//------------------------------// // Part 1, Chapter 1: The Maid of the Library // Story: The Maid // by Dinkledash //------------------------------// The dashing unicorn prince parried the claw of the enormous black dragon with the thin blade he held expertly in his magical grip. The beast snarled as the tip of one hooked talon fell away from the razor-sharp edge of the Damarescus steel, to bounce down the side of the hoard of gold and gems upon which he made his nest. Prince Silverhoof took a moment to glance over the monster's shoulder at the cage of black annamannatite alloy, his argent mane glittering in the reflected light of the torches that shimmered off the mound of treasure in the center of the chamber. Within lay the object of the quest, his beloved fiancé, Princess Everheart, her powerful alicorn magic rendered useless by the nullification properties of the alloy that drained her and left her helpless. The dragon roared in rage, but moved cautiously as the blade rose to his eye level, suspended in a pale nimbus that matched the one that flickered up the prince's horn. He knew that a strike to the eye could blind him, or worse, and backed away slowly, stilling his rage as he regarded the noble unicorn below him. "Well struck," the villain said in a growl. "What is it brings one such as you to the humble cave of Deathworm?" "My princess does, " said the Prince. "How dare you ponynap her and keep her here in durance vile?" The blade flashed menacingly. Deathworm grunted. "Ponynap? Her? Me? You believe I ponynapped her? Do you think I transformed into - I don't know, a mouse perhaps? And snuck into her tower and spirited her away without her guards noticing?" Silverhoof looked momentarily unsure of himself. "Uh - did you?" "No!" Small puffs of smoke escaped from the dragon's nostrils. "I'm a dragon , not a changeling! I rescued her from a band of earth pony brigands that were taking her along the mountain road in a cart." "You rescued her?!" The prince stared at the dragon, his jaw hanging in an undignified manner. Deathworm shrugged, the scales on his massive shoulders clattering as his wind from his wings stirred the cobwebs around the cave. "Well, sort of. I ate the brigands and then checked to see what treasure they had in the cart under the blanket, and..." he gestured at the supine alicorn, "...there she was." "Why didn't you let her out then?" Silvermane's blade slowly dipped away from the dragon's face as he looked up, curious. Deathworm sat back on his haunches and waved the claws of one mighty talon in front of the prince. "These were not made for the turning of pony-sized keys, are they? And even if I could, an alicorn waking up in the cave of a dragon might not be in the mood to chat. You know that round lake in the Dragon Lands with the glass bottom? Want to know why it's called Alicorn Lake?" "Ah. So, if I put my sword away, are you going to eat me?" The blade rose again, this time in a guard stance. The dragon put his claw to his chest in a fist and tapped several times. "Oh no, I had just woken up and I was famished. I won't have to eat for another couple of weeks. Besides, I don't even really like pony. A nice fat cow is more like it; pony is kind of, well, gamey and a bit on the dry side for me. No offense." The prince bowed his head. "None taken," he said as his silver locks fell around his aristocratic neck, returning the blade to its sheath. "So, may I take her with me?" "She's not doing me any good, so sure, why not?" Deathworm turned and searched around the corner in a pile of assorted junk. "Where did I put... aha!" He pulled out several saddlebags. "These are the bandits' rather meager belongings. I would think the key is probably in one of them." He tossed the bags to land at the unicorn's hooves. A nimbus glowed about the sacks and belts as the prince rummaged through them. "Hmm, nope, no, um why would they need a... never mind... um, ah, here we are!" A brass key glowed in the sure grip of expertly trained magical power. Triumphantly, Silverhoof held the key aloft. The dragon cleared his throat, belching a sulfurous cloud. "Ahem! Just how did you know where to look for her anyway?" The prince seemed to be looking miles into the distance as he drew himself up to his full height and pronounced, "Our bond of love, pure and true, is such that no distance, no barrier, no foul foe..." he paused, looking up, "...er, present company excepted..." and returned to his heroic pose, "... nor deepest sea, nor highest mountain, can bar..." "OK! I get it!" Deathworm rolled his dinner plate eyes. "So you always know where she is?" The prince deflated sightly. "Well, um, yes." "So why didn't you rescue her sooner? From the bandits? I've had her here for two days already. I've been giving her water but I was a bit concerned she'd starve to death." The prince scowled. "I was trapped in the dungeons of the wicked Troll King Mumamamababarrara! I knew my love was in peril, but my way was blocked by his army of..." The dragon held up a claw to stop his exposition once more. "Does she always