Thief of Time - Fine

Personal time moved on again, and a voice behind them said, 'Is this yours?'

Behind them there were glass steps. At the top of the steps was a man dressed like a History Monk,
shaven-headed, besandalled. The eyes gave away a lot more. A young man who'd been alive for a very long time, Mrs Ogg had said, and she had been right.

He was holding a struggling Death of Rats by the scruff of his robe.

'Er, he's his own,' said Susan, as Lobsang bowed.

'Then please take him away with you. We cannot have him running around here. Hello, my son.'

***

The Thief of Time - p326