He followed the directions, which came with helpful drawings of trees, almost mechanically. He was worried enough that he almost did not realize when he arrived. In the midst of moors and woodland was a tower, in the same brief, round style as the towers at the Border camp, looking like nothing so much as the rooks in the chess set his father had gathering dust in a cabinet. There was ivy climbing up it in cascading green profusion over places where the stone was jagged and worn. Elliot stuffed Luke’s map into his pocket and climbed the broad, flat steps.
