In Which Morwen Makes Tea
After sending the disenchanted princess to the Mountains of Morning with a letter of introduction, Morwen asked the cats to patrol the stream regularly. They found no more transformations, but over time the stream's lullabies turned to dirges. Morwen was relieved when it eventually changed course and flowed out of earshot from her garden.
Letters arrived every few months from Princess Laura of the Dragon Roxim. The old dragon had been delighted by the arrival on his doorstep of an earnest, hard-working princess, and rewarded her generously enough that in three years she had paid off her kingdom's debt. At first the creditor witch had been inclined to dispute this, but the arrival of a dragon with the final payment settled her doubts. Laura couldn't thank Morwen enough for recommending her to Roxim, and in fact the two of them got along so well that Laura decided to stay in the mountains. She'd gotten comfortable there, she wrote, and it was good for someone in her family to maintain steady employment.
Meanwhile, the cats grew older—slowly and gracefully, as witches' cats do, but inevitably. One day, when Daystar was getting close to eleven, Jasmine didn't wake up from her favorite sunny spot. In her final days, not one of the other cats had competed with her for the window, and they all gathered around and purred when Morwen buried the body in the garden.
Just a few days later, Trouble wandered off into the forest and didn't come back.
Without thinking too hard about why she was doing it, Morwen got on her broom and flew across the Enchanted Forest to a tower that was shorter on the outside than it was on the inside. The first stars winked open in the evening sky as she landed on a soft patch of moss.
She rapped on the door with the tip of her broom, then stepped back, prepared to wait as long as necessary and probably to repeat the knock several times. To keep her mind from dwelling on grief, she began to consider what spell might be most useful to get Telemain's attention, if an ordinary knock proved insufficient.
But the door flew open after a few seconds. Morwen raised an eyebrow. Telemain's beard was as tidy as ever, but the hair on the left side of his head stood straight up, and orange drips trailed from his shirt down to his boots. "Oh, hello Morwen!" he said vaguely. "You didn't call."
She raised her other eyebrow. "Am I unwelcome?"
"No, no, of course not. But I might have been away from home, or less readily interrupted."
Morwen almost laughed at the idea of a "readily interrupted" Telemain. "I'm capable of waiting," she told him. "I even brought a book."
She'd meant to keep a brave face on, but something about waiting reminded her of why she'd come, and tears sprang to her eyes. Surely Telemain couldn't see them through her glasses, in the dusk, but maybe there was a catch in her voice, too. In any case, his distraction disappeared and he frowned at her in concern. "Come in and tell me what's wrong."
Morwen stepped through the door. Telemain took the broom from her hand and rested it in a special nook on the wall that looked particularly suitable for brooms.
"First Jasmine, and now Trouble," was all she could get out before she started crying, and Telemain pulled her close without another word.
Morwen had called Telemain on the magic mirror when Jasmine died. She'd been calm, almost matter-of-fact, and they hadn't talked for long. But losing Trouble so soon afterward was too much.
"The other cats have all accepted that he's not coming back," she sniffed into Telemain's shirt. "I heard them talking this morning. Scorn says he probably rolled in a patch of poison violets and then convinced an ogre to eat him, just to give someone a terrible case of indigestion on his way out."
She felt Telemain's deep chuckle, and it eased the painful knot in her throat. "I'm sorry, Morwen," he said. He tried to stroke her hair, but couldn't quite manage it around the bun she always wore.
She pulled back a little, wiped her cheeks, then glanced down at her robe and saw that it had acquired the same pattern of drips that Telemain wore. "Are these orange streaks anything to be concerned about?"
"Hmm? Oh, no. The spell I was designing goes through an unfortunately colorful reaction, but it washes right out." He looked down at his own clothes. "At least, it should wash right out. I haven't tested that theory yet. Er, would you like some tea?"
Morwen looked at him. "Telemain, do you have any idea how to make tea?"
"It's elementary magic."
"Show me to your kitchen," she commanded. "I will make tea. And to forestall any argument, yes, it would make me feel better to do it myself."
Telemain smiled. "I don't have a kitchen per se, but I think I can supply the necessary components for your arcane ritual."
A few minutes later, a pot of water was coming to a boil over a brazier, and Morwen was washing a strainer very thoroughly after Telemain had made some offhand reference to its last usage.
"Trouble was quite a cat," the magician commented, as he watched her work.
She blinked quickly. "I know he was never very nice to you—"
"He helped me recover from the worst spellshock I've ever suffered," Telemain pointed out. "I always felt that gave us a certain bond, even if he did leave half-eaten spiders into my pockets."
"From Trouble, that was positively a sign of affection," said Morwen, shaking her head as a few more tears trickled down her cheeks. She looked at Telemain. "Thank you."
He handed her the mugs that he'd been washing. "For what?"
"For remembering Trouble. For being 'readily interrupted' when I needed you." She looked at his face searchingly. For all that she knew him so well, sometimes he could still be inscrutable, and she wondered if he knew how he important he was to her.
"Yes, well." He cleared his throat. "You're welcome." Then he waved his hand, and a comfortable-looking sofa appeared against one wall. "We can sit down to drink our tea, if you like."
"That would be wonderful." She poured the tea, took one of the mugs, and settled onto the cushions.
Telemain shrugged off his vest before picking up the other mug. "I might as well get rid of this, so I don't sit on something important or accidentally jab you with one of the scopes."
Morwen so rarely saw Telemain without his vest—in fact, she couldn't remember the last time—that it felt strangely intimate to watch him hang it on the wall and sit beside her in his orange-stained shirt and leggings. Half of his hair was still standing up, so she reached over to smooth it down. Then she pulled the single pin out of her own hair, which released the spell keeping it up.
"I'd rather not jab you with anything either," she explained to Telemain's surprise, slipping the pin into her sleeve. Her hair fell around her shoulders, and as Telemain continued to stare at her, she wondered when he'd last seen it down. Probably that time he'd called on the mirror in the middle of the night to ask for an obscure reference, but she was pretty sure he hadn't even noticed the hour, much less anything about her physical appearance.
Right now, he was definitely noticing. She busied herself with drinking tea, and for a few minutes neither of them said anything. Then Telemain rested his arm around her shoulders. Morwen leaned against him.
"How are the, er, kittens?" he asked.
Morwen smiled. "Rambunctious. Delightful. Infuriating. Why?"
He coughed. "I can't just inquire about your kittens without having a reason?"
"They're not my kittens, they're Ivy's. And she won't let them forget it," said Morwen. "I was wondering what made you think of them at that moment."
She felt him take a deep breath, lifting her head on his chest. She thought about looking up at him, but she was so perfectly comfortable she didn't want to move. "I guess I thought you might need to get back to them soon."
"No, they'll be fine. If you're looking for an excuse to get rid of me—"
"I am not," said Telemain crossly. "Why must you always assume the worst of me?"
Morwen suppressed a laugh. "I suppose because you're adorable when you're nettled."
"Oh," he said, and they were both quiet for a while. Telemain ran his fingers through her hair, separating the strands. "You could stay the night, you know," he said softly.
She did raise her head then. Her expression must have alarmed him, because he added, "In one of the guest rooms, if you like. I added several after you pointed out that unexpected visitors are practically guaranteed in the Enchanted Forest, no matter what precautions I may take. And—"
"Telemain." Morwen touched his lips, and he stopped talking. "What if I didn't stay in a guest room?"
His blue eyes searched her hazel ones, and he smiled slowly. "Then I suppose the logical conclusion is that you would stay in my room. With me."
"I would like that," said Morwen.
"So would I," said Telemain, and he kissed her.