Zeah sat on the step in the courtyard and sipped his tea.  It was hot and muggy and many might have preferred a cold beverage but the butler found tea soothing.  The courtyard sat towards the side rear of the house, separated from the street on the east side only by an eight-foot tall stone wall.  Though windows looked down onto it from all three stories on the other three sides, most of those rooms were not in use, so it was relatively private.  Nevertheless, the door behind him opened and young Saba stepped out.  Hopping down the steps, he sat down next to Zeah.

“Good morning, Mr. Korlann.”

“Good morning.”

The boy had a large brown glass bottle with a rubber stopper, which he pulled out with his teeth and spat onto the step.  Then he tilted the bottle back and took a great swig.

“You’ll pick that up in a minute, I trust,” said Zeah, indicating the stopper with a nod.

“Oh, yeah.  Sure.”

“What are you drinking?”

Saba held up the bottle and Zeah read the label.  Billingbow’s Sarsaparilla and Wintergreen Soda Water.

“Is it any good?”

“I love it.  Would you like a taste?”  The boy pointed the open mouth of the bottle at the man.

“Um, no, thank you.”

“Is Miss Dechantagne really going to move to Mallon?”

“Where did you hear that?” asked Zeah, looking at the boy.

“I overheard my mother talking to Yuah about it.”

“I think it best not to speculate what Miss Dechantagne might or might not do.”

“You’re afraid of her, huh?”

“Ah… afraid?  No, I’m not afraid of Miss Duh… Dechantagne.”

“Sure you are.  Don’t feel bad.  Everyone’s afraid of her.  I’m afraid of her.  I think Master Terrence is afraid of her.”

“I, um…”

“You know how you can tell that you’re afraid?”

“I’m not… um, how?”

“You only stutter when you’re nervous.”

“I duh… don’t stutter… and nuh… nervous is not the same thing as afraid.”

Saba took another swig of soda.  “Sure it is.  It’s just another word for it, like hart is just another word for horse.”

“They’re not the same thing at all.  A hart is a deer.”

“You know you shouldn’t be nervous.  It’s not like Miss Dechantagne is going fire you.”

“It’s not?”

“No.  She always says she’s going to fire somebody, but when was the last time you saw her really do it.”

“About five minutes ago,” said Zeah.

“Really?  Who’d she fire?”

“She dismissed Nora.”

“I don’t know anybody named Nora.”

“She was the girl I hired the other day.”

“Well, you see there,” said Saba, knowingly.  “She was new.  When was the last time Miss Dechantagne fired anyone that had been with the house for a while?”

“She dismissed Tilda yesterday.”

“Yeah, I miss her,” said Saba wistfully.  “So is Miss Dechantagne really going to move to Mallon?”

“Um, I think it’s best not to discuss this.  Why do you want to know?”

“Well, I was just thinking.  If she goes then I imagine that we would get to go with her.”

“Do you want to move to Mallon?” asked Zeah.

“Sure.  Who wouldn’t?”

“Um, I wouldn’t.”

“Sure you would.  It would be great.  It would be just like living in a Rikkard Banks Tatum novel.”

“Don’t all of his books involve monsters, chases, and narrow escapes from danger?”

“You bet,” the boy grinned.  “It’ll be the dog’s bullocks.”

Saba drained his bottle of Billingbow’s and stood up.

“Well, I guess I’d better get busy.  I’m supposed to wash the steam carriage.  Do you think I could drive it out of the motor shed?”

“No,” Zeah replied.  “You had best push it out.”

The boy’s grin disappeared.  He sighed and then walked across the courtyard to the motor shed.  Zeah reached down and picked up the rubber stopper that Saba had left, then stood up, stretched his back, and went up the steps and back into the house.