He closed his eyes. He would have stopped his ears, but he had to cling to the edge of the hole. And so he simply tried not to hear anything—not his teacher’s voice, nor the whistling of the fiery lashes, nor the menacing sound made by the Executioner, which sounded like a tiger growling. (Erasmus had never seen any tigers, but he assumed that they must growl exactly like that.)

Get away from everything.

From the past.

From the present.

From the future.

The past is not important. The present is inconsequential. The future is indeterminate.

He was not just some common clairvoyant, he was a Prophet. He was the voice of fate. What he uttered would become the truth.

Only someone had to hear him. They absolutely had to.

Then why not this old oak?

The boy imagined his shadow, lying on the bottom of the hollow. And he lowered his head towards it.

Erasmus opened his eyes. His teacher was sitting beside him, cradling his limp left arm. The arm looked crumpled, almost chewed.

“The Executioner . . .” Erasmus whispered.

“You managed it, boy,” the teacher said with bewilderment in his voice. “I can’t imagine how, but you spoke your prophecy into empty space. And the Executioner has gone. In another moment he would have killed me.”

“I didn’t speak into empty space,” Erasmus replied. “I . . . I told the oak tree.”

A faint smile appeared on his teacher’s face.

“Ah, so that’s it . . . Well then, there is probably some purpose to your love of trees. Probably it is a part of your gift. A prevision of the fact that you would only escape if you loved oaks and aspen trees.”

He started chuckling and laughed for a long time, until he cried. Then he got up and shook the dust and mud off his clothes. Dark patches remained on them, but that did not worry the teacher.

“It is time for us to say goodbye, young Erasmus. You know your own abilities, you will be able to stand up for yourself. If you wish for power—you will achieve it. On your own, or in the Day Watch.”

“In Dublin?”

“In Dublin, Edinburgh, London. In any city of the world that is now or shall be.”

He even slapped Erasmus on the shoulder before turning and walking off along the road into the distance. He probably was truly fond of this pupil. But, of course, he didn’t look round.

Erasmus sat there in the dust for a while, thinking. His strange enemy had disappeared. It was getting light.

Life promised a multitude of interesting things, and Erasmus had always had a zest for life.

He decided to go back to the manor house and see what had happened to Betty. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if she had become indifferent to everything. Perhaps now she would allow him to do certain things that she had previously rejected with a giggle.