"Ah, well. Why would they care if you asked about his world and his past? Get someone else to ask for you? I'm not sure why this is such a struggle. There are alternatives to you looking angry at books." He waggles said book, still in one hand.

"All right, not a price per se. But as my apprentice, there would have to be an agreement. A contract. You would defer to me in matters concerning your teachings and my magic. That's all."

It's like there's a little sliver of a lie worming around somewhere in those words, but it's so thin and pale, it might not be there at all. Just a breath of something he's not elaborating on, perhaps?