“Joef says Three Spires is haunted by the shade of a wicked sorcerer-king who wielded a hideous power that leached the life right out of anything the sorcerer touched,” he said, sounding gleeful.

She chuckled. “Joef has a most amazing storehouse of tales and rumors.”

“His aunt is the intendant’s archivist.”

“And the local gossip, with a finger in every bowl of porridge. Nourishing, but to be taken with a grain of salt. It’s safe to shelter in the Spires overnight as long as we follow the rules. What are the rules?”

He reeled it off by rote, barely listening to himself. “‘Don’t get distracted or sloppy. No shortcuts. Stick to the routine. Stay calm.’ Isn’t that all just the same thing?”

“Is it?”

He sighed dramatically. He was brimful of sighs these days, the closer he got to the decision he’d have to make. “Declaration Week starts tomorrow! How do I decide? I can’t be a midwife like Mama, even though I know she wanted that for me. And I’m glad you had me come along on a full circuit. But I don’t want to be a courier. I’m sorry.”

“My blessed child, my hope for you is that you can be safe, not that you do what you think I want you to do. You like to work with your hands. You could apprentice to an artisan, like … I don’t know … old Seladwin would be a good person to learn from and work with. You’d never lack for customers. She needs someone to take over her shop since she has no heirs.”

“I’m not going to apprentice to the cobbler! I don’t want to make shoes all my life.”

“Well-made boots are a gift of human ingenuity and skill. Never forget it.”

He glanced at his boots, the first footgear he had ever possessed that hadn’t been handed down to him. A pair of new boots was a traditional gift for a youth as they Declared for a profession and thus the path and status they would follow throughout their life. “You told me so, didn’t you? That I should wear my old boots and break these in afterward. I really do have a blister.”

“Blisters hurt a lot, as I know all too well. We’re almost there. There’s a spring in the courtyard between the three towers. You can wash your feet and put on dry socks. That’ll help.”

“You know what I like about you?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“You never say ‘I told you so.’ Not like Mama always did.”

“Your mama had her own monsters to fight. And she did gloat a bit, didn’t she, when she was right? It’s funny how I miss that about her.”

He fiddled with the ribbon.