know where you are?" Silverhoof reinflated, "Our bond of love, pure and..." he paused, seeing Deathworm's expression start to darken. "Yes!" he concluded with a flourish. "And how long were you trapped in the dungeons of King Mamam... Mumum..." "Mumamamababarrara." The dragon nodded, "Yes, that dastardly fellow. How long were you trapped?" "Three weeks! I had to drink from stagnant pools and eat glowing mushrooms!" "So, she knew you were trapped for three weeks and she didn't come rescue you? Or send an expedition to find you?" A coal-black brow cocked over a garnet eye. "Um..." The hero paused. "I'm - I'm sure she had, um..." "Important affairs of state to attend to?" Both brows rose as the dragon's lower lip curled down, mockingly. "Yes. Yes. Important affairs. Of state." Prince Silverhoof frowned. "CLEMENTINE!" A rich alto voice rang out from the kitchen. The unicorn filly slammed the dog eared copy of "The Silly Prince" shut and stuffed it under her straw mattress. Her thin, piping voice called, "Coming, Cookie!" as she went into action, grumbling to herself about being late again. She was short and skinny, not yet marked, light gray of coat, brown of eye and with a sandy mane and tail that were wholly unremarkable in every way except for their tendency to tangle, which was indeed remarkable. Jumping out of the bed, she whipped off her patched, gray shift and jumped into her patched, gray homespun scullery smock, then grabbed her somewhat stained gray bonnet and tied it under her chin. No time to comb out my mane, of course. She hastened to the door and reached out her hoof to grab the latch. And missed. And tripped. And wound up in an heap on the floor. Celestia, I hate mornings! As she lay in a daze, the door to the small bedroom she shared with the cook opened. Above her, scowling, towered old Cookie, a weathered, ugly old earth mare with a wart on her jutting chartreuse chin and a curly white mane that threatened to explode from under her bonnet. Two small black eyes that glittered like diamond chips looked down on her in disapproval that softened to concern. "Are you hurt, child?" She shook her head and slowly regained her footing. "No, Cookie." She gathered as much dignity as a clumsy eight year old could and said gravely, "I remain undestroyed, thank you." The old cook had cared for her ever since she found her on the road beside the overturned coach six years ago, a mile from the estate. Not found, so much as tripped over, Cookie had told her. Of her parents, coachponies and any others, there was no sign. Her first memories were of being carried by the old mare in the rain that cold, dark night, and a warm voice that whispered that she was safe and would be cared for. She loved the cook with all her heart and knew she was loved in return as the foal the cook never had. She counted herself blessed. The concerned eyes hardened again. "Well, what is good news for you is probably bad news for the cups and dishes. Now get to the kitchen before somepony notices!" She hastened to comply, but stopped for a moment and turned, momentary sadness reaching her mud-tinted eyes. "But nopony ever notices me. Except for you." The cook's stern expression warred with her heart, and as always when confronted with Clementine, her heart won and she melted. She stepped forward to hug her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "They will someday, my love. Someday." The hug turned into a light slap on the fanny. "Now get! Go burn the kitchen down, maybe they'll notice that!" The filly rolled her eyes and cantered down the hall to the kitchen as the cook closed the door. Cookie strolled to the bed and lifted up the mattress, seeing the book that had been borrowed from her ladyship's library, without permission, of course. She thinks I don't know. The old mare looked at the writing on the cover and wondered what it could be about. All she could tell was that it was different than the one she had seen last week. She couldn't read, but of course, none of the other servants could either, except for the butler, Mr. Glass, and that only to keep records. How does she do it? The cook replaced the book, knowing it would be returned when finished, and replaced with a new one. She gets upstairs, into the library of all places, exchanges a book, and escapes with nopony noticing. The cook frowned, puzzling. And how does she know how to read in the first place? She was a foal when I found her, not even two years old. Nopony could have taught her! Is it possible to teach yourself to read? Could she have learned the basics when her mother was reading to her, looking at the pages? No, that couldn't be. Cookie paced the small, plain room, turning every few seconds. If she's caught, we'll both be turned out by Mr. Glass. But what else does that poor filly have except for her books? If I took that from her, she'd wither and die inside. A unicorn who can't use magic? A cripple, without even stories to escape to? Ah well, I'll leave it up to fate. Celestia, watch over her! She heard a shriek from the kitchen, and the blood left