Zestlian Korvo was ten years old when the bandits hit the caravan. Nobody was killed, it was simply another transaction. The bandits displayed their numbers and weapons and were paid in gold and goods. One of them even grinned at the wide-eyed little boy.
By the time Zestlian is twelve his family has completed a two year climb out of debt and poverty and the caravan is and life goes on like nothing ever happened. Except for little "Ian". He sees a threat in every stranger and starts to get into fights with local youths at nearly every place the caravan stops.
It becomes clear that Zestlian is not going to develop a knack for salesmanship. Moreover Ian's lingering anger and fear are causing friction with the locals. Varisians often occupy a precarious position at the margins of the places they visit, they cannot have him creating more problems.
Fortunately in the insular community of the caravan the elders have become adept at finding practical solutions for all manner of problems. Zestlian was put under the wing of a grizzled old drover. He came to him during a long trek between settlements. Zestlian was perched atop a wagon, scanning the horizon.
"I can tell you're worried about what might be out there boy. How 'bout you and me go take a look?"
The boy and the drover rode out and carefully scouted around the hilly terrain on either side of the road ahead. There were no bandits or orcs. Ian could not recall feeling so good.
From there on Zestlian was the caravan's most ardent scout. There were no more fights in town. The hills were not always deserted but Zestlian never found anything that could not be ambushed, bypassed, hidden from, or negotiated with.
Freed from fear he began to understand what the caravan elders had been trying to tell him about Desna since he was a little boy. Travel is worship, freedom is a gift from the gods. Zestlian sees his wandering lifestyle as a kind of paen to Desna, an act of continual praise.
