"The meeting hall is not our destination," Belloc told him. "You and I, my young apprentice, have some private business to resolve, together."
Anest turned an apprehensive look upon his mentor, but could see only the lower part of the old wizard's face, his short, stiff, white beard. "Have I done something to anger you, Master?"
He hadn't called the man dearer to him than father by that title for long years. Something in Belloc's mien softened, and he said in his more familiar, kindlier tone, "I misspoke myself, lad. You and I have a matter of importance to attend to, that concerns only the two of us. Forgive this old fool, but my attention is elsewhere at the moment. To speak plainly, I need to think. In the meantime, I suggest you prepare yourself for what is to come."
"But I do not know what is to come," Anest said, pointedly.
As they began descending a long staircase, he caught a faint smile on the wizard's lips. "You will, soon enough. For you see, it is time. Time to see, my young apprentice. Time to finish. Time to begin anew."
"Riddles!" muttered Anest. "It's too early in the day for riddles."
The old wizard led him outside to a courtyard where their horses awaited them. Seeing him, Thunder nodded his head and whickered quietly, in anticipation of . . .