her face as she rushed to open the door. The smell of smoke was in her nostrils as she stared in wide eyed shock as the kitchen wood pile blazed across the room from the stove. "Fire! Help!" cried the undercook, a middle-aged orange earth mare with all the common sense of a rolling pin, as she ran about the room uselessly. There was a splash and a profluence of steam as Cookie charged in, which cleared to reveal a damp and smudged Clementine holding the empty fire bucket, the handle between her teeth. Her bonnet was singed. Cookie hugged her hard this time. "Oh darlin! Are you alright? Land sakes, what happened?" The undercook, Thistlewhistle, sat on the stool and sobbed. Cookie turned to shout at her, "You useless thing! Running around like a blue arsed fly while this filly puts out the fire!" Thistlewhistle stood up abruptly. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me! I was rolling out pastries like you told me, cook! And you set the fire in the oven yourself a half hour ago." Cookie closed her eyes and calmed herself. "Yes, I did, and a spark must have come out the flue and landed in the kindling and set off the wood pile. But..." The undercook shook her head, the words pouring out. "No, no, no. No spark, cook. I was watching. The pile, it just flared up by itself, there weren't no smoke or smell or nothin' from the kindling. Just the little one looking at her pots and getting her scrubbing brushes. That's," she swallowed, "I'm sorry, that's why I lost me head. It was her." She pointed at Clementine who stared back in shock. Cookie's face darkened. "Oh that's fine, that's just fine! You just said the child was looking at her pots and collecting her brushes and nowhere near the fire! Yer daft, mare! Daft! It was not the filly's fault." Now Thistlewhistle looked angry. "I didn't say she did nothin'! I just says it were her! She doesn't have to do nothin', things just happen around her and you know it! She's cursed!" Cookie's anger turned to shock. I told her to set the kitchen on fire. And the kitchen caught fire. She was shaking when as she turned to look at Clementine, then steadied herself. "Darling, it isn't true. You're not cursed. And you!" She turned to face the undercook. "You keep your silly mouth shut about curses and nonsense or by the Pillars, I'll tear a strip off your hide!" Thistlewhistle squeaked in fear and fled down the hall as Mr. Glass, a dignified black unicorn in an impeccable black waistcoat with a gray vest, appeared at the door at the landing atop the stairs that went up the kitchen wall. He was accompanied by the underbutler and two of the hoofponies who served dinner, polished the silver and performed other odd jobs upstairs. He called out down the stairs, "Cookie! The fire, is it under control?" "Yes, Mr. Glass." She stood between Clementine and the stallions. "And is anypony hurt?" Mr. Glass had a gravelly voice, very controlled, and managed to ask that question without expressing any undue concern. "No, Mr. Glass." The butler nodded and turned to the other stallions, dismissing them back upstairs before descending into the kitchen. "What happened, Cookie?" His manner was direct and businesslike. "Mr. Glass, it must have been a spark from the flue that settled on the kindling. The undercook and me mustn't have noticed." "Well then, who put it out so quickly? And where is the fire bucket?" He cast his eye about. "Sir," Clementine spoke up quietly, coming around from behind cook's ample protection, and placed the bucket down in front of her. "Here's the fire bucket, sir." "Call me Mr. Glass, child. I'm the butler, not a guest of her ladyship." He walked towards her, looking at her as though surprised to see that she actually existed. "Our foundling, Cookie?" "Yes Mr. Glass." Cookie kept very still, hoping that the butler would stop asking questions and start issuing instructions. "Excellent well done, miss. Ah?" He smiled at her, gesturing for her to fill in the blank. "Clementine, s...Mister Glass." She performed a slow, wobbly curtsey, looking up gravely. The butler's stern expression returned as he bowed with significant gravity. "The household is in your debt, Miss Clementine. Your quick action may have saved property and even lives. You are to be commended. Cookie," he said, straightening, "kindly finish breakfast and ring up to the hoofponies, then have the child scrubbed and dressed properly. I have no doubt her ladyship will want to thank our savior herself." Clementine's eyes widened as her mouth opened wide. She'd never seen the lady of the estate. She barely knew that her name was Lady Rubymane and that only because she read her name written into some of the books she'd surreptitiously borrowed. Cookie nodded. "Yes, Mr. Glass. We'll have breakfast ready in twenty minutes." The butler nodded, turned quickly and marched up the stairs. "L-Lady Rubymane?" Clementine felt her knees growing weak. "No time for fainting Clemmie, we have a breakfast to serve. Go find Thistlewhistle and get back here!" An hour later, after Lady Rubymane had finished her breakfast