'Well, er,' he said. 'Me. I suppose. Just for the moment.' 'That's right,' said Torrit, relieved. 'Just for the moment I'm puttin' him in charge, see. Because I'm the leader.' The Abbot nodded.
'A very wise decision,' he said. Torrit beamed.
'Stay here with the talking box,' said the Abbot to Masklin. 'The rest of you, please go. There will be food brought to you. Please go and wait.' 'Urn,' said Masklin, 'no.' There was a pause.
Then the Abbot said, quite softly, 'Why not?' 'Because, you see, urn, we're all together,' said Masklin. 'We've never been split up.' 'A very commendable sentiment. You'll find, however, that life doesn't work like that. Come, now. I can hardly harm you, can I?' 'You talk to him, Masklin,' said Grimma. We won't be far away. It's not important.' He nodded reluctantly.
When they had left, the Abbot turned around. Close to, he was even older than he had looked before. His face wasn't just wrinlded, it was one big wrinlde. He was middle-aged when old Torrit was born, Masklin told himself. He's old enough to be Granny Morkie's grandfather! The Abbot smiled. It was a difficult smile. It was as if he'd had smiling explained to him but had never had chance to practice.
'Your name, I believe, is Masklin,' he said.
Masklin couldn't deny it.
'I don't understand!' he said. 'You can see me! Ten minutes ago you said I didn't even exist and now you're talking to me!' 'There is nothing strange about it,' said the Abbot. 'Ten minutes ago it was official. Goodness me, I can't go around letting people believe that I've been wrong all along, can I? The Abbots have been denying there is anything Outside for generations. I can't suddenly say they were all wrong. People would think I've gone mad.' Would they?' said Masklin.