"Why do I have to do this?" asked Jamie for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

Remy smiled patiently at the smaller boy walking beside him. "Because I'm not doing such a good job of looking out for you. Too many fights, not enough work to feed us both, plus you got me really worried when you got sick. It's too cold on the streets for you. You need a home. You like Ferrer don't you?"

Jamie nodded. "Yes. He's patient and he doesn't yell."

"And his wife likes you."

"Yes, she's ok as well, She gives me food whenever we go there."

"And you like Phillipe."

Jamie grinned. "He's ok. He follows me around and tries to help, even though he's too small."

Remy grinned. "What, like you do with me?"

Jamie stuck his tongue out at the blond haired boy. They both took evasive action as a horse came careering towards them, with its rider desperately trying to get it back under control.

"Right. Well, Phillipe is still way too young to help his father, but you're just about big enough. And you're good with horses. You just need to grow a bit."

"Hey!"

Remy grinned and ruffled his hair. "You like them, they like you. Ferrer needs a helper, and you need a job. Preferably one that puts a roof over your head and feeds you. And no, working for Donovan is not an option. Not having you working there. I'm trying to keep you safe, not get you killed. And the Court of Miracles isn't a solution either."

He frowned, wondering once again if it might work, but he knew in his heart that it wouldn't. Even in the short time he'd been in Paris, he'd seen what the Court could do to people. Too many people went into the Court and never came back out again. Not as the same people anyway. It seemed to suck the life out of some people, leaving them broken and empty, and still without a decent home or enough food. Or, more importantly, any real hope of a better life. Granted, some seemed to come out the other side the better for the chances the Court offered, but it was still a last resort as far as Remy was concerned. He wanted something better for Jamie.

"Well, why can't you work for Ferrer?"

"He doesn't need two helpers, and besides, his wife hates me, remember. She thinks I'm a bad influence on you, and that black eye of yours isn't going to help."

Jamie rubbed his eye. "Maybe I don't like her after all."

Remy laughed. "Don't be silly. Ok, nearly there." He stopped and turned the younger boy to him, wiping a smudge off his face with his thumb. "There. Nearly presentable. Apart from the black eye anyway. Now, remember what I've told you."

Jamie nodded. "Stay out of fights. Do what I'm told. Work hard. And you'll come see me when you can."

Remy grinned. "Good boy."

Remy hugged Jamie tightly, then gave him a little push into the blacksmiths yard. He watched from the entrance as the smith checked Jamie's black eye and frowned. The man looked towards the entrance. Remy shrugged at him, and Ferrer nodded. Remy stepped backwards into the shadows, although he could still see the yard. Ferrer's wife came out and made a big fuss of the boy, taking him inside with her. Remy felt a little sad at the loss of his young companion, but satisfied that he'd found the boy a good place to stay.

-o-o-o-

Remy had watched the stables for a couple of days now, in between keeping an eye on Jamie and running errands down at the docks. Jamie was doing well, working hard, and improving with the horses. Remy wasn't doing quite as well. A couple of times he'd ended up in a minor scrap with some of Killian's boys, although he'd come out on the winning side. Money was a problem though. Fresh snow falls had frozen him to the bone and stopped him finding work for a few days, and work was still proving hard to find. None of the stables had wanted anything to do with him. The better stables needed someone to vouch for him. The lower level stables wanted a reference, and the couple of times he'd mentioned that he'd worked for Donovan had ended the conversation abruptly. He wasn't sure if that was Donovan's reputation, or that Donovan had put the word out not to employ him. He sighed and stowed his pack on a nearby roof out of sight, before strolling into the stable yard. Donovan was stood in the middle of the yard, looking over a couple of horses.

"Remy! Where have you been, boy? What do you think of these horses? Worth three livres each?"

Remy edged closer to Donovan and the horses, looking them over quickly. The man holding the reins of the pair sneered at him. Remy ignored him and concentrated on the horses.

"The bay has a weak front left leg, holds himself wrong. Worth one, maybe two, depends how he walks. The black one is a bit on the thin side, and his mane is badly trimmed. Could just be a bad clip or could be to hide a problem. Will take some work to make him look half decent. Two livres at best I'd say."

The man stared at Remy, with his mouth open in disbelief. Donovan smiled at him. "The boy is right. A little blunt perhaps, but it saves time, and time is money. I'll give you four livres for the pair, and you won't get a better deal elsewhere, unless you can provide proof of ownership, perhaps?" The man paled a little, and Donovan smiled more. "I thought not. So, four livres. We have a deal? Yes?"

The man shook the proffered hand, grumbling, and throwing murderous looks at Remy as he handed him the reins. Donovan waited until the man had left, before backhanding Remy hard across the face. Remy had known the blow was coming, but didn't avoid it, knowing from experience that ducking would only make it worse. He felt the blood trickle from his lip.

"You've been costing me money. Had to hire others to do your shifts, and Killian wanted to hire you as well. He's stopped coming round now, which might be a good thing. Too many people asking questions about the things he's up to lately, and the items he was trying to dispose of were attracting the wrong kind of attention as well. Hard to get a good price. Still, that could have earned me money. If you weren't so good with the horses, I wouldn't let you back in my stables, you know that, don't you?"

Remy avoided his eye and nodded slightly. "Sorry, Donovan."

Donovan sighed and ruffled Remy's hair. "Got fewer shifts for you, unless some of the others fail to show. Get those horses bedded down, and I'll get you some food. Hungry? I bet you are. Go on then, quick about it."

He strode off towards the kitchen area, and Remy rubbed his lip gently, breathing out slowly. Not quite a done deal, and not quite the job he wanted, but it was better than nothing.

-o-o-o-o-

Remy snuck quietly into the barracks courtyard and looked around. Athos was sparring with Stefan, a big, bearded Musketeer who, unusually, favored his left hand. Porthos was cleaning his sword. He couldn't see Aramis. He headed over to the stables.

Jasper grinned at him. "Just the man I wanted to see. Grab that saddle over there. It needs a good clean. Lord only knows what Porthos did to get it covered in that much mud."

Remy grinned and busied himself cleaning the saddle. He was so engrossed in his work, that he never noticed Athos until he sat down on a nearby barrel.

"How've you been, boy? Not seen you for a while."

Remy kept his head down. "I was busy."

Athos frowned slightly and reached a hand out to raise Remy's head by the chin. Remy tried to avoid the hand, but Athos was quicker. He shook his head at the sight of Remy's split lip and the bruise on his cheek.

"Fighting?"

Remy turned his attention back to the saddle. "No, I wasn't fighting. Was just an accident."

Athos frowned. He wasn't sure what kind of accident was likely to leave a hand sized bruise on the boy's cheek, but he could guess, and he wasn't happy about the thought.