Later that day, Esme, Daniel, and Lillian wound their way through the cobbled streets of the Arts Quarter, on the hunt for last-minute school supplies. These narrow thoroughfares of uneven stone were used to the tap of students’ shoes. Most belonged to the aspiring musicians of the nearby Conservatorium, where Lillian took singing lessons—although Daniel and Lillian recognised plenty of familiar faces from Pierpont College amongst the crowds. Some had stopped to chat, creating little islands in the middle of the lanes, around which students flowed like the water of the adjacent canal.
Daniel peered into his wallet. ‘This is looking a lot emptier than before.’
‘Mine too,’ said Esme. ‘It’s a good thing Pierpont doesn’t charge school fees. I’ve almost run out of the merles Mum left behind.
