I had made a short detour to Brother Ambrose's stillroom on the way to my chamber.

Brother Ambrose touched me gently, bringing me out of my daze.

"Brother Ambrose brought me down here the other day to soak," he said.

"Brother Ambrose will be eager to converse with you, I'm sure."

Brother Ambrose has a few things that might help.

But there are no towns such as the ones whereof you speak, Brother Ambrose.

No one knew the abbey rolls as Brother Ambrose did.

Perhaps, when Brother Ambrose fell ill, he would have liked to be trusted to take over his books.

I had scarce explored my niche when Brother Ambrose returned.

Could it be the same, I wondered, as that of which the slave had told Brother Ambrose?