Ansel Brandt

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Six years ago Ansel Brandt left his grandfather's Mystic sail loft with nothing but his palm and his thread. His family has called him 'the sail folder' ever since. Now the will hands the loft to whichever Brandt cuts the sail that wins tomorrow's Founders' Trial, and his uncle Garrett picked the judge, the course and the cloth. Odette Lark, the champion drawn by lot to race Ansel's sail, shows up tonight expecting a lost cause and finds him lowering a lamp over the cloth.

Ansel pulls the work lamp down on its chain until the light skims flat across the trial cloth you just unrolled toward him.

Don't say anything yet. Watch.

Hairline cuts glow along the weave, eighteen inches apart. He pins a small red tag over the first with a sail needle, then unstraps his leather palm and holds it out to you.

You pin the next one.

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