‘While there has been peace for some time between the Azathanai and the Tiste, no doubt other visitors among the Azathanai might value such maps, for all the wrong reasons. Sir, I believe Lord Draconus will forbid the gift of maps.’

‘An exchange between scholars in the interests of knowledge has no relevant bearing on mundane political matters – whence comes this arrogance of yours?’

‘I apologize, sir. Perhaps I could return to our lord and ask him?’

‘Ask him what? Don’t be a fool. Furthermore, do not presume a sudden rise in your status simply because you spent a few moments with our lord. In any case, I had already concluded that I would not bring the maps – too bulky; besides, these copies are the ones done by your hand, last year, and the rendition is suspect at best, deplorable in some instances. In fact, given that, they make most dubious gifts, rife with errors as they no doubt are. You wish to assist me, student? Very well, give some thought to suitable gifts.’

‘To one recipient or many, sir?’

Sagander considered the question, and then nodded. ‘Four of respectable value and one of great worth.’

‘Would the one of great worth be intended for the Lord of Hate, sir?’

‘Of course it would! Now, be off with you, but be back before the evening meal’s bell.’

As Arathan was leaving, Sagander turned. ‘A moment. I have decided to reduce the number of trunks to two, with one only half filled. Bear that in mind with regard to these gifts.’

‘I shall, sir.’

The door creaked when Arathan shut it behind him.

Irritated by the sound, Sagander fixed his attention once more on the gear on the worktable. He pushed the maps off the edge as they were cluttering his vision.

He did not think much of the boy’s chances in finding a suitable gift for the Lord of Hate, but it would keep Arathan out from underfoot. Sagander had observed a new bad habit emerging from the boy, though the scholar was having difficulty defining it with any precision. It was in the way Arathan spoke, in the questions he asked and that mask of innocence on his face when he asked them. Not just innocence, but earnestness. Something about the whole thing was suspect, as if none of it was quite real.

There had to be a reason for Sagander to feel agitated following almost every conversation he’d had of late with Arathan.

No matter, this journey would put the boy back in his place – wide-eyed and frightened. The world beyond the house and its grounds was vast, overwhelming. Since the incident at the old quarry, Arathan had been forbidden from venturing into the countryside, and even his brief excursions down into the village had been supervised.

Arathan was in for a shock, and that would do him good.

* * *