The next morning, they entered the town along with a party of merchants from Silverlode leading a train of mules laden down with sheepskins. Andor was, if anything, even more cramped and crowded than Fort Battleaxe. It had only one main street, running parallel to the River, which widened out into the market place in the middle and was so crammed full of market stalls, salesmen, beggars, buskers, guardsmen and customers in search of the day's bargains that it took a real effort to cross from one side to the other. It was a pickpocket's paradise, and Thomas warned them to keep a tight hold onto their pouches as they struggled through.

     Around the market place stood most of the town's public buildings, such as they were. The combined courthouse and town hall, the town's one and only temple, the appraisal office owned by the nearby copper mine, the moneylender's offices and also, probably most important of all, the town's largest inn, the Pick and Shovel. Thomas led them past all of these, however, and took them to a narrow road between the large (well, largish) homes of two of the town's most prominent citizens. Once past these well built, attractively decorated buildings they came to the real Andor, a grubby place with narrow mucky streets whose foul smelling drainage ditches were choked with litter and drying mud.

     The buildings on either side were made from rather poor quality bricks which had a tendency to disintegrate after a few years, making it necessary to rebuild at regular intervals, thereby ensuring the brickmakers a steady source of income. They were three or four storeys tall and their upper storeys were wider than at ground level, so that people leaning out of opposing second storey windows could almost have shaken hands across the street. It made the streets dark and squalid even on the brightest, sunniest days, and only a narrow strip of blue sky could be seen high above them. They had small windows made from thick, cloudy glass which only admitted just barely enough light to see by, and those who could afford them used lamps and candles even during the brightest part of the day. Since most people spent most of their lives indoors, their eyes tended to adapt permanently to the gloom, and a town dweller who ventured out into the countryside could be spotted easily by the way they squinted and shaded their eyes in the sunlight.

     "Your family lives here?" asked Lirenna, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She found it hard to believe that anyone would choose to live under these conditions. It was such a stark contrast to the beautiful valley of Haven in which she'd grown up, in which, with the exception of the silver city, no town had more than a few hundred inhabitants and sprawled over as great an area as they wanted, mingling with the surrounding countryside. This place, in comparison, was like a cramped, squalid prison.

     "Yeah," agreed Thomas. "I know it's not exactly paradise, but this part of the world was shaped by the Shadowwars. Out here, you have only two options. Either live out of town, in one of the surrounding villages, where you can be comfortable and happy, surrounded by nature, fresh air, the twittering of birds and the lowing of cattle, or cramped and uncomfortable in the town, surrounded by crowds of noisy people, bad smells, and the ever present threat of being mugged and murdered. An easy choice, you might think, until you remember that in this town you're surrounded by strong city walls and protected by a garrison of Beltharan troops. Most of the people living out of town are the ones who have to, like farmers for instance, and most of them have relatives in town with whom they can stay in times of trouble. Old habits die hard."

     "What does your family do here?" asked Jerry.

     "My dad's a cobbler, and my mum weaves carpets that she sells in the market. We're not a terribly wealthy family, but we get by."

     Thomas saw a man pushing a cart full of potatoes, a man about his own age but larger and stronger, with long tangled hair and hands almost black with deeply ingrained dirt. He gave a cry of recognition and dashed over to greet him. “Henry! It’s me, Tom!” The man paused to look at him without recognition. “Thomas Gown! I went off to become a wizard! Remember? Thomas! Thomas Gown!”

     “Tom?” said the man, his eyes widening. “Tom! It is you!” He grasped the wizard by the arms to look at him better. “You’re so tall! How long has it been? Five years?”

     He glanced over at the others, waiting patiently a couple of paces back, not wanting to intrude on the reunion, and his eyes widened at the sight of the nome and the demi shae. “They’re my friends,” explained Thomas. “They’re coming with me to meet my folks.”

     Henry nodded uncertainly ay them, then looked back at Thomas. “By the Gods it’s good to see you again. Hey, Al, look it’s Tom! Come back again!”

     “This is Henry,” Thomas told the others. “We went to school together  He lives in my street.”

     “I live outside now,” said Henry. “Married Daisy and work on their farm. Come into town now and then to sell potatoes and sink a few jars in The Pick and Shovel. So, you’re back  Hey, Al! Look! It’s Tom, back home again!”

     Another man came over, his face full of curiosity, and cried out in delight when he also recognised the young wizard. Thomas introduced the new arrival to his companions, and then to a third man who drifted over to see what was going on. Then he introduced his travelling companions to the townsmen. Soon a small crowd was gathering, staring curiously at the nome and the demi-shae, and the two humanoids shuffled nervously, uncomfortable with the attention.

     “What’s going on?” asked a guardsman, wandering over to join them. He glanced at Shaun and Matthew, his eyes flicking to the hilts of their swords to make sure they were peace knotted. Thomas didn’t recognise him, he wasn’t one of his old friends, and so he had to explain that he used to live here and that he’d left to study at a University in another country.

     “He went off to become a wizard,” said Henry, smiling with amusement, his eyes running up and down Tom’s grimy travelling clothes, so clearly not the long, flowing robes of a wizard. “Still, at least you got to see a bit of the world, eh, Tom? Far off countries. Exotic places, strange foreign people.” He looked at the two humanoids again. “And brought some of them back with you ”

     “We’re just passing through,” said Lirenna. “We came to meet Tom’s parents.”

     “Yes,” said Thomas, catching the subtle hint in her voice. “We ought to be going.”

