Free In the Garden of Iden by Kage Baker Page B

incipient abscessed tooth, but he wasn’t aware of it yet, so it wasn’t going to distract him from his task. He helped me in.
    “Have we far to go, or shall we arrive before nightfall?” I inquired.
    “It is not far to your father’s house, gracious Mistress. I will bring you there before moonrise.”
    “I thank you, señor.”
    He sprang up into the driver’s seat, and we rattled away. Dust billowed. We snaked along the road down out of the mountains. I tracked the landscape fearfully for bandits or other lower life forms but I found none, which was good. Nor had my mortal flown into any chest-pounding homicidal rages yet, nor was he being reckless and driving too fast. So far, okay.
    Down, then, to a plain of wheatfields, spreading away empty. A single windmill stood black against the yellow sunset. Where were the dark and crooked streets? The gibbets? The bonfire smoke full of human ashes? This was mortal land, wasn’t it?
    The sunset deepened to red, and another house appeared on the horizon. As we drew near, I saw people assembled by the front door. Some of them were mortal servants, peering in excitement at the coach. Four of them were my own kind, a man and two women standing together and one man who waited by the gate. He came forward smiling as the coach shook to a stop and I was handed down.
    “My most beloved daughter, I am overwhelmed with joy to behold you again!” he cried, opening paternal arms. I made my deepest curtsey and began:
    “Dearest and most reverend father, it is with the utmost delight—” Our eyes met, and I froze. It was the Biscayan. He blinked. His smile twisted up into his beard, just as it used to. “—that I return again to your loving care,” I concluded, and we embraced with seemly affection. I was as tall as he was. He took my arm, and we turned toward the house.
    “And how did you find the Convent of the Sisters of Perpetual Study, my child?”
    “Truly, Father, a right holy place, and the good sisters taught me so well that I am everlastingly in their debt. And in yours.” I shot him an arch glance. He just laughed, patting my arm. The servants were nodding and smiling and trying to make eye contact. I wondered if I was supposed to tip them or something.
    The Biscayan waved at them. “Well, here she is, my daughter the most chaste Doña Rosa. You have seen her. Perhaps you will go home now?” They edged out of the yard, still smiling. “Anything for some excitement in their lives,” he told me sotto voce. “And here, my child, are the others of my household. This is your duenna, Doña Marguerita Figueroa. This is my housekeeper, Señora Isabel Sánchez. This is my secretary, Señor Diego López.”
    They had been cast well. The duenna looked swarthily formidable, the housekeeper meek, and the secretary nearsighted. In reality they were a zoologist grade seven, a cultural anthropologist, and a systems technician first class.
    “Doña Rosa, we welcome you,” said the secretary. We all turned to stare at the servants, who got the hint and took off at last down the road into the evening.
    “You know, I never connected the name?” said the Biscayan. “Little Mendoza, all grown up! So welcome back to Spain. How the hell are you?”
    “Immortal,” I said. “Glad to see you again. What happened, though, that you had to send a mortal with the transport? That startled me a bit. Regular driver busy?”
    “Oh, Juan’s all right. He is the regular driver, you see. We hire a lot of mortals, it’s cheaper. Hey, everybody, I recruited this kid! Must have been, what, fifteen years ago? Small world, isn’t it?”
    “Right now, anyway,” said my duenna. “Come on in, honey, and we’ll celebrate. Three whole chickens have been killed in your honor.”
    “Plus there’s lots to brief you on,” said the housekeeper as we went in out of the night. “You’d heard the poor king of England died?”
    “Yes, I heard that.”
    “So Bloody Mary’s got the throne now,