[This is the sound of a boy, maybe nine or ten years old, calling out.]

Professor? Professor?

...I do not know where I am... None of my gentlemen-in-waiting are nearby.

[Have a snort from his horse. Yes, he talks to his horse.]

Aunt Prunaprismia?

[Quietly.]...Uncle Miraz? I didn't mean to wander off, honestly. Please let me come home. I will ( Read more... )