Sage blinked at the question, then smiled. Of course the boy was curious. Had he thought that he wouldn't be curious?
"It was a series of stupid accidents on my part," he said, with a slight chuckle. "I decided that I wanted to wander the world and make my fortune, I made a few errors, ran out of money, ran out of food... and, well, things went from there."
He abruptly walked back to the kitchen. Even if Syaoran didn't follow him, it was a small house, and things said in one room could be easily heard in another. Sage liked small houses. Taking his bottles of spice from the top shelf, he began to sort through them, checking what he was running low on and what he had too much of. The bottle of dried garlic was still almost full; the coriander seeds were running low; the minced fireweed was almost empty, he noticed. He would have to return to Serendipity or Adela and see whether any merchants had some more in stock - which would be horrendously expensive - or, perhaps, he would go to the desert to buy some cheaper. He would have to ask Syaoran.
So he had a travelling companion. That would do something to ease the loneliness, at least. Sage made a mental vow not to let Syaoran grow too comfortable with him, while still being kind; as soon as they were in the big city, the boy would probably find somebody else to live with, and Sage could go on his way alone. That would be the kindest thing. He was bad luck - no pretty young thing deserved to have to live with him.
"So," he said, picking up the dropped conversational thread from earlier. "That's my story." It wasn't, not entirely, but it was close enough; all the basic details were more-or-less right. "I'd like to hear yours... only if you're comfortable telling it, though. How did you end up on sale like some piece of cheap meat?"
He handed Syaoran a pinch of fireweed to chew while he was deciding whether to tell or not. "Here, eat this, it warms the stomach. Don't let it sit too long on your tongue, though. It's spicy stuff."
