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Updated: September 15, 2025
"You have not had time," Loristan answered. Afterward he made him lie down on the sofa. "Look at my clothes," said The Rat. "Lie down and sleep," Loristan replied, putting his hand on his shoulder and gently forcing him toward the sofa. "You will sleep a long time. You must tell me how to find the place where your father died, and I will see that the proper authorities are notified."
There was something about him which made him seem even splendid. The Rat's heart thumped with startled joy. "Father," said Marco, "will you watch The Rat drill us? I want you to see how well it is done." "Captain, will you do me that honor?" Loristan said to The Rat, and to even these words he gave the right tone, neither jesting nor too serious.
If it's cold weather, it's bad enough but if it's fine weather, it's better than sleeping in the kind of place I'm used to. Comrade," to Marco, "are you ready?" He said "Comrade" as Loristan did, and somehow Marco did not resent it, because he was ready to labor for Samavia. It was only a game, but it made them comrades and was it really only a game, after all?
Marco cried out. Loristan paused for a moment watching him gravely looking him over his big, well-built boy's frame, his shabby clothes, and his eagerly burning eyes. He smiled one of his slow wonderful smiles. "Yes. It might even matter to Samavia!" he answered. Loristan did not forbid Marco to pursue his acquaintance with The Rat and his followers.
Did you go to Budapest from Vienna, and were you there for three months?" asked the inquisitor. "I know nothing," said Marco. "You are too good for the little black cellar," put in the Lovely Person. "I like you. Don't go into it!" "I know nothing," Marco answered, but the eyes which were like Loristan's gave her just such a look as Loristan would have given her, and she felt it.
"Can you write these things?" he asked, after each had repeated them and emerged safely from all cross-questioning. Each boy wrote them correctly from memory. "Write yours in French in German in Russian in Samavian," Loristan said to Marco. "All you have told me to do and to learn is part of myself, Father," Marco said in the end. "It is part of me, as if it were my hand or my eyes or my heart."
Loristan touched his arm gently. "You are a good comrade," he said. "It is well for us that you are here. You have thought of a good thing." "May I go now?" said The Rat. "This moment, if you are ready," was the answer. The Rat swung himself to the door. Loristan said to him a thing which was like the sudden lighting of a great light in the very center of his being. "You are one of us.
The Rat knew that his own father had once lived like this. He himself would have been at ease if chance had treated him fairly. It made him scowl to think of it. But in a few minutes Loristan began to talk about the copy of the map of Samavia. Then The Rat forgot everything else and was ill at ease no more.
"What are you doing it for?" The Rat asked, and then he added, "sir." "Because I am a man and you are a boy. And this is a terrible thing," Loristan answered him. He went away without saying more, and The Rat lay on the sofa staring at the wall and thinking about it until he fell asleep. But, before this happened, Marco had quietly left him alone.
"Ivor Fedorovitch. King Ivor he ought to be. And the people would obey him, and the good days would come again." "It is five hundred years since Ivor Fedorovitch left the good monks." Loristan still spoke softly. "But, Father," Marco protested, "even The Rat said what you said that he was too young to be able to come back while the Maranovitch were in power.
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