It sounds like a trick question, and Caspian is momentarily catapulted back to those horrible twice-a-week walks with his uncle, when Miraz would either drone on about deadly boring things or bark questions the child Caspian was had no idea how to answer.

"I'm starting to think I don't," he says, dry. "To me, it means she trusted me enough to tell me precisely that: what she thought mattered."