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appeared to be an amalgamation of an “H” and a “Y”.
    ‘Show this to the right people,’ Hirandar placed the blue stone in Taem’s hand, ‘and they will know you are a friend of mine.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Taem said.
    Hirandar patted Taem’s shoulder, ‘You will see many strange things when we travel in the world outside.’ Hirandar was full of enthusiasm, as she thought of the exciting sights that still roused her imagination, even after two centuries of living. ‘But be careful who you trust! Make sure you know who you are talking to before you tell them anything about yourself – especially that you’re friends with me! It saddens me that one has to be so enigmatic, but it is a dangerous world out there. I long for a time when there is no need for such secrecy.’ The Wizard sighed. ‘But still, we must strive to make the world a better place.’ Hirandar nodded at Taem, and smiled. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have much research and preparation to do before tomorrow.’
    Taem returned to the sitting room where he found Sera still engrossed in her knitting, and Logan reading a book entitled The Wars Of Men , by Bran Snowley – an Aritian scribe who was wounded by a stray arrow as he documented the seventh Darnean war. Whilst recovering from his injury, Bran Snowley became convinced he had survived the war for a reason, to record an account of every battle that had ever taken place in Hathlore. Although most historians accepted Scribe Snowley was an eccentric, they all acknowledged his work was the most valuable military treatise ever written.
    Elena was beating Macen and Edar in a game of darts, so Taem challenged Logan to a game of Royal Chequers, before heading off for bed.
    ‘Good night,’ Taem said to them all, as he left the sitting room. On peeping back into the library to see Hirandar, Taem found the Wizard studying a crumpled piece of old paper.
    ‘Good night, teacher,’ Taem said from the doorway.
    Hirandar leapt from her seat. The Wizard clumsily tipped a glass tripod holding a dense green gas across her desk, and knocked a cup of water over some archaic scrolls, as she stuffed the yellowed piece of paper into a pocket in her cloak.
    ‘Sorry, Hirandar,’ Taem rushed to stand up the tripod, and stop the green vapour water-falling off the side of the desk. ‘I did not mean to startle you.’
    ‘What?’ Hirandar placed a hand over the paper concealed within her cloak. ‘It’s nothing, my boy. Just an old piece of note paper.’
    ‘I don’t know why you’re bothered about note paper,’ Taem tried to mop the spilt water off the scrolls, ‘but these documents look valuable – and they’re soaked!’
    ‘Oh,’ Hirandar casually removed her hand from her cloak’s hidden pocket, ‘probably for the best…’
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘I said,’ Hirandar cleared her throat, ‘I’ll tidy up the rest. Thank you for your quick reactions, Taem – it looks like you managed to save most of the grow vapour – now you should get yourself up to bed.’
    ‘But these are ruined!’ Taem held up some dripping parchment. He had never seen the old Wizard be so calm about the destruction of any writings. Damaging a book was usually enough for Hirandar to blow her top – let alone flooding away all the ink on some ancient scrolls!
    ‘Unfortunate, yes,’ Hirandar lifted up some of the dripping scrolls, ‘but no real harm done.’ The Wizard held the papers above the now empty cup and drew her hand down the scrolls. By the use of magic, all the water drained from the parchment and dripped down into the cup beneath. ‘There we are, I’ve saved what I can.’
    ‘Hirandar, are you alright?’ Taem looked at the Wizard in amazement. You are being very relaxed about–’
    ‘I’m fine, Taem. It’s just I’m… probably as eager about tomorrow as you are.’
    ‘Why, teacher? You have been travelling a thousand times, why is this any different?’
    Hirandar smiled as she struggled for something