Epilogue

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.

But a solution had been suggested to this problem, by a party who had wished to remain anonymous, and the judge had presented them with this solution as a fait accompli the next morning.

"The portion of the home that is hers already having been deeded to the creditors—most generously—by Elena Klovis, the remainder is declared confiscated," the judge had said sternly, as Madame and Delphinium stared at him with angry arrogance, and Daphne wailed. "Being as the debts are still not discharged, your creditors have agreed to refurbish the house as an inn and hire a plain cook until you, Madame, have demonstrated that you have mastered the art of producing edible food. Whereupon you will become the cook and kitchen-maid. Monsieur Rabel-let's cousin will serve as innkeeper, and you and your daughters as the inn servants until the debt is fully discharged, at which time, you may either continue to serve as servants for a wage, or go your ways."

Fleur and Blanche had been in the gallery, as had all of the creditors and indeed, nearly anyone who had a dislike for Madame and her daughters. And they really had fallen mightily; even the gowns they had been wearing had been taken from them, and they were now garbed in ugly grey linen prison smocks and caps.

Madame's nostrils had flared, as Daphne wailed still louder. "And if we refuse?" she had asked, icily.

"Then, Madame, you and your daughters will be packed off to the workhouse," the judge replied, just as icily. "And there you will remain until you die, since it is unlikely, at workhouse wages, that your debt will ever be discharged. I advise you to accept."

There really was no choice in the matter. Madame was forced to assent. And so she and her daughters had become exactly what they had forced Elena to be—unpaid servants, sleeping in the attic on whatever was deemed to worn to use in the inn, eating what was left over after all of the customers had been fed. In that, they were treated better than they themselves had treated Elena; they got two new smocks and a skirt a year, (where Elena had gotten rags), a set of sabots and underthings every year, and woolen shawls and stockings for winter. And they never starved.

But Madame and the girls soon found out that if they dared to show any hint of bad temper, Monsieur Rabellet's cousin would summon the debtors and let them know—and the judge would add another month to their "sentence," as a punishment for behaving in a fashion that would drive away customers.

Madame's fair, white hands were now as rough and work-ravaged as Elena's had ever been, with broken nails and reddened skin. Delphinium was developing quite a set of muscles from lugging pots of hot water for the overnight customers' baths. And Daphne actually had a figure that did not require winching down the ties of a corset to produce.

Of the three, Daphne seemed to actually be learning a lesson from the situation, Fleur reflected, as the girl brought them their meal. She had stopped weeping most of the time, and was beginning to show a healthy interest in one of the young farmers who frequented the place on market days. Fleur noted that he was at one of the smaller tables, and that Daphne was stopping there to "make sure he didn't need anything" far more often than she did for any other customer. And her interest seemed to be reciprocated.

"Hmm," she said, catching her sister's attention, and nodding towards the pair.

"Ah, that's the way the wind blows, does it?" said Blanche, with interest. "Well, I must say, her temper and character have improved enormously. She could do worse."

"And so could he," Fleur agreed. She and Blanche were shameless eavesdroppers on the trio, and she was actually beginning to feel some sympathy for Daphne. The girl was trying. And she seemed to have finally gotten it into her dense little skull that not only was taking things from merchants without paying for them wrong, but that perhaps what they had done to the now-vanished Elena had been cruel. Fleur had heard her telling their master as much. "And we were that mean to her, and no wonder she ran away to take service from someone as would pay her," she'd said. "Now that I know what she had to do— well, I hope she's better off, is all I can say, and good luck to her."

"No sign of improvement from the others, though," Blanche observed, as Madame's angry voice, berating her daughter for some fault, drifted out from the kitchen.

"That's their choice." Fleur shrugged. "And the way they act, if they don't take a cue from her, they'll be totting up more months onto their service until they'll both be old and grey and scrubbing floors here, while Daphne's off making herself into a proper farmer's wife."

"Ha." Blanche nodded. "It all comes down to what we make of ourselves, eh ? The Tradition or no. Who knows ? If she really continues to improve her character, maybe a Fairy Godmother will take pity on Daphne and she'll find enough gold under a cabbage in the kitchen-garden to buy her freedom and give her a little dowry."

"Stranger things have happened," said Fleur, making a note of the thought to pass on to the appropriate party. "Like—a Godmother wedding a Champion!" She held up her glass of wine.

"To happy endings, however they come about!"

Blanche clinked glasses with her. "To happy endings, indeed!"

A Q&A with Mercedes Lackey...

What does fantasy mean to you?

Fantasy for me has always gone far beyond the magic rings and castles of the classical fairy tale, although heaven knows I love the classical fairy tales! To write or enjoy fantasy requires an open mind and heart, and the ability to believe that things are not always what they seem.

Why do you think women enjoy reading fantasy?

