Closer to the Heart by Mercedes Lackey

that’d be useful. And two, that I reckon Tuck can make all manner of useful things for your handmaidens. A wench has got a lot more places she can hide things than a man does, just cause she has all those skirts and petticoats and shifts and things.”
    â€œAnd hair ornaments, and jewelry,” added Dia, pursing her lips thoughtfully. Mags dug into his beltpouch and pulled out his new set of lockpicks, passing them over to Lord Jorthun, who looked them over with a knowledgeable eye.
    â€œThese are better than my set,” he told Mags, passing themback. “I am extremely tempted now to see if I can transplant the fellow and his keeper to my own workshops.”
    â€œIt’d be safer for them both,” Mags admitted, “But the poor man’s not right in the head. He might not take to the transplanting. I can ask, though.”
    â€œIn the meantime, just for the sake of caution, I’ll have my man see about buying out the current owner of the building his ‘shed’ adjoins, so there is no chance anyone else gets the idea of taking it over.” Jorthun smiled thinly. “I would imagine making some repairs, and offering any vacant rooms or apartments to members of the Watch at a greatly reduced rate will put paid to the notion of this Cobber Pellen or any of his crew coming around and making further trouble.”
    â€œThat it should, my Lord,” Nikolas replied, with a wry smile.
    â€œSo, now that we have disposed of business—how goes the planning of the wedding?” Jorthun said, obviously expecting
one
of them, at least, to have some sort of spluttering reaction.
    But if that was his intention, in this, he was disappointed.
    â€œThat’s all in Dia’s hands now, my Lord,” Amily said smoothly. “And Lydia’s. We’re nothing more than actors in whatever play they come up with.”
    â€œIt just seems more sensible to think of it that way,” Mags added. “Amily and I have got enough to worry about—and no relatives other than Nikolas to please. So we don’t
care
what sort of pageant is ultimately decided on.”
    â€œHmm. A sensible attitude, if a rare one,” Jorthun observed. “So many young ladies seem to create hysterics trying to have a
perfect day.”
    â€œPossibly because it is the only day in their entire lives where they are the center of attention,” Amily pointed out. “Most of the time, they are pawns to be moved about on the game-board. At least on their wedding day, while they might still be pawns, they are treated as queens.”
    â€œWhereas you have rather more power than you are sometimes comfortable with, I suspect,” Jorthun replied. At Amily’s startled look, he smiled. “No, don’t suspect me of Mindspeech. Your father was the same. The King’s Own should
never
be comfortable with the amount of power he or she can potentially wield.”
    â€œWell, to get back to the subject you
asked
about, my love, I do have some ideas,” said Dia, and began relating them. Despite Mags’ relative disinterest in such things, he had to admit that Dia’s ideas were interesting, surprisingly practical, and would not require all that much of the two purported principals.
    After a pleasant candlemark or so, Lord Jorthun excused himself—after first giving Mags carte blanche to contact him at any time—giving the three Heralds a graceful way of taking their leave. As if by magic, they found the three Companions, saddled and bridled and with three escorts attentively waiting beside them, at the front door. The three of them rode out of the front gate with Mags still feeling somewhat bemused.
    â€œDid Lor’ Jorthun mean thet?” Mags asked, falling back into somewhat less formal speech with a feeling of relief at not having to think over every single word he said. “’Bout callin’ on ’im at any time, I mean.”
    â€œOh,