and she had had time to digest, one of the hoofponies came down for Cookie and Clementine, who had been scrubbed within an inch of her life and dressed in a borrowed tunic from one of the younger upstairs maids. It fit her like a roasting bag, but it was clean. They had combed her mane and tail for fifteen minutes, getting the worst of the tangles out. She wore a borrowed bonnet as well. Cookie, in her best blouse and apron, chivvied her upstairs, telling her not to worry, curtsey when introduced, only speak when spoken to, and not to maintain eye contact when done answering her ladyship's questions. The two hurried to the landing and were ushered through the dining room into the parlor where Lady Rubymane was sitting, admiring the view from the window. She didn't turn when they entered, waiting until Mr. Glass announced, "Cookie and young Miss Clementine, my lady." The noble unicorn turned to smile at them. She was old, near to a century by some reports, but still had an ethereal beauty. Her white coat had dulled a bit from its former sheen, her jewel-tone red mane and tail were thinning and had lost their bounce, and the green-gold eyes were surrounded by lines, but they twinkled merrily in the morning light and her teeth were straight and white, indicating good health. "Cookie," she said in a soft, musical voice, "how good of you to come see me." The cook curtsied ponderously, "My Lady, I hope you enjoyed your breakfast." "Excellent as always, goodmare. And this is our young firepony?" She turned to regard Clementine. This is the pony everypony is frightened of downstairs? She's sweet and kind! "Clementine, my lady." She curtsied and for a wonder, didn't fall over. "Thank you, Clementine, for the service you did my household. You seem very self-possessed for one so young." She turned her regard to Cookie. "And thank you, goodmare, for keeping this young one safe and training her to be a useful, quick-thinking, and brave pony." Cookie curtsied again and, sensing her employer's mood, ventured with, "The useful took a little while, my lady, but she's always been brave and clever. I think she has her parents to thank there." "Indeed, Cookie. Would you and Glass mind very much leaving your young charge in my care for a while? I wish to speak with her." If Mr. Glass had any reaction, he didn't show it, but Cookie's eyes widened involuntarily. "Don't fear Cookie, I shan't eat her. Pony is kind of, well, gamey and a bit on the dry side for me." Clementine's eyes widened and she felt nervous sweat start to build up between her shoulder blades, as both Cookie and Mr. Glass, oblivious to her impending doom, my lady'd their way out of the parlor, the butler closing the door behind him. Alone with her now, the noble mare continued to smile in a beatific manner. "Come here, child, let me see you." She indicated the spot on the floor between her chair and the window. Clementine swallowed hard and walked, stumbling slightly, to the indicated spot. It was now easy to see how much larger the unicorn was than she, how long and sharp her horn was, that behind her kind eyes radiated a sort of... power. She's sweet and kind, remember? her inner voice prodded ironically. Clementine noticed now that Lady Rubymane held a quill in one of her hooves, and as she studied her, she jammed it into one of her own hooves, wincing slightly. "So, my dear, where did you leave Prince Silverhoof?" Part of her wanted to run, part of her wanted to cry, part of her wanted to apologize and beg for mercy. But she thought about what Cookie said. Speak when spoken to, and answer her questions. "My lady, h-he..." she swallowed again, "he just learned that Princess Everheart doesn't love him. At least not as much as he loves her. I think." "Ah, in Deathworm's lair, yes." She chuckled. "How does it feel to be in the dragon's lair, my dear?" Clementine glanced around at the parlor. Even though not the library, there were still books tucked into small cases, lovely little sculptures of dragons, ponies, griffons, and more exotic creatures she could not identify graced tables and cabinets, the furniture was carved from a variety of woods with lustrous grains, upholstered in multicolored silk and velvet. The carpet was warm and soft under her hooves. She turned her head to look out the window at the park in front of the estate; sunlight shown on the neat lawn as the shadows of the mighty oaks that lined the park shortened as the day wore on. "My lady, I like your lair better than Deathworm's." "And why is that?" She jabbed herself again, wincing. "All he has is gold and gems. You have knowledge and beauty." "Yes. And I also have my share of gold and gems, but my bed is rather more comfortable. Well?" "Well what, my lady?" "Aren't you curious as to how I figured out you were my little booknapper?" "Did you see me one night, my lady?" "Not right away. I noticed that "The Unexpected Unicorn" had gone missing, and didn't think much of it, but then two weeks later, it was back. So I searched around and saw that "Leaving Las Pegasus" was mysteriously absent. A