He gave her one of his odd, sideways looks. “You really are a most unnatural female.” Strangely, that didn’t sound as if he meant it as an insult, or even a criticism. “I like that.”
“I’m glad someone does, since that is Genevieve’s chief complaint about me,” she replied. “Look, I just don’t see any point in obfuscation when there’s no need for it, and there isn’t, here. You are afraid that people will be afraid of your wizardly power, but that doesn’t necessarily have to happen. Now, weren’t you just telling me that people found you amusing?”
“More or less,” he admitted.
“Then keep being amusing, but add a few tricks,” she told him. “You know, silly little things. Nothing enormous. And when people ask you, just say modestly, ‘Oh, I can do a few things for parties.’ Not every wizard can call down lightning, after all! And yes, I know you can — ” she said, stopping him before he could interject that, “ — but they don’t have to know!”
He blinked at her. She had come to the conclusion that he blinked while he was thinking hard, not because she had baffled him or said something that made no sense. “I was an amusing fellow to have about because I had no real power and was not a threat. I will still be an amusing fellow to have about, perhaps even more amusing with a few petty tricks in my pocket, because they will think that I still have no power.” He smiled a little. “That all I am, you might say, is anecdotes and fireworks.”
“Can you do fireworks?” she asked, curiously.
He looked offended. “Of course I can. Every wizard can. The kind with charcoal and saltpeter, and the kind with Illusions. It’s rather expected of us. The Tradition demands it.”
She had to laugh at that. “So are you going to be the bumbling wizard?”
He blinked some more. “No…I’d rather not. The absentminded one would suit me better. The one that forgets he has a frog in his pocket.”
“Perhaps not a frog,” she suggested. “Not the best guest at a party.”
“Singing bird, then.” He pondered that. “I had better make friends with some birds.”
“Cake crumbs,” she told him, out of a wealth of experience of being bored at outdoor galas and feeding a myriad of hungry songbirds with an endless stream of crumbled cakes.
“I’ll take that under advisement.” He finished his soup and looked at the next course curiously. “What in heaven’s name is that? It looks like one of those meat pies you get at taverns, only…elongated.”
“An experiment. We seem to have a superfluity of rabbits, so the cook suggested this might be nice.” The cook had suggested this variation on a beef dish, as something suitable for just two or three people; she trusted his — her — its judgment. Quite simply, it was mushroom-and-shallot paste spread over pastry, the whole then rolled around some boned pieces of rabbit.
“Forgive me if I’m a little worried about a dish that a creature who doesn’t eat has produced as an experiment.” Sebastian poked at it with his fork, dubiously, then cut off an end and tried it. His expression went from dubious to delighted. “It’s good!” he exclaimed.
She grinned, but said nothing.
It was dark by the time they were done, and one of the servants carried a candle ahead of them to light their way — which was just one of those things that reminded her that she wasn’t in an ordinary household anymore. She was usually in her own rooms by dark, and had gotten used to seeing — or not seeing — Sapphire puttering invisibly about. Seeing a floating candlestick…
“Now, how can I possibly invite people here when they’re going to see something like that?” he exclaimed, gesturing at the candle.
Well, well! Now he’s actually thinking about it!
“By making it into something people will want to see,” she pointed out. “Look, who were the folk you invited here in the first place?”
“Erm…mostly a few folk who came for the hunting,” he said. “I mean, the forest has been practically unhunted for years now. I probably have more game out here than any other noble within an easy ride of the city.”
“And I assume most of those few people are unlikely to be put off by invisible servants and floating candles?” she hazarded.
He thought about that as they passed through empty rooms and murder-corridors. “Probably not,” he said, finally. “They weren’t unnerved by the Manor itself, after all.”
“So, while they’re here, tell them you only have a few of these servants. Have everyone but a handful take off their armbands. And then act as if everything is perfectly normal.” She made a face that he couldn’t see in the dark, remembering what Eric had said about being ignored as if he wasn’t there. “I very much suspect that they’ll be pleased rather than otherwise. Oh, it will be unnerving at first, so perhaps what you should do is have a very few people here at first, young ones that will enjoy the novelty, or be impressed by the magic. I suspect once they get over floating objects, the situation will suit them down to the ground.”
“Huh. You could be right…”
“Then, once word gets around that you have this wizardly Manor with invisible servants, people will want to see it for the thrill. You’ll have more people angling for invitations than you know what to do with.” They arrived at the music room…and she turned to face him. “And before you ask me what to do then, it’s very simple. You tell people that you can only conjure up so many servants for a few days out of the month, and you’re very sorry, but until you’ve rested and gotten your power back, it probably wouldn’t be good to visit unless they are prepared to tend themselves and cook their own meals.”
“Oho.” He had to chuckle at that — but then he spotted the congregation of instruments at the other end of the music room, right by the fireplace. Unlike the times when the musicians played for dancing, they all had wooden stands with candles affixed to them in front of their chairs, and sheets of music paper on the stands.
Since she wasn’t encumbered by skirts, she was pleased to see that some of the straw mattresses from target practice had been arranged into a very comfortable-looking lounging-thing on the floor near the fire, and covered with a beautiful velvet coverlet. She happily curled up on it, and after a moment of hesitation, Sebastian followed suit, sitting down with a stiffly decorous distance between them. He seemed acutely aware of her legs, pointedly not looking at them. Fortunately for his composure, he had plenty to look at with the five instrumentalists right in front of them.
When she and Sebastian were settled, and the only sound was the crackling of the fire rather than the muffled rustling of the straw, they began.
Sebastian’s features relaxed, and his mouth began to curve into a smile. His head nodded slightly in time to the music, and it was obvious that he was not just pleased, but quite impressed.
Seeing that he was happy, she relaxed, and gave herself over to the music, as well. The time they’d had to practice together was obvious to her; she could tell they were much better, and played more as a unit, than they had when she had first started listening to them.
Sebastian closed his eyes and settled back after the third piece, no longer trying to maintain that stiff distance between them. She wasn’t the sort who closed her eyes to listen to music, but she did make herself marginally more comfortable and let her mind drift, not thinking of anything in particular. She didn’t recognize any of the pieces — they weren’t dance numbers, and it was clear to her, at least, that they were meant to be listened to, as opposed to danced to. Most of them were far too slow to dance to, anyway, and contained tempo changes and pauses that a dancer would find very annoying.