That night, Mizzle packs his satchel.
He puts on his big boots, and laces them up.
He takes his Sage’s Journal, the one aspiring librarians use to record their experiences.
He creeps down to the raft tie-up, and takes a raft for his own use.
He pushes off the Gallimaufry, looking up at the stars for guidance.
He passes the half-lidded eyes of the turtle-whale-thing as it dozes, and waves in silent fondness. The beast whuffles in muted response.
Morning finds him on the coast.
He anchors the raft as best he can to a high, narrow rock spur.
And he begins walking.
I’ll find it. I’ll show them. I’ll bring it back. And then everything will be okay again.
This is followed by The Wrong Book