There wasn’t much of the normal sense of fun evident in his manner as he leafed through loose sheets of heavily annotated parchment. “Sorry to keep you waiting Gaspi,” he said, flicking him a momentary glance. “Pour yourself some tea and I’ll be right with you.” Gaspi picked up the ornate silver teapot sitting on the desk between them and poured a steaming cup of the amber liquid into a cup. From its fragrance, he knew it was Hephistole’s “thinking tea,” a drink that helped focus the mind, which certainly helped explain the chancellor’s mood. He took a large sip of the tea, which was still much too hot to drink. Making an open circle with his mouth, he frantically sucked in mouthfuls of air, rolling the scalding liquid around his tongue until it had cooled down. Hephistole looked up from his papers, watching him with an amused expression. “Bit hot is it?” he asked innocently.
