At the back of the room stood three ’faie women—two old and careworn, the third much younger and rather pretty—and a ya’shel boy who looked about Mika’s age. All of them bore the marks of collars around their necks.

“Your servants, my lord,” Dorin said. “This is the housekeeper, Rose.”

The eldest woman curtsied. “My lords, welcome.”

“Alda, the cook.”

The other older woman curtsied.

“And this is Willow, the chambermaid, and her son Boot.”

“Are those your true names?” asked Seregil, aghast.

For a moment no one said a word, then Rose stepped forward. “No, my lord, not for my sister and me. They were given us by our first master in Plenimar when we were first sold as girls. But we still remember the names our parents gave us.”

“What are your true names?”

“Khiria ä Mariel Ronia Ylanti, my lord,” the housekeeper replied. She gave no clan name.

“And you?” he asked the cook.

The words came awkwardly, dusty with disuse. “Sabriel ä Mariel Ronia Ylanti.”

“Sabriel and Khiria.” Seregil bowed to them, then turned his attention to the younger woman and her son. “Willow is a pretty name. Will you keep it or would you take a ’faie name?”

Willow gaped at him. “I’ve never been called anything else, my lord, and I don’t know who my mother was. I’d just as soon keep my own name, but if you could find something for my son, I’d be obliged.”

Seregil walked over to the boy and bent down to shake his hand. “What’s your favorite thing?”

The boy looked at him shyly. “I like the pond out front, my lord. I catch frogs there and fish sometimes, when I’m free to play.”

“It’s a special place for you, somewhere you’ve been happy.”

The boy nodded.

“Well, now you can play there anytime you like. In our language, vhadä means ‘spring’ or ‘pool.’ What do you think of that?”

“Vhadä?” The boy grinned, showing off a missing front tooth. “It’s lots better than Boot!”

“Do you approve, Mistress Willow?”

“I like it, my lord.”

“Then Vhadä of Kouros you are, son of Willow of Kouros.” He turned to the others. “None of you is a slave. Please consider this your clan house, if you wish to stay, and that of any other ’faie or ya’shel who comes here. My hope is that you will live here in ease and dignity.”

“Ease!” Sabriel scoffed, then gave him a fond smile. “What would I do with myself without my kitchen?”

“And someone has to see to the housekeeping,” said Khiria.

“All right, then, but think of it as doing for your family. My name is Seregil í Korit and this is my talímenios, Alec í Amasa.”

“Are you both from Aurënen, Baron Seregil eee—um—?” Vhadä stopped, brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle out the rest.

“Just me, but Alec has been there,” Seregil told him. “We’ll tell you tales of dragons and pories sometime if you’re very good.”