‘Because you have handled it well before, when I’ve previously done it to you. Ever since I went hunting for a boy out in the gardens and told him, “Fitz fixes a feist’s fits. Fat suffices”.’ I goggled at him. ‘But you’d told me you’d had a dream, and so come to tell me it.’ He smiled enigmatically. ‘I did have a dream. And I wrote it down. When I was eight years old. And when the time felt right, I told it to you. And you knew what to do with it, to be my Catalyst, even then. As I trust you will now.’