week later it was back and something else was gone. So I determined to stay hidden in my library until I could find my fellow bibliophile." Confusion showed in Clementine's eyes, drawing a giggle from Rubymane. "A word you don't know? It's a relief to know such a thing exists! It means a lover of books." "It sounds foreign, my lady. In Equestrian, we'd say bookworm, wouldn't we?" "Or egghead or something else inelegant, yes. The word is Prench. The ponies of Equestria borrow words, ideas, even entire philosophies from Prance, Germaneigh, and other countries." "Oh, like when Cookie makes soufflés and crêpes?" Her stomach rumbled at the thought. Rubymane nodded in approval. "Exactly. Food is one of the most common of cultural exchanges. But we digress. I believe we were discussing how I caught the nefarious booknapper." She jabbed her hoof once more. "Yes, my lady. My lady? Why do you keep doing that?" "With the quill? In due time, oh impertinent questioner of her betters. Now, I lay in wait in the library, behind the ricepaper screen, for several nights. I kept myself entertained by reading, of course. I used a nightvision spell so no light would show. And I listened. And one night, I heard something, and went to look who it was. At that moment I suddenly had the urge to write a letter to my nephew asking him to visit. It's the strangest thing. I don't even like my nephew. But there am I, scribbling away, all thoughts of catching the mystery pony vanished." She poked herself again as Clementine's mouth dropped open. "Yes, very curious. I'm usually quite focused. So I resolved to try again, and one night, I heard a noise. I peeked over my screen and I saw... I can't remember. I have a very good memory too, and at first I clearly recall having remembered, and making a plan for the morning. But I can't even remember what that plan was. At this point, I realized I was dealing with something quite unusual." Clementine couldn't help herself, she was caught up in the tale. "What happened next!? My lady!" Her eyes were wide, the whites showing all around the iris. "The next time, I determined to write everything down, which is how I finally trapped my elusive prey. I still don't quite remember what happened, but here are my notes, if you would care to read them." She gave the filly a piece of fine parchment upon which was written: 15 minutes past midnight - a noise - a filly, very small - kitchen garb - gray coat, yellow or tan mane - we have a scullion? Why don't I remember her? Clementine returned the parchment, her brow furrowed in thought. "That would be me, my lady. The filly nopony notices or thinks about, except for Cookie. And Thistlewhistle, I suppose." "The undercook? Earth ponies... yes, of course." Rubymane jabbed herself once more. "In fact, in order to engage in this conversation with you, or even think about you for any length of time, I find I must use this minor pain as a focus." She showed her hoof to Clementine and the pad was bruised and dimpled. "Oh, my lady, I'm so sorry!" Clementine looked up at her in distress. She's going through this just to talk to me? She is kind! But this is so very strange! "It's not your fault, Clementine. I can't be certain, but I believe you are under a glamour, cast by a very powerful, and very subtle mage." Clementine gasped. "Like a curse!?" Rubymane shook her head. "It's much more complicated than that. I think it's meant to protect you, not harm you, but protect you from what or who, that I cannot say. I can't see the spell, or the web of spells, myself. I can only deduce its existence through the effects I'm observing." Clementine tilted her head curiously. "To deduce means to infer something that you cannot directly observe through reasoning and indirect observation." Rubymane could almost see the gears turning in the child's head. "So, could I deduce that you aren't going to dismiss me for borrowing your books, my lady, because you're smiling and being kind to me?" "Yes, though perhaps it is only that I am very curious as to what the nature of this glamour is, not that I am so kind." "Sort of like how perhaps Deathworm is only playing a game with Prince Silverhoof and he's not really trying to help him? My lady?" She smiled enigmatically. "Us old dragons are tricky like that. You can never be sure." A thought seemed to cross her mind. "Child, I would like to take a clipping of your mane, to examine it. Perhaps if I hold something of you close to me, I can stop this infernal jabbing of my hoof." Clementie hastened to comply, removing her cap and bowing her head close to Rubymane. A silvery glow shone from the old unicorn's horn as a small pair of scissors arose from a nearby table, and quickly snipped a lock of hair from the sandy, coarse and still somewhat tangled mane. She teased them out of their kinks and knots and beheld a dozen straggly strands. Using magic, she wound them twice around her foreleg and tied them off. "There! Now let us see if this works. I am going to look at you. If I start to look away or get up, I need you to jab my hoof with the