closest attention. Still, there was protocol and--
Unbidden, Pinori leaned forward and offered the cup. The Old One received it, her gnarled fingers caressing the worn ceramic, and raised it to her lips, drinking deeply.
"Someone new, Auntie?" Pinori asked, which was according to their custom, now the cup was in the proper hands. " 'mong our own vines?"
"If she were anywhere else, what care would I have for her or her doings?" the Old One snapped. "Deep in my own fief I saw her, snipping and thinning, as if she had the right and the duty of it!"
"Trimming!" Katauba stared, for that was a clear breach of the ancient agreement between themselves and the House. "How--"
"But who was it, Auntie?" Pinori interrupted ruthlessly. "One of the Family?"
"Do I know the face and name of every bland human with ties to the House?" the Old One asked peevishly, then sighed, turning the cup in brown fingers and staring down into its depths.
"Truly, child," she said, more temperately, "she appeared a stranger, with pale hair and quiet hands. It seemed to me that she had the heart of a gardener, for the vines balked and drew blood as I watched, but she made no complaint, nor handled them with aught but care. The row she worked was one I had myself marked to trim, so she has done no harm. Thus far. However, those vines are
mine
, to protect and to nourish, and I did not ask her aid. Nor do I wish for it."
"Well, then," Pinori said soothingly, " 'tis likely only some small oversight which has sent this gardener into the wrong quarter. We should speak to the House and remind them of our accord."
Katauba stirred. "It is perhaps not well to recall our presence to the House," she murmured.
The Old One inclined her head, and raised the cup in salute. "In these days and times, I agree. The vines are ours, the wine which the grapes produce is ours. We are charged with protection and nourishment. Therefore, the punishment of this intruder clearly falls to us."
"But, if we punish her, the House will surely take note of us!" Pinori objected.
"And it is possible," Katauba added, slipping the cup out of the Old One's hands "--even, as our sister says, likely--that there is honest error here, either on the side of the House or on that of the gardener, herself." She paused to sip, savoring the spicy red wine.
"Perhaps," she suggested, "our duty might extend to instruction."
"Instruction?" The Old One considered her out of port-red eyes. "And how shall we instruct her?"
"Why, we will ask our sweet sister Pinori to seek the stranger gardener out upon the morrow, whereupon she will make her known to those vines which fall within the House's honor--and warn her away from those which are in our care." Katauba extended the cup to the youngest of them all, with a smile and a lifted brow.
Sighing, Pinori took the cup, though she did not drink. "Why must it be me?" she asked, irritably.
"Because, of we three, it is you who look most like the Houselings," the Old One cackled.
"True," Katauba said briskly, seeing mutiny in the youngest's face. "And so you are less likely to cause alarm, if indeed this strange gardener is not of the House, but some mere employee who has misunderstood her orders."
"The plan our sister proposes is prudent," the Old One stated, leaning back into her bower, with a rustle and a wave of a hand. "Let it be done as she has said."
Pinori frowned, as if she might stamp her foot and allow her temper rein. After a moment, though, she only sighed again, drank, and inclined her head.
"Let it be done as my sisters suggest," she said, though more snappish than conciliatory. "Tomorrow, I shall seek out the stranger and speak with her."
*
The damned vines had a will of their own.
Seltin vos'Taber swallowed a curse as she considered her lacerated fingers. Anyone would think that the plants didn't want to be trimmed.
Sighing, Seltin took a firmer grip on her shears. Trim, was the order, and take the samples back to the lab, whereupon