Well, in that case —
“The same thing I wore last night,” she declared. “A pair of Sebastian’s breeches, one of my bodices and a shirt of some sort.” If Sebastian was offering her freedom — well, she would see how he took to her walking about in breeches.
Sapphire whisked out of the closet with a pair of rather lovely, buttery fawn-colored suede breeches, a bodice of a darker brown and a cream-colored blouse with huge sleeves caught up by ribbons at the wrist that she didn’t even know she had. And just as Sapphire finished lacing up the bodice, there was a faint tap at the door, it opened and a pair of beautiful, soft, brown leather boots came gliding in.
Now, she could see immediately that these boots weren’t new. But the Spirit Elementals had cleaned them, buffed them and refreshed them until they were actually better than new, for they had none of the stiffness of new boots or shoes. Sapphire steadied her as she tried them on. They were only a little too big, not enough to matter, not even enough for an extra pair of socks.
She had a good idea where they had come from — they’d probably belonged to Sebastian’s mother. She doubted very much that he would recognize a pair of her boots. A gown — perhaps. Or perhaps not. But not a pair of boots. Footwear was not exactly memorable.
Not this sort of footwear, anyway. She felt a twinge of amusement at some of the incredible shoes and dancing slippers Genevieve had ordered, both for herself and the twins. And, she supposed, it was possible one of the twins’ would-be swains would remember a pair of that fanciful footgear.
But probably not.
Well, since Eric wasn’t going to be here, and they weren’t going out on a patrol, that left her morning free for other things. Although this might be a test of sorts…
While she watched her father in the mirror, and read his letter, she thought about that. She was supposed to be counterfeiting Eric’s new Under-Gamekeeper. He might be testing her with this, to see if she was up to the challenge of at least a limited patrol alone.
All right, then, she would do it. In her coat, no one would be able to tell she was a woman. And she could get back with plenty of time to put in some work in the stillroom before she met Sebastian for dinner and her magic lesson.
A fine plan.
“I need my horse saddled and ready,” she told Sapphire, who whisked away.
She explained her plan to Sebastian, who readily agreed it was a good idea, ate her breakfast as quickly as she could manage and went out on her ride.
She returned — with a tangle of snares in her saddlebag — in good time to get some work done in the stillroom. She had a suspicion about those snares, because they had been just a little too easy to find. And it would not have been difficult for Eric to set them up before he rode off to the city. If that was true, she would definitely have passed the test. And if it was not, she could report with some satisfaction to Eric that Abel had made his solo presence known to the poachers.
There was a basket of things waiting for her on the stillroom workbench when she opened the door: the various items that Granny and Godmother Elena had promised her, and the recipes she would be using them in. There were two she was able to complete before lunch, and three more — which required much more steeping and combining and distilling — that she got started. All in all, a good morning!
She brought the two completed items with her — a powder and a decoction — when she came down to dinner. Sebastian greeted her with a happy grin, and her concoctions with a whistle of appreciation.
“I don’t know what it is, but I have no luck at making these things,” he said ruefully, over rabbit stewed in wine — they still had an over-abundance of rabbits in the larder, thanks to all the ground she and Eric had been covering. “I either measure it wrongly, or I steep it too long or not enough, or I boil it over when I try to distill.”
She paused a moment, and sucked on her spoon. “Maybe I am a witch, after all?” she hazarded. “Witches are supposed to be very good with herbs and potions and all that sort of thing.”
“But so are sorceresses,” he reminded her. “It’s not just what you are good with. It’s what you are good at.”
Well, that was true… She wasn’t any good at Transformations, which was a witch specialty, nor the little cousin of Transformations, Illusions. The stable cats were absolutely indifferent to her, and generally you could not manage to walk through a witch’s house without having to shove aside half a dozen cats. Witches were quite good at sending their spirits out “piggybacking” on animals and birds — her spirit stayed quite stubbornly in her body, refusing to budge.
On the other hand, when it came to the manipulation of sheer, raw magical energy, her control was getting better and more precise every day. And that was certainly the hallmark of a sorceress.
“But if you haven’t any luck making the components — ” she began.
“Ah! You see, a wizard doesn’t have to. That’s why he has an apprentice!” Sebastian laughed. “I’ll tell you the truth — the ‘absentminded wizard’ is more true of me than I would like to admit. Making components bores me, and that’s half the reason why I’m no good at it.”
“Aha, now the truth comes out!” she said with amusement. “Thank Godmother Elena for sending me the ingredients then.”
He snorted. “Godmother Elena was getting tired of sending me the components every time I begged her, and so was Granny when I actually dared to approach her. Which I didn’t unless I couldn’t help it,” he retorted. “It’s hardly difficult for magicians like them. And in the Godmother’s case, it’s not as if she was making them herself! No, it was her Brownies who were doing it.”