“It’s not like there’s a certification,” she says. She’s got her cool sunglasses on, and she’s staring out the window.
“But you’ll be done at some point?”
“I just said, there’s no programme.”
“Right.”
After another twenty minutes, I try again—“Will you have an office of your own someday?”
“Look,” she snaps, “I know that your dad can’t wait to get the thingamapigs out of his waiting area—”
“For snake’s sake, Niamh! That’s not what I was implying. I was just trying to make conversation.”
She looks suspicious. “Why?”
“Because we’re in the car together on a long drive?”
“You didn’t have to come.”
I spread my fingers out over the steering wheel in frustration. “I want to help you with the goats.”
“I thought you didn’t care about the goats,” she mutters. “I didn’tknowabout the goats. Hell’s spells, do you want my help or not?”
She glowers out the window. “Yes. I want your help.”
When we get to Watford, I park outside the gates. There are a few other cars parked out here. The Mage used to take his Jeep straight through the gates and over the drawbridge. What a dick.
“I suppose it’s a good sign that we didn’t see any goats on the road,” I say.
“Unless they’ve all fled the county.” Niamh has a medical bag slung over her shoulder. She pushes open the gates. As soon as we’re through, we see Simon and Baz, walking towards us on the Great Lawn.
Simon breaks into a smile. “Agatha!” He jogs closer. “And . . . Niamh, right?”
“Simon Snow,” Niamh says.
“Hey,” I say. What are they doing here—is Watford under attack?Maybe that’s a paranoid way to think, but you’re more likely to run into Simon and Baz during an epic battle between good and evil than you are down at the pub.
“This is Baz,” Simon says to Niamh. He points his thumb at her and looks at Baz. “This is Niamh. She’s going to take my wings off.”
Niamh frowns. “He asked me to.”
“So I’ve heard,” Baz says, reaching for her hand. “Nice to meet you.” He nods at me. “Wellbelove.”
“Baz.”
“What are you guys doing here?” Simon asks. He’s wearing a very nice collared shirt. Knit. Blue argyle. With short sleeves that hug his biceps. Is Baz shopping for him now?
“Niamh is checking on the goats,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“Research,” Baz says.
Simon lowers his eyebrows. “Ebb’s goats? Is something wrong with them?”
I glance at Niamh.
“They seem to be wandering away,” she says.
“We’re going to round them up,” I add, “and make sure they’re all right. One of the nannies is pregnant.”
