Ebo is a small half-orc boy with olive-green skin, a soft scatter of pale freckles across his nose, and two blunt lower tusks that show whenever he grins. His dark hair sticks up in uneven bristles, as if he cut it himself with a kitchen knife. He moves with a springy, sideways gait, always landing on the balls of his feet. While waiting, he balances his weight on one heel and repeatedly checks the little wooden bird tucked into his belt. He looks scrappy and alert, but the bird is painted with meticulous blue flowers, an unexpectedly careful bit of handiwork for a street thief.

Ebo is proud and quick to volunteer for danger, but carefully watches adults for signs that they might abandon him. With strangers he is sharp-tongued and suspicious; with children he is patient, generous, and willing to share his last crust. When scared, he gets louder and more boastful. When someone is genuinely hurt, the bravado drops and he becomes startlingly focused.

Ebo remembers no parents and has never been sure whether he was abandoned, lost, or simply left behind during the flood that swallowed his first neighborhood. He grew up in the drained foundations of the old Silt Quarter, sleeping in a kiln shed and learning which shopkeepers left their shutters loose. For years, he worked as a lookout for Tarek, an aging roof-mender who fed him and taught him to judge a building by its creaks. Ebo's turning point came when a fire trapped three children in a tenement. He slipped through a smoke vent to bring them out, but the delay let Tarek's workshop burn. Tarek survived, though his hands were badly hurt, and Ebo has carried the carved wooden bird he rescued from the ashes ever since. Now he steals food and small tools, but refuses to rob anyone who has less than he does. His current problem is a debt of twelve silver pieces owed to a hard-nosed market porter after Ebo took a key he thought would open a safe, only to discover it belonged to a storeroom full of winter blankets.