quill. Here, just one moment." She wrote on a slip of parchment and gave it to Clementine. I told Clementine to jab my hoof; don't punish her. Clementine nodded and took the proffered quill. Then she stood still while as Rubymane regarded her, taking in every small detail of her appearance. "It seems the quill will not be necessary, thank Celestia!" The unicorn shook her hoof out and kneaded it with the opposite. "I don't feel my gaze sliding off of you any more and I remember your name and our conversation so far quite clearly. Better than I recalled it a few minutes ago. I'd say the sympathetic link is effective when attempting to focus on you, but possibly only because you willingly parted with the token." She held up the knotted hair. "I'm afraid I don't understand any of that, my lady." "I wouldn't expect you to, since you've been borrowing books about adventures and romance, not about magical theory and spellcraft. We shall have to continue our conversation later though, for my unfortunate fat nephew will be arriving within the hour, thanks to you, and I must dress and prepare to receive him. But we shall have to see to your reward, shall we not? Very well." She stood. "Now, do not tell anypony about what we've said or I shall keep you in durance vile until your cuteceañera. Especially about the glamour. Do I make myself clear?" She spoke those last sentences with such authority that Clementine curtsied without thinking about it. "Yes, my lady." Rubymane concentrated her magic on the bellpull, but hesitated before pulling it. "Child, the fire in the kitchen... what happened exactly?" "It was like Cookie said, my lady. It must have been a spark." "Did you see a spark?" "No, my lady." "What were you doing when the fire broke out?" She turned and looked closely at the filly. "I was... I was just looking at the pile of pots and pans, my lady, and soaping up my brushes." "What were you thinking of while you did that?" Clementine was silent for a moment. "Come on, you won't be in trouble." "My lady, I was thinking how much easier it would be if I could just use magic like all the other unicorns. I was thinking how unfair it was. And I was... I was angry." Rubymane nodded. "Well then. Do your best to not be angry when you are around my books." "But I love books, my lady, I'd never - Oh! Do you think..." "I don't know what to think, Clementine. But I had Mr. Glass check our records, and there have been more unexplained minor accidents downstairs in the kitchen in the past six months than in the previous three years. There may be more to this glamour than just obfuscation. It has layers." She rang the pull. Mr. Glass entered, along with Cookie. He bowed and she curtsied. "Cookie, I'm afraid you will need another scullery maid." Cookie's face fell, causing Lady Rubymane to raise her hoof. "No, no, it's alright. Clementine will be working upstairs with us." Cookie's face went from despair to bewilderment. "She's a clever filly, efficient, hard working, and quite unobtrusive. Good qualities for an upstairs maid; wouldn't you agree Glass?" "Indeed, my lady. I barely know she's there as it is." The noble covered an involuntary grin with her hoof and coughed lightly. "And I shall need some water presently. But have her given a uniform and assign her to one of the other maids to learn her new duties. That purple earth pony should do nicely." "But my lady, not that she would not be an excellent maid, but we have no position open for her." Mr. Glass appeared as close to being perturbed as he could. A hair of his mane might even have been out of place. "Then she shall be my maid of... the library! Yes. Maid of the library." Mr. Glass' bushy brows rose, almost perceptibly. "Maid of the library? My lady, there is no protocol for a maid of the library." "Then we shall have to create one. Won't that be fun, Glass?" Bewilderment peeked out from behind the baffled butler's features. "As you say, my lady. It will be... fun." Rubymane turned to the poleaxed cook. "Cookie, she shall still stay with you and you will see to her wellbeing, at least until she's of age to care for herself and can move to the maid's quarters. You are as near to a mother to her as any could be, and I should not want her separations from you to be long. And I shall need you to find another scullion." Cookie blinked to clear her head, then curtsied. "As you wish, my lady, and thank you." With a last smile and a hidden wink at Clementine, Lady Rubymane resumed her seat. "Thank you. You may go about your duties. Please do send a hoofpony with the water, and I would like to see your draft for the protocols for maid of the library on my desk tomorrow morning, Glass. And I should like to be dressed to receive Nephew Goldbolt within the hour." She turned to regard the scene outside the window as the three either bowed or curtsied, and exited the room. She touched her foreleg where the lock of hair was knotted and thought of Clementine. She glanced down at it and was surprised to see that the hair was thick, luxurious and luminously golden. How interesting!