Jann is minding his own business. He is playing by himself in the courtyard with a wooden sword: this definitely constitutes minding his own business. Nothing that follows is his fault.
"Sure, why not? You might want to get your own horse if you're going to make international trips like that, though, unless you packed a flying carpet."
"Horse breeders sometimes come around and try to advertise to us, since we're in the market."
"I know a few things. I'm not an expert but I'll help. First rule: don't get one that bites."
"Yep! If you disobey this rule you will find tadpoles in your drinking water for a year and a day. Also your horse will bite you."
"You caught me. That part only lasts a month. But horse bites, ah, horse bites are forever."
"Anyway, play chess by mail with Milo and he'll love you, win and he'll love you more but it will be a snarly love."
"Yeah. His dad can win, Reko - duke of Ferdinandia, technically no relation if I recall right - can win, I think that's it."
"I'll give it my best," he says, grinning. Jann has no way of knowing this, but it is the same grin he grinned when he asked how many instructors he would have to beat in practice duels before they'd let him into the school two years before the normal age with no money, no disclosed lineage, and no recommendations.
"And here's the dormitories. Your cohort's going to be down that hall, they don't assign rooms, just pick one that nobody's in and it's all yours. I'm upstairs, third on the right, if you have any questions you want to bring to your, what's my formal title, mentor? I will also be upstairs if you do not."