He is once more sitting on a grown-up's knee looking at the pages of a book. A voice in his ear, the deep voice of last time, is telling him about what they see in the book. Except that what the voice is talking about now isn't in the picture; Muko is being told the story of what's behind the picture. He can remember odd phrases, and bits of sentences.
“He was treated like a god in his time, you know, but he was actually a bad person … He started up something called a cult.”
“What's a cult?” Muko heard his own high little boy's voice asking.
“You'll understand when you're older, but for now all you need to know is that cults can be dangerous. He was a dangerous person. He once killed a pupil just for showing him he was wrong.”
Muko's recollections were interrupted by a creak of hinges as the door opened. The whole class froze exactly as they were. Muko likewise was motionless, his mouth dry with terror.
'He kills pupils. I hope he will not kill us,' was the thought going round in his head.