I think it may be because, as Dorothy L. Sayers once pointed out about the mystery genre, fantasy is one of the last bastions of "moral fiction." By this she meant that in mystery—and in fantasy—good triumphs over evil, the wrongdoers get their just deserts, and all ends, if not always strictly happily, at least well. This is the definition of "moral fiction": something that shows the world, perhaps not as it is, but certainly as it could and should be. I think women are, as a whole, a lot less willing to settle for "that's just the way it is" than men are. You tend to find that the men who read fantasy are idealists, in fact.

What makes you write fantasy over any other subject?

I have greater scope in writing fantasy for my imagination than in any other genre. I can write fantasy romances, fantasy mysteries, heroic fantasy, modern-urban fantasy, historical fantasy, dark (or horror) fantasy, alternate-history fantasy, political fantasy even Western fantasy. There is virtually no genre that I could not use for a fantasy novel, and even if I haven't gotten around to it, someone surely has, because I can cite examples of every one of those books, either in my own body of work, or someone else's.

Anything you'd like to say about fantasy or writing, or writing fantasy?

When a reader closes the book with regret, you've done your job. What we all strive for is when a reader goes back to the same book again and again and finds equal pleasure in it each time they read it. That's what every reader is looking for, and every writer is working to accomplish.

And when it comes down to cases, everything written is at least in part a fantasy. Except maybe for the national budget. That's horror.

Mercedes Lackey's DAW books

The Heralds of Valdemar

Arrow of the Queen Arrow's Flight Arrow's Fall Exile's Valor Exile's Honor Take a Thief

Vows & Honor

The Oathbound

Oathbreakers

Oathblood

The Last Herald Mage Trilogy

Magic's Pawn

Magic's Promise

Magic's Price

The Mage Winds Trilogy

Winds of Fate

Winds of Change

Winds of Fury

By the Sword

The Mage Wars

Mercedes Lackey & Larry Dixon The Black Gryphon The White Gryphon The Silver Gryphon

Mercedes Lackeys DAW books

The Mage Storms Trilogy

Storm Warning

Storm Rising Storm Breaking

The Owl Mage Trilogy

Mercedes Lackey & Larry Dixon

Owlflight

Owlsight

Owlknight

Brightly Burning

Non-Valdemar Books From DAW

The Dragon-Jousters

Joust

Rediscovery (1993) by Marion Zimmer Bradley & Mercedes Lackey Edwardian Fairy Tales

The Elemental Masters

The Gates of Sleep

The Serpent's Shadow

The Black Swan

Mercedes Lackey's Baen titles

Bard's Tale

Castle of Deception by Mercedes Lackey & Josepha Sherman Fortress of Frost and Fire by Ru Emerson & Mercedes Lackey Prison of Souls by Mercedes Lackey & Mark Shepherd

Bardic Voices

Lark and the Wren

The Robin & the Kestrel

The Eagle and the Nightingales

Four and Twenty Blackbirds

Bardic Choices

A Cast of Corbies by Mercedes Lackey & Josepha Sherman The Ship Who Searched by Mercedes Lackey & Anne McCaffrey

Bedlam Bards

Bedlam's Bard (omnibus) by Ellen Guon & Mercedes Lackey Knight of Ghosts and Shadows by Ellen Guon & Mercedes Lackey

Summoned to Tourney by Ellen Guon & Mercedes Lackey Spirits White as Lightning by Mercedes Lackey & Rosemary Edgehill Beyond World's End by Mercedes Lackey & Rosemary Edgehill Mad Maudlin by Mercedes Lackey & Rosemary Edgehill

Mercedes Lackey's Baen titles

The Serrated Edge

* Born To Run by Larry Dixon & Mercedes Lackey

* Chrome Circle by Larry Dixon & Mercedes Lackey

·Wheels of Fire by Mercedes Lackey & Mark Shepherd

·When the Bough Breaks by Mercedes Lackey & Holly Lisle

* collected as THE CHROME BORNE

·collected as THE OTHERWORLD

Fire Rose

Reap the Whirlwind by C. J. Cherryh & Mercedes Lackey

Doubled Edge, Elizabethan Magic

This Scepter'd Isle by Mercedes Lackey & Roberta Gellis

Heirs of Alexandria: Alternate History

The Shadow of the Lion by Mercedes Lackey, Eric Flint & Dave Freer This Rough Magic by Mercedes Lackey, Eric Flint & Dave Freer

Wing Commander: Science Fiction

Freedom Flight by Ellen Guon & Mercedes Lackey

If I Pay Thee Not In Gold by Mercedes Lackey & Piers Anthony Mercedes Lackey's Tor titles

Halfblood Chronicles

by Mercedes Lackey & Andre Norton

The Elvenbane Elvenblood Elvenborn

The Shadow Mountain Trilogy

by Mercedes Lackey & James Mallory

The Outstretched Shadow Firebird

Diana Tregarde/Jenny Talldeer

Burning Water Children of the Night

Jinx High Sacred Ground

Mercedes Lackey's Avonova title

Tiger Burning Bright by Marion Zimmer Bradley, Andre Norton & Mercedes Lackey

Mercedes Lackey's Silhouette Books title

Counting Crows in Charmed Destinies