The repast concluded, the company disperses in ones and twos and you find yourself back in the courtyard. The night is warm and starstrewn, with a pleasant tang in the coastal air. How far you've come in how short a span….
You linger by the fountain, lost in reverie, and scarcely notice the jingling sound in the air until it is nearly at your back.
"Youngster," says Timshel, deepening his voice and inclining his head in greeting. He looks about as serious as a man festooned with bells can be. You match his feigned solemnity in your formal bow.
"An eventful first day, I daresay." He looks down his swordfish nose at you.