I went anyway. One hundred marks gold can shout down the watchman any time.
The inside reminded me of a haunted castle. There were cobwebs everywhere. Amiranda and I, after shedding our escort, were the only people tracking the shadowed halls. "Cheerful little bungalow. Where is everybody?"
"The Stormwarden took most of the household with her."
"But she left her secretary behind?"
"Yes."
Which told me there was some truth in the things I'd heard about the Stormwarden's husband and son, both named Karl. Put charitably, they needed a shepherd.
At first glance Willa Dount looked like a woman who could keep them in line. Her eyes could chill beer, and she had the charm of a stone. I knew a little about her from whispers in the shadows and alleys. She arranged dirty deeds done for the Stormwarden.
She was about five feet two, early forties, chunky without being fat. Her gray eyes matched her hair. She dressed, shall we say, sensibly. She smiled about twice as often as the Man in the Moon, and then without sincerity.
Amiranda said, "Mr. Garrett, Domina."
The woman looked at me like I was either a potentially contagious disease or an especially curious specimen in the zoo. One of the uglier ones, like a thunder lizard.
There are times when I feel like I belong to one of the dying breeds.
"Thank you, Amiranda. Have a seat, Mr. Garrett." The "mister" left her jaws aching. She wasn't used to being nice to people like me.
I sat. So did she. Amiranda hovered.
"That will be all, Amiranda."
"Domina—"
"That will be all."
Amiranda left, furious and hurt. I scanned the clutter on the secretary's desk while she glared the girl from the room.
"What do you think of our Amiranda, Mr. Garrett?" Again she got a jaw ache.