gray neck was a single golden medallion on a gold chain.
Several letters had been engraved on it, but they were too
small for Jon-Tom to make out.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Are you the master of this orphanage?” Jon-Tom
asked.
“Me?” She did not smile. “No. What do you wish with
the Headmaster?” She was watching Roseroar carefully.
“Just a couple of quick questions.” He put on his most
ingratiating grin.
“Office hours are from mid-morning to nightfall.” She
moved to shut the door.
Jon-Tom took a step forward, still wearing his grin.
“We have reason to believe that an acquaintance of ours
was recently—” he searched for the right word, “enrolled
at the orphanage.”
“You mean you don’t know for certain?”
“No. It would have been within the last day.”
“I see. Visiting hours are at nightfall only.” Again the
attempt to close the door, again Jon-Tom rushed to fore-
stall her.
“Please, ma’am. We have to depart on a long difficult
journey tomorrow. I just want a moment to assure myself
that your institution is as admirable on the inside as it is
from without.”
“Well,” she murmured uncertainly, “wait here. The
Headmaster is at his late-eve devotions. I will ask if he can
see you.”
“Thanks.”
The wait that ensued was long, and after a while he was
afraid they’d been given a polite brushoff. He was about to
use the bell-pull a second time when she reappeared
trailing an elderly man.
As always, Jon-Tom was surprised to see another human
in a position of authority, since they didn’t seem to be
among the more prolific groups here. In Clothahump’s