“Dominic! How on earth are we going to pay them?” Ardhuin whispered urgently.
He shook his head. “How could I tell them no, after all they’ve been through? And you know, their experience will be advantageous. It isn’t as if you could find such servants anywhere you looked.”
“It will be nice, I suppose—oh look, there’s Peran!”
Her house—and his house too, now—was still intact, if a little weather-worn.
“The yard looks dreadful. I have a lot of work to do.”
“You need to work on your book!” Ardhuin said, shocked. “I suppose we’ll have to hire a real gardener next.”
The wards were still intact, but weak, and Ardhuin claimed none of her traps had been triggered. They both busied themselves with moving trunks and unpacking until the bell rang at the door, announcing Michel’s return.
“I’m going to have to come up with some way of adjusting the wards for them,” Ardhuin said, running down the stairs. “I don’t suppose they would welcome being shut out by mistake.”
In addition to Henri, his wife, and their minimal baggage, Michel deposited a large wicker hamper on the step before returning to his cart. Henri opened it, and a familiar orange-and-white cat jumped gracefully out and immediately began grooming himself.
“That’s not the same...I thought he was killed when the mansion collapsed!” Dominic exclaimed.
“Oh no, sir, he’s a very resourceful cat. Intelligent, if I may say so,” Henri said indulgently. “Everyone seemed to think he should come with us.”
“I agree completely. That cat saved my life,” Dominic said. “I will personally give him a saucer of cream at the earliest opportunity.”
“Speaking of which, I suppose the larder will be quite bare with you being away so long,” Estelle said thoughtfully. “What would you wish me to prepare for you, Madame?”
Ardhuin went off with Estelle to explain the state of the kitchen as best she could, and Dominic tried to soothe Henri’s feelings, greatly ruffled by the thought of Ardhuin in the habit of traveling in Michel’s cart.
“There is a carriage,” Dominic said. “It hasn’t been used in some time. I suppose we could get Michel to drive it when—”
The bell rang again. Dominic looked at Henri, surprised. “Were there any other prospective servants with you?”
The old man shook his head, and with grave dignity went to the door as if that had been his task for years.
“Yes, sir?”
Dominic could see a man in the uniform of the Queen’s Hussars standing on the step. He bowed and stated he had a message for Madame Kermarec.
“I shall see if she is at home to visitors,” Henri said, and made his way towards the kitchen. Dominic preceded him at a much more rapid pace.
“Who?” Ardhuin blinked at him, as he blurted out what he had seen. “Does the whole world know about us? I thought we went to a lot of effort to keep it private.”
“We did! I want to know why a Queen’s Hussar is standing on our doorstep,” Dominic said, in some agitation. “Those are the private guard of Queen Anne, and are not used to deliver mail. What does he want?”
“I suppose we should find out,” Ardhuin said, and handed off a very long list of what appeared to be shopping to Estelle.
The man bowed profoundly to Ardhuin when she appeared, offered a large, ornate envelope with both hands, and then turned and left.
“It has a magical seal,” Dominic observed. Ardhuin let power flow over her hand and opened it.
“So, her Majesty seems to know about me. I think we know who to thank for that. Oh. Oh my.” She stared at the letter, motionless. Dominic finally could no longer contain himself.
“What is it? Is anything wrong?”
“It’s from her, Dominic. The Queen herself! Our gratitude for assuming the burden of Mage Guardian of Bretagne, so on, so forth, the right of requesting a personal audience...more verbiage...kindly inform the Minister of the Treasury of the desired deposition of the yearly stipend...stipend? What stipend?” She held out the letter to him.
“It would appear they do not expect you to provide the magical defense of Aerope out of your own pocket,” Dominic said, glancing at it. “And a good thing, too. We can afford that gardener now, I think. I wonder if Michel would be willing to be our regular coachman, since he already performs that function at need. Is the stipend...usual?” He glanced carefully at Henri, standing some distance away.
“I have no idea. My great-uncle never mentioned it, but...but he did seem to think I would be able to support myself and the staff to maintain this house on my own. Now I know what he meant.”
“Did you read the last part of the letter?” Dominic asked. “Is she serious? How does she expect you to find other...others like yourself?”
“Someone has to do it,” Ardhuin said reasonably. “I certainly don’t want to be the only one. I don’t even know where to begin, though.”
“Does Madame speak of the Mage Guardians?” Henri asked. They both stared at him, shocked, and he smiled slightly. “My former master spoke of them often, and intemperately. Since Madame was able to defeat him, I assumed you were one of their number. He feared very little, but the Mage Guardians gave him pause.”
Ardhuin took a deep breath. “Quite. I trust your discretion, Henri.”
He bowed. “Madame, my life is at your service.”
Dominic took her hand. “Come, let us consider the matter in the library. Who do we need to replace? Preusa, definitely. I don’t want to go back there anytime soon, at least not until it thaws. What sort of requirements do we have?”
Ardhuin started up the stairs beside him, her upper lip caught between her teeth in the way that never failed to make his heart race, and he wondered how long she would want to work on this—or if he could persuade her to postpone it until tomorrow.
“Shall I bring tea to the library, Madame?” Henri asked.
“No! No tea. We need to think,” said Dominic firmly. “Alone.”
The End
Guardian's Compact series
The Last Mage Guardian
Dragonhunters
The Sequoyah Trilogy
The Long Way Home
Raven's Children
Queen of Chaos
Argonauts of Space series
The Scent of Metal
One Blood
Jinxers
The Bureau of Substandards Annual Report
Short Stories
The Correct Way to Fill Out Form PCR-103-u
Coyote and the Amazing Herbal Formula
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The Last Mage Guardian Page 35
