Chapter 1
Isaac Sperone had a most remarkable pair of boots.
At first glance—and second and third glances as well—they were nothing more than a pair of boots. Cracked and worn, the boots resembled something one would expect to find in a rubbish heap rather than on a smart young man’s feet. Indeed, Isaac himself had been disappointed by the boots at first, and had seen them as small pay for risking his life.
It was only when he had put them on that Isaac had understood just how remarkable the boots were. For when the soft leather was snug around his feet, words that were not his had floated up from his toes.
Where to?
Isaac had jerked around in search of the speaker. The alleyway was empty but for him, even after he had peered behind every pile of trash and every stack of unused crates and boxes.
What do you seek? Asked the disembodied voice.
Isaac had always been a sensible, careful boy with a sturdy knowledge of what was possible and what was not, but now his frantic attempts to rationalize were dissolving.
Just tell us what you seek, the voice continued, sounding slightly bored, and we’ll take you to it.
Isaac was forced to accept that either it was the boots talking or that he had gone mad at last.
“Money,” the young man said cautiously. It was the first thing that had come to his mind; although his clothes were fine and he was usually clean Isaac had been living off the profits from stolen odds and ends. Lately life had become harder for a thief in the city, what with the introduction of new locks and traps.
There was a pause.
I guess it couldn’t hurt, said his left foot.
Then let’s go, his right replied.
Instantly, Isaac’s feet had pulled forward, and he had found himself walking swiftly through the city towards a rich man’s forgotten stash of gold.
Five years later, Isaac knew everything about the boots—or at least he thought he did. All he had to do was send a polite request to his feet and the boots would take him to what he wanted to find. But he had to be sure to be specific about what he wanted before he asked them to take him there. Once he had told the boots he wanted a woman, and they had swept him away down the road, right into and old woman who was tottering up the street under the weight of several large vegetables. There, the boots had stopped promptly. Isaac had sent the vegetables flying, saved the frail lady from falling, and then had gathered her groceries up again with profuse apologies. The boots never laughed outright, but Isaacs’s feet had tingled unpleasantly for several hours after the incident.
So now Isaac waited until the evening came to think over his next question. When he was home, he slipped the boots from his feet with tender care, then went to bed to ponder in the privacy of his own mind. He now had plenty of money, a nice home, a discreet reputation as a savvy young man, and he owned several priceless treasures.
It came to him as he pulled the cold sheets tighter around him. It was a delicious idea, so precious that he would wait a while before asking it. He would have to make sure his question asked exactly what he wanted it to. After so long with the boots, he knew that their life was dull enough that they searched for alternate meanings in the simplest of questions, just to make their existence a little more interesting.