     He moved away, towards his parents’ house, and the crowd came with him, picking up more people along the way. Tom’s companions heard them telling the new arrivals that Thomas Gown was back, explaining who he was for the benefit of those who didn’t know, and soon the news was spreading throughout the whole town, some people hearing that he’d become a powerful wizard, an important man who’d returned to take his place on the town council, others that he’d failed and had come home in defeat, desperately unhappy and needing to be consoled. Someone asked him which it was as they walked, and Tom confirmed that he had, indeed, passed his exams, along with Jerry and Lirenna. Gasps of amazement came from the crowd, and voices called out for him to cast a spell. Thomas ignored the requests, and then asked to be given some privacy as they arrived at the street in which his parents lived. The crowd stopped at the entrance of the street, but stared after them as the six companions continued on their way.

     Thomas stopped before a modest looking three storey brick building. It had a plain looking door and a large, wide window made from dozens of small panes held together by a wooden frame. Behind the window were displayed several dozen pairs of shoes, and a sign on the wall next to it said, ‘D. Gown. Cobbler.'

     "Here we are," he said excitedly. "This is my home, or at least the bottom floor of it is."

     He opened the door and entered a narrow hall in which there were two doors. One entered into the shop, while the other led into the cobbler's home and a flight of stairs up to the other two homes above. Thomas knocked on the second door and stood waiting, shivering with excitement.

     The door was opened by a large, cuddly woman with plump, rosy red cheeks and untidy grey hair tied in a bun. She was wearing a gravy stained apron over a faded blue dress and was holding a small peeling knife to which a small piece of potato peel was still clinging. "Yes?" she asked nervously, looking at the assorted bunch of people standing on her doorstep. Three young men in travel stained clothes, two of them wearing swords and armour. A tiny nome grinning all over his pudgy face, a young woman with the beautiful and noble face that marked her as having shae blood and another young woman wearing a silver caroli flower around her neck, marking her as a cleric of the Goddess of Healing.

     "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You must want my husband. He's..." Suddenly, she recognised the young man standing in front of her and grinning like an idiot. "Thomas!" she cried, grabbing him in a crushing hug. "You've come back at last! Oh Tom! We were expecting you weeks ago!"

     "Our carpet crashed, and we had to walk all the way from..." he began, but she wasn't listening. She had ducked back in and was calling out to someone else inside. "Del! Del! Edie! Tom's back!" They heard another voice coming from inside the house, and them Thomas's mother, whom he introduced as Margaret, ushered them inside and closed the door behind them.

     Inside, the house was snug and cosy. They found themselves in a short hall with a coat rack and a mirror on the wall, which led into the living room. They saw padded wooden furniture, their worn and faded fabric covers endlessly patched and sewn. Skilfully painted wooden ornaments and decorative plates were arranged on the shelves lining the walls. Two oil lamps smoked quietly in their niches and a log fire crackled contentedly in the grate. A roll of half finished carpet in one corner and a roll of shoe leather in the other testified that even in their supposed leisure time there was little rest for the occupants. The floor was covered by one of their home made carpets, worn bare in the middle and covered by a rug on which a small coffee table stood.

     Another middle aged woman entered, whom Thomas recognised as his aunt Edith, his mother's younger sister, followed by a middle aged man with grey streaks in his hair and wearing a leather apron, his father. “Tom!” cried Derek, grabbing him in his arms and giving him a bonecrushing hug. “By the Gods, Tom! You’re back! You’re really back!”

     Thomas felt his eyes filling with tears as his father held him, smelled the familiar smell of him, and it seemed that the past five years just evaporated away, that the hug he was receiving was the same hug his father had given him as he bade him a tearful farewell, so long ago now. This was his home, the place where he had always lived, the place where he would always live. The centre of his life, the centre of his universe.

     The hug went on and on and Tom was content to let it, but eventually his father put his hands on his son’s arms and held him in front of him, gave him a careful looking over. “You’ve changed,” he said.

     “I’m a wizard now,” said Thomas, a little apprehensively. He knew his father hadn’t been entirely happy about his decision to go to Lexandria, and it wasn’t just because he’d be away from home for so long. Even at so young an age, Thomas had known that his father feared that he’d come back changed, turned into some kind of alien creature by his experiences and the things he’d learned. No longer the same person as the son he loved with all his heart and all his soul. When his father told him that he’d changed, Thomas heard the faintest hint of accusation and fear in those two words, but then Derek smiled and laughed and Thomas felt the fear disappear, felt a relief and joy so strong that it felt as though he might burst from it.

     “You’re back!” his father repeated, and Thomas saw now that there were tears in his eyes as well. “You’re really back!”

     Introductions were made all round. The three townspeople stared in astonishment at the nome and the demi-shae, and bowed and curtsied respectfully to the young cleric. Shaun and Matthew stared at each other in slight annoyance as they were pretty much ignored, but then they grinned at each other. Thomas’s family were so overjoyed to see their son again that it was impossible not to be infected by it, and they decided to accept their status as run of the mill woodsmen in good grace.

     Tom’s parents were delighted to learn that Thomas had passed all his tests and was now a fully qualified wizard, and Derek kept repeating the phrase "My son the wizard!" over and over again as if he couldn't bring himself to believe it, in between laughing and clapping him hard on the back.

     "How you've grown!" his mother kept saying, and she kept making him stand against a wall where she'd measured his height during his childhood. "Look, Edie! Look how he's grown!"

     The Winterwells chuckled to themselves as Thomas grew red with embarrassment. He kept trying to introduce his friends, to bring them into the conversation, but his parents were only interested in finding out everything that had happened to him over the past five years while at the same time bringing him up to date with events in Andor since he'd left.

     "Edie, our manners!" cried Margaret suddenly, slapping herself on the head. "I'll go put the kettle on. Who wants a nice cup of tea?"