"Mareth, he is only a boy.” Percy Myriel, head librarian of Dawn Castle, sat across from Mareth. They were in the study where Cavaar had stolen the key. Moonlight tumbled through the window and fell on Myriel's clasped hands.

The Prelate's eyes drilled a hole in the wall. “He is a Blade of Dawn in training, and he has to learn.” He looked at the librarian. “And you would do better to keep the key under guard. You grow careless as the days pass.”

Percy frowned. “What are you trying to say? That I am too old?”

Mareth's eyebrow twitched.

Percy huffed. “I am just one fullday older than you. The only difference is that I do not have the Black, which, might I remind you, drove our instructors mad in the end. I am not the one we should be concerned about.” He waited for a reply but the Prelate just went back to drilling a hole in the wall. Myriel sighed. “But this is not the problem at hand. The boy was only curious.”

“Curiosity can be dangerous Percy, those secrets in the hands of the wrong person could be the end of everything. He is not ready.” Mareth's voice didn't fluctuate. He still refused to make eye contact.

“Those secrets are powerful Mareth, I know that. Don't think I forget what happened with Amala, but Cavaar is different. He did what he did out of hunger for the truth.” He waited for Mareth to respond. “Give me three moons to discipline him my way, if you are not satisfied then you can deal with him as you see fit. Don't you remember what you said to me when we first brought him to the castle?”

The Prelate looked at him. “As you wish.”