“What’s this?” she cried, her eye full of two tall, ragged strangers; then she spied Aster. “Mother? You said nothing of guests—”

“I said I was gone to fetch the magician from the village, if he was still there and looked kindly on my case,” said Aster sharply. “As it happens, he did, but could do nothing for me. However, his traveling companion has skill in finding what is lost and she has consented to help.”

“Traveling—?” Again, those quick brown eyes counted Lute and Moonhawk, flashed back to the older woman’s face. “You bring us a pair of gypsies to guest?”

“Even not, gracious lady!” cried Lute. “For gypsies have the foresight to bring their houses with them, where I am so dimwitted as to have no house at all!”

“And so we ask travel-grace,” added Moonhawk, in her deep, level voice, “from charitable homes along the way."

The boy at the cauldron laughed once, a sharp-edged sound carrying more scorn than merriment. “Bested, Senna,” he called out. “Make welcome before they eat you alive.”

“Wrong also, young sir,” Lute said dulcetly. “For what person of dignity will stay in a house where welcome is not a gift?”

“As it is here,” cried Aster, bustling forward, “most sincerely! Senna! Cedar! Your manners want brushing! Bow to Lady Moonhawk, Witch of Dyan Temple, and to Master Lute the magician! Lady, Master—my eldest daughter, Senna; and—and Cedar, who is betrothed to my youngest—to Tael…” She caught her breath hard, then straightened and clapped her hands together.

“Quickly now, children! Senna, show the Lady and Master to the guesting room. Cedar, take hot water to fill the basins. Give them houserobes, Senna; and put their things to wash. I will be along in a moment with wine and a bit of cheese, to help you through till dinner…”