Dorin looked as if Seregil had just told him he planned to dine on horse dung. “My lord, really, it will only take a moment.”

Seregil chuckled. “Don’t worry, Dorin, you’ll get used to our little eccentricities.”

The sweet aroma of baking oatcakes greeted them as Alec and Seregil entered the kitchen. Sabriel and Vhadä were at work at one of the tables. The boy was cutting up turnips and carrots; Sabriel was mixing something in a large bowl. Glancing up, she spied them by the door and gave them a surprised smile. “Good morning. Can I help you with something?”

“Just a bite to eat,” Seregil told her, pulling a stool from under the table and sitting down across from her.

“Here?” she asked as Alec sat down.

“If you don’t mind.” Alec felt a bit uncomfortable, as if they were unexpected guests in someone else’s home.

“Why, of course not, I’ve just never heard of such a thing! Boo—Vhadä, go and fetch the new bread from the oven. It should be done by now. And that hunk of bacon from the cold room. You’ll have some tea, won’t you?”

“Yes, please,” said Alec.

“I’ll just go and fetch a proper pot.”

Seregil pointed to a stout brown-glazed teapot on the mantelpiece. “Nothing wrong with that one.”

The woman gave him a puzzled look, then took it down, spooned tea leaves into it from a canister, lifted the steaming copper kettle from its hook over the fire, and filled the pot.

“Where do you get your tea?” Seregil asked.

Sabriel set the pot on the table in front of them and pulled a knitted cozy over it to keep the heat in. “From Aurënen, now. Before, it was shipped in from Plenimar.”

“They grow tea in Plenimar?” Alec said, surprised. “I assumed they got it by way of Virésse.”

Sabriel shrugged. “All I know’s that the chests used to be marked PLENIMAR and now they’re marked AURËNEN.”

“A change for the better, I hope,” said Seregil.

Sabriel gave them a fond look. “A lot of things are these days.”

Vhadä came in with the bread and a small haunch of bacon hanging from a loop of string. “Here you are, Sabriel.” He placed the bread and bacon on the table and looked at her expectantly. “Have you shown them yet?”

“Hush, child, and mind your manners,” she warned, and set about cutting thick slices of bacon to fry.

“Shown us what?” asked Seregil.

The cook hesitated, then set the knife aside. “I don’t suppose there’s any danger in it now.” Folding her hands against her apron, she closed her eyes and the mixing bowl rose off the table by itself, then settled back again with a soft thump.

“You’re a wizard?” said Alec.