Mercedes Lackey - Fairy Godmother

She turned to Elena. "As for you — are you certain you wish to continue to be a Godmother? You certainly qualify as a Sorceress, if you choose. It seems a waste of your time for you to be puttering about with small problems and making potions and amulets."

She shook her head, vehemently. "No — I would much rather take care of things while they are small problems, please. And I really don't mind making potions and amulets for farmers and shepherds. It's only the ones that live in my village that come to me for such things, anyway."

"True enough, there are Witches in plenty in your other Kingdoms. Well, dear, there are those of us who would rather hide away on the mountaintop until terrible situations require resolving, and those of us who prefer to have people about us and nip smaller emergencies in the bud." She smiled. "And, truth to tell, I wouldn't be living among you mortals if I wasn't the latter."

"Nor me," said the old Wizard, cheerfully. "There's room for all sorts, thank heavens! Now, I hate to put you two to work immediately, but you'll have to for a bit. You, Alexander — I need you to go help your brothers sort out what to do with that little army that your brother Octavian brought. And help Julian out with his reconciliation letter to your father; from all reports he keeps weeping over it and tearing it up. He's a good boy, but a bit — "

" — sentimental," the Wizard and Alexander said together.

"Anyway, when you get that sorted, do something sensible with the Katschei's treasure, too. Just burying it or putting it in the treasury will only invite more trouble. I don't think Julian will need convincing, especially not if you hint at curses."

"You could offer most of it to a dragon," Elena suggested suddenly, recalling her initial impression of a dragon's hoard. "In exchange for monster hunting or something. The dragon could even live up here, as the symbol of the Order."

"Oh, there's a lovely thought!" said the Sorceress, brightening. "And we'd have a source for shed scales and blood!"

"Does that suit you?" the Fairy Godmother asked Alexander. "Good. I'll find the dragon, then."

"And the rest of it can be used to reward Octavian and his force, those magical creatures that came to help us, and repair the damage to the palace and compensate the families of those who were killed," said Alexander.

"And when you finally return home, I believe you'll find that you now have all the resources of the first inhabitant of Emerald Cottage, and the responsibilities that go with it. Which means that you will need to establish a permanent portal — or perhaps, I should say reestablish — with one Witch, Wizard or Sorceress in each of the Kingdoms for which you are responsible." The Fairy Godmother gave Elena a long look. "You will have your Mirror-Slave Randolf contact my Mirror-Slave Esteban when you have decided who will play host and where each one will be, and the appropriate Moot will gather to create them — or reopen them, if you decide to use the old ones. This is as much to keep you from acting too impulsively as it is for your convenience. If you know you can get to the source of trouble by stepping across a portal, you'll be less likely to fly off without waiting for answers to your messages."

Elena blushed.

"Now, I believe that this will do." She looked up and down the table, getting nods from all assembled. "Very well. This Grand Council session is closed. Commendations to Godmother Elena and Champion Alexander, who are admonished to go back down into Fleurberg and finish tidying up, keeping in mind that a Godmother always cleans up after herself and a Champion never leaves a job half-finished. All agreed?"

"Agreed, " came the chorus.

"Opposed? Abstentions? Good." She looked back up at Alexander and Elena. "Well? What are you waiting for? An invitation to join the Grand Council? Be careful or you'll get it!"

Elena made a small sound of alarm in her throat, and to the sound of kindly laughter from around the table, they turned and fled as one. Nightsong was waiting for them at the door, tacked up in a new saddle with a pillion seat. Alexander took the saddle, and greatly relieved not to be responsible for being anything other than a passenger, Elena took his hand and pulled herself up onto the pillion behind him.

"Ready?" he asked.

"For anything," she replied, with a soaring heart.

"Be careful what you ask for, Godmother," he warned. "You might get it!"

"And if I do?" she shrugged, gaily. "Then we handle it together."

"So we do," he agreed. "So we do! It can't be any worse than the family reunion we're about to negotiate!"

She laughed, and shook her head. "You're right. Oh, families! All right, Nightsong! To Fleurberg!"

He laughed as well. "To Fleurberg, and my brothers! But this time — we'll take our time about it."

And the great black stallion trotted off — rather than flying — under a cloudless blue sky.

Madame Fleur plumped herself down on a chair at the little table in the window of the Rose and Ivy with a sigh, and tucked her heavy string shopping-bag beneath the seat. Her sister Blanche did the same.

"Dear saints, what a day!" Blanche said fanning herself with her hand. "I do believe that every living body in town was in the market today."

"I would not disagree," Fleur said. "What a crush! I don't know, dear, perhaps we're getting too old to fight our way through the market. Do you think we ought to hire a boy for it?"

"Or a girl. Actually, I would not be averse to hiring another girl altogether, for more of the household chores." Blanche made a face. "Perhaps we are getting old."

"Well, if we are, then there's no shame in hiring another girl. We've earned it," said Fleur decisively. She looked out of the window. "I must say, it's very convenient, having this inn right next door," she added brightly. "So nice, being able to nip over for a bite when we're too tired to cook!"

"Terribly convenient," echoed Blanche, a twinkle in her eye. The pot-girl, a bit of hair straggling damply into her eyes, hurried over to take their orders. "Ah, Daphne, there you are. What has Theresa got on the menu today?"

Now, both of them knew very well what Theresa Klovis had on the menu, because it rarely changed, but both of them took a great deal of pleasure in watching Daphne Klovis stand there and recite it all.

Red-faced from her exertions, the formerly-plump daughter of Madame Klovis told over the menu without a flicker of exasperation. She daren't display any bad temper, not now, not when she knew very well that if anyone complained to the debtors who owned what had been the Klovis home, there would be a reckoning.

"Well, I do believe that I will have a Ploughman's Luncheon," said Blanche, as she always did. "With a nice ale to wash it down."

"And cold quiche for me, and a glass of white wine," said Fleur as she always did. Daphne hurried off, her back hair straggling down from under her cap. Gone were the silk gowns and ribbons; the Klovis's all wore what any working servant did; a plain smock-dress and canvas skirt, a plain apron to go over it, and a plain mob-cap.

"Well, all this work is doing her good," Blanche observed. "That weight has come off nicely."

When Madame Klovis had returned, without a rich husband, but expecting to find "her" house being cared for by her stepdaughter, she found something else instead. Forewarned by Madame Fleur that she was coming, a committee of those to whom she owed money was waiting.

The committee included a brace of constables, and before you could say "knife," they had hustled off Madame and her daughters, all three of them protesting at the tops of their lungs, while their creditors stripped the coach of everything and divided her belongings among themselves. There was less there than she had taken with her — foreign climes had not been receptive to Madame and the girls, and foreign merchants disinclined to part with anything on credit, and she had been forced to sell a great many things in order to support herself and her daughters in what she considered to be the proper style. There certainly was nothing near enough to settle her enormous debts.