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I'm imagining because I'm upset. Master Uulamets taught me all he could in the little time he had, but thank the god, Eveshka had more than that, and maybe I ought to listen to her. I understand how to do things, but I don't always know whether I ought to do them, or why. She does. I need her to tell me where I'm wrong, I need her to keep me from her father's mistakes, most of all, because master Uulamets did make them, he made terrible mistakes ... and I don't want to be him. Father Sky witness I don't want to turn into him ...
    He had taken to the rebuilding of the house with more enthusiasm than Pyetr could possibly understand, clearing out Uulamets' cobwebby past, changing the very outlines of the house Uulamets would recall, pushing master Uulamets and his wishes and his memories further and further into the past. The old man, dying, had wanted a boy wizard to know all he knew; and have all he had, and a boy who desperately needed that knowledge-fought back as much as he could, knowing his master's mistakes as well as his virtues.
    Old memories still attached to this place ... chaotic, fragmentary recollections, the river when the ferry had been running, travelers on the road; the forest before the great trees had died: mere curiosities, those—
    Excepting memories of a woman in this house, one on whom Uulamets had sired a daughter he did not, could not trust.
    Excepting his student, Chernevog—also in this house, who had wanted that gift he had gotten, and tried to steal it.
    I wish for bodily comfort, Chernevog had written in his own hook: I wish for gold—why not?
    Old Uulamets sitting in his shabby little house, old Uulamets teaching foolishness, mistaking cowardice for virtue —
    Uulamets talks about restraint—restraint in a world of cattle, who know nothing, have no power over their own wishes, understand nothing that they want—while we live apart, all for fear of damaging these peasants. Foolishness.
    That was Kavi Chernevog, whose reasoning twisted back on itself like a snake—whose reasoning was founded on assumptions totally selfish and shortsighted.
    Sasha dipped his quill and wrote, mindfully pushing Chernevog out of his thoughts: The things master Uulamets wanted me to know, like writing, I have to use, and I don't forget. But what I didn 't use right off just faded, and the things that just come up less and less, I forget. And don't entirely forget, of course, because there's his book to remind me, but there are things that used to be very strong; and now they're just less and less likely to occur to me—I think as much as anything because it's not the house he knew anymore and we're not the way he expected us to turn out.
    Mostly he'd be surprised, I'm sure he would be. He'd be mad about Eveshka marrying Pyetr, I have no trouble thinking what h e 'd say about that.
    Maybe that's why I keep worrying about them. Myself, Sasha Misurov, I certainly don't want to have bad thoughts about my best friends in the whole world. I think I have to watch that, and stop being upset with Eveshka, because Uulamets really didn't like people much—not since he married his wife, anyway, and after he found out she was after his book: Draga made him distrust people and then Chernevog came along —
    Chernevog was his really big mistake.
    But what might mine be? Letting myself remember too much? Letting what happened to him make me suspicious?
    And selfish. What about the horse? What about me wanting Pyetr to myself again? I'm feeling lonely, and I've got to stop that. There's no good in it. There's not even any sense in it. Uncle's house was awful and nobody ever liked me till Pyetr did. So what do I want to change? Eveshka's mad at me, and she's right: nothing's good that upsets us this much, nothing's, good when a wizard starts wanting love from people, it's not fair to them.
    I knew that once, when I lived in Vojvoda, I was so good about not wishing things, till I came here and master Uulamets took me up.
    But he