“Master Gwirionedd,” Fauntleroy says sharply. Her face is carefully blank, and she has taken on the tone that she would use with an unruly student. “Calm yourself. You’re being overly emotional. You’re not thinking clearly.” She crosses her arms and raising her chin slightly, as if to indicate she will not back down. “I understand your desire to go help this child before it is too late, but we need to apply rational thought to this situation. You cannot help anyone if you let yourself be lead by your emotions. How will you help anyone if you rush in there and die a fool’s death?”