-- Not bad... -- Miles gave Clay the letter. -- I'd like to get a letter like that from my parents, too. -- He suddenly noticed that Clay was thinking about something. -- Now what are you gonna do?

-- I don't know. -- then there was even a long silence. -- Or I do. -- said Clay suddenly.

-- So what are you gonna do?

-- Find my mother.

-- What? How? Of course, I'm not knocking the idea out of your head, but... -- Miles got out of bed. -- You don't even know who you're looking for.

-- No. But that doesn't mean I won't find her.

-- Please, Clay, don't get carried away. You probably won't be able to find her anyway.

-- How do you know?

-- I know life. You don't even know her name.

-- But I know her surname.

-- What if she changed it?

-- In the archives at the library, there are birth certificates for everyone in Knighton. Even if she changed her surname, it would still be her real name on her birth certificate.

-- And you know that you're facing... about three hundred generations of your family? That's a lot.

-- I'll look at the date of birth. And for the rest... -- The boy got up from his chair, picked up a leather bag and started packing clothes into it.

-- Wait... what are you doing? -- asked Miles puzzled.

-- Packing.

-- I see... but why?

-- If I was seriously threatened by something if you stayed with your mother, then I need to find out what. And she knows it. That's why I'm gonna find her. Even if she lives at the other end of the kingdom.

He finished packing things into his bag and put it over his shoulder.

-- But one more thing... how will you escape from the orphanage? After all, they won't let you leave here.

-- There is one person who will. -- saying this the brunet smiled.

Ten minutes later Clay was already standing in front of the library. Milene understood him well, so she let him look for his mother.

-- Well... -- said to himself. -- Starting the search. -- He walked into the library, and at the front desk sat a gray-haired old man, somewhere in his 80s.

-- Good morning. -- said the brunet and then the old man stopped reading the paper and asked:

-- What is it?

-- Because... my name is Clay Moorington and I wanted to get into the archives. May I?

-- Moorington, right? Ha! I knew your grandfather. Very nice man.

-- Can I go into the archives? -- asked Clay again.

-- And remind me what your name is? I have a bad memory.

-- Clay.

Then the old man started writing something down in a little green notebook.

-- Clay Moorington -- said the old man, writing in the notebook. -- Well. Go into the archives. But don't destroy anything in there. All right?

-- Of course. -- Clay smiled and went into the archives.

When he opened the door, he saw thousands of bookcases.

-- That's quite an archive. -- he said to himself and went inside.

He began to walk between the bookcases and search.

-- Moorington. Where are you? -- suddenly saw the letter on the bookcase "C". -- this must be some kind of joke. Aahhhh... -- he went on, looking for a bookcase with the letter "M" on it.

He walked around the archives, looking for the right bookcase. Finally, at almost the very end of the hallway, he found what he was looking for.

His name had a special bookcase. He had forgotten about it. The names of the founders of Knighton had separate bookcases.

He started looking through the names on the bookcase. A... B... C... here he paused for a moment. It turned out that he was the only one in his family with a "C" name. He took his birth certificate and started looking through it.

He found his mother's name:

Wanda Moorington.

And his father was listed as "unknown." Why "unknown"? But that wasn't important now. He had told himself what he wanted. He put the birth certificate back in its place and went back to the front desk. There he just said "Goodbye" to the receptionist and left. Now he knew who he was supposed to be looking for. But how was he supposed to find out where he lived? Wait...

Then he remembered. After all, that receptionist said he knew his grandfather. He immediately went back to the library and approached the front desk. The old man had been sitting there reading the newspaper the whole time. When he saw Clay, he immediately put down the newspaper and said:

-- Good morning. Do I think you just left here?

-- Yes... because... -- Clay didn't know what to say. -- Uh... I heard you knew my grandfather.

-- A... right. I did. And quite well. We still meet sometimes. -- said the old man with a smile.

-- So you know where he lives?

-- Of course. Why, young man, don't you know where your grandfather lives? -- asked the puzzled receptionist.

-- Well... it's more complicated than that.

-- All right. I see. He lives in the northern part of the city. His house number is... let me see... 14. Yeah, yeah. 14. Definitely.

-- Thank you. Good-bye. -- said Clay and left the library.

He went to the northern part of the town. There he looked for the house with the number 14. He passed by the following houses.

-- 10..., 11..., 12... Where are you? -- he asked himself.

Suddenly he saw the number 14 on one of the houses. He went up to the door. He already wanted to knock, but stopped his hand at the last moment. He did not know what to expect. He didn't know if his grandparents even knew of his existence. But he decided to take a chance. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door was opened by an older woman. She was a brunette, but you could see gray streaks in some places. Her hair was loose and her eyes were dark blue. She smiled friendly and said:

-- Good morning. How can I help you?

-- Because... it's just... er... -- Clay didn't really know how to tell this woman he was her grandson. Plus, he wasn't sure that he was for sure. But... -- I... I'm... your grandson.

The woman looked at him more closely and opened her eyes wider. As if she couldn't believe them.

-- Did I understand you correctly? Are you saying that you are my... grandson?

--- I know it sounds strange, but... yeah... at least I think so, because...

-- That's impossible. -- he was interrupted by a woman. -- are you... Wanda's son?

-- Er... yeah... I think so. If we're talking about the same person.

-- Come in. -- showed her hand to the entrance of the house.

Clay entered the house. At the same moment, an old man started coming down the stairs. He had gray hair. And he didn't look as old as you might think.

-- Who are you? -- he asked Clay.

-- Er... I...

-- Come on, Edgar. He's our guest. -- said with a smile.

-- I think he's yours, Anna. You're always bringing home some... weirdos. And anyway... what's your name, boy? -- he turned to Clay.

-- I... my name is Clay Moorington.

-- Moorington, right? Prove it. -- said Edgar.

-- And how? -- asked Clay puzzled. How was he supposed to prove his name was Moorington? He had no idea.

-- Let me see his left hand. -- commanded Edgar.

Clay shook his hand. Edgar looked at the scar on the top of his palm and said:

-- So it is. Not nice, Wanda, not nice. -- looked up and let go of Clay's hand.

-- But what do you mean? -- asked a surprised Clay.

-- Wanda didn't tell us about your existence at all. And I thought I knew her.

-- Leave him alone already. -- said Anna with a smile. -- Come on. You probably want to know something about Wanda

And Anna led Clay into the living room.