I was... well, perhaps I wasn’t really anyone. A street tramp, one of the hoodlums of the Rotten House. By the standards of decent citizens—just the same rat, and for officials, merchants, and especially for those who know secrets—I’m simply nothing.
And what does it matter! I would have made it into people! I had the makings, and enough ambition—and most of all, there was someone nearby for whom I wanted to move mountains. Only some—someone—decided that “Gray” had already been sufficing, that Gray should live and be quiet.
In vain! I managed to wriggle away from a walk to the other side, and even survived in spite of everything, fanning within myself the white flame of my sorcerous talent. Even if the words of an old witch sometimes return: “Taking what isn’t yours—expect trouble”… we’ll see what is “someone else’s” and what is “mine!”