‘Why should I please you? You weren’t glad to see me a bit,’ said Raphael bitterly.
‘Oh, Raff,’ wailed Cassandra, flinging her arms round Raphael’s neck. ‘I’m so sorry. I was glad to see you. But—but I feel as if I had just waked up.’
Ten minutes later they went down to the dining-room. Two places were set, one on either side of the table.
‘Children,’ said Mechanus, ‘you are ten minutes late.’
The children said nothing, but sat down.
‘I’ve had this porridge cooked especially for you,’ said the Sorcerer proudly. ‘We mechanicos use only one type of fuel.’
The Sorcerer sat down between them.
While Raphael and Cassandra ate their supper out of silver porridge bowls, the Sorcerer was brought a large golden tankard. Throwing back his head he poured at least a gallon of brown fluid down his throat.
‘What is that?’ asked Raphael, forgetting his anger in his curiosity.
‘That, my boy,’ said the Sorcerer, ‘is mineral oil. It is all we mechanicos need in the way of food and quite easy to take.’