238

A WIZARD IN ABSENTIA

That was a relief, but it wasn’t conclusive—if they’d caught the vagabond and the children, they might or might not have reported in by radio. On the other hand, who would think anything of a vagabond with two peasant children? Surely Siflot would think to disguise Heloise. Magnus relaxed, enough to realize how hungry he was. “Menu, please. Breakfast.”

“Yes, sir. Our resources are limited; we can only provide steak and eggs, ham and eggs, several cereals, and rolls.”

“Steak and eggs, please. And coffee.” Magnus had learned to drink that beverage on Maxima, though he still wasn’t certain he was happy about it.

A chime sounded below him. Going back down the stairs, he saw a steaming platter of eggs and brown meat on a small table, flanked by silverware.

He crossed to it in two strides and sat down in one movement. The aroma was heavenly. He picked up a fork and started work.

Twenty minutes later, he decided it was time for a reconnaissance. With a sigh, he went up the stairs, pulled on his boots—and winced; they were still damp—then asked softly, so as not to wake Lord Aran, “Are there any enemies in the vicinity?”

“Define ‘enemies.’ ”

Magnus bit his tongue; he didn’t doubt that the computer knew what the word meant. It just wanted to know which side was which. Under the circumstances, since the lords were always the home team, he decided to drop the issue. “Are there any other human beings nearby?”