"Pardon, Brother, but I was talking to this man," Patrick tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He turned back to the young man. "The kitchens are running out of firewood."
"What of it?" another youth said. "They are the hosts. It is the City's concern."
"There is a forest not far from here," Patrick replied. "For every day that the kitchens don't run out of wood, I will answer one question. Only one, mind you, so you'd better think about it."
"We will need to ask if we don't understand something," Barsta said.
"Fair enough."
"Come, we have some work to do." Barsta looked at Patrick. "Where will we find you?"
"I can come here after breakfast each day." Barsta nodded. "Be welcome, then." He led the group of youth out toward the gate.
"I'm not sure that was a wise idea." Brother Raston said.