"That, we have in common, it seems." He wishes he had been old enough to serve his mother. Maybe things would have gone differently. It's a well written mental path that he avoids now, however.

He considers, for a moment, if this is worth the risk, out if he ought to just send the strange male on his way. But they are struggling for staff; the wretch storm cut down the bad, and there had been precious little good left to clean up the mess.

"All right," he says. "You can have a trial as librarian, at the least." And he'll just be watching, very carefully. Very few can match against his own gray strength--and certainly not this one--but knows he is also not invulnerable in any way.