"There's enough food there for one man to live on for half a century. If ever something happens to me, Lloyd, take the boy there. Go there and learn as much as you can, and then teach the Bestenese people, and try to teach mine. If nothing happens to me, I will send both of you there, anyway, and you will learn." Brook ended his instructions and Lloyd promised him, that when fit to travel, he would leave with Boy and not return until Boy willed it. The day seemed short to those in the Blue Mansion. After the Lord, his Lady and their honoured guest had supped, they all retired to a parlour-like room. That room was Dearborne's equivalent to Brook's viewing-den. She reclined in a large comfortable chair, soft and padded in cushioned splendour while she rolled some yarn into a large ball, and hummed to herself a mellow little tune. Brook stood in the corner of the room by a small cabinet. He poured wine into some glasses and motioned to hand the glasses to Dearborne and Lloyd, who sat on a sofa near her at the window. Lloyd looked out the window at the setting sun. He watched and listened to the people coming out of their homes and heading for their evening fun-spots. They had weathered the fretting indulgences brought to them by the rain and they now behaved no differently than they had for months before the rain. Brook, with a silent tip of his head to the beloved wife, handed her a glass of her once-favoured wine. She graciously accepted it from him and stared at the glass. Her face exposed an expression of anxiety and fear, afraid to drink, as if the glass of that delicate beverage had been laced with some kind of poison. He gave to Lloyd a glass also, breaking his concentrations of watching the columns of people below, as they headed for the centre of Pomperaque, to their taverns and theatres. The Lord lifted his glass and saluted those close to him, within the room, with a toast to freedom and unity. They echoed him. Lloyd kept his stare on the street, and Brook was curious as to what interested his guest so much. He looked at Lloyd several times, and every time he just stared out into the street. He seemed somewhat intoxicated, although he only sipped once, at his wine. Brook understood that Lloyd was only longing for his home in Besten. He knew that the thoughts of his homeland and his near death, in Pomperaque, had chilled his mind and made him dopey. Lord Brook emptied his glass of wine and sighed, the sound of it resonated throughout the room. He spoke, imitating a burly Bestenese accent that grabbed the attention of both his lovely wife and Lloyd.