He looked up. “What?”
“For this cruise. I’m not here in an official capacity. I mean, I told them I was planning on doing some investigating, but they didn’t think it was serious enough to send an agent, so I used my stockpiled vacation time. I haven’t taken a proper vacationin...” She shook her head. “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever taken one. Technically, I could take a few years off with pay at this point.”
“You... you’re onvacation?” Bayard’s face was incredulous. He snorted back a laugh.
“And the Gruyère incident,” she continued, her voice barely audible. “The temperature disruption, the open doors, the space heater? There was never any real danger to the cheese. That was, in fact, all me. I staged the whole thing.”
They stared at each other as the truth settled between them.
“So there really is no Culture Vulture,” Bayard said slowly.
“There never was. Just two pathetic old people pretending to be criminals so they could stay near each other.”
“We’re idiots.”
“Complete fools.”
And suddenly, impossibly, Exandra started to laugh. Not quite a happy laugh—a slightly hysterical, exhausted laugh. “Oh, gods, the stress we caused poor cheesemakers. We’re terrible people! We don’t deserve to eat any fondue this Yule.”
Bayard found himself laughing, too, the absurdity of it all hitting him now. “Would it make you feel any better to know I made a generous donation to their charity?”
“Actually, it would,” Exandra wiped a tear from her eye. “What kind of charity was it?”
”The Cheesemakers Curse Foundation,” Bayard said. “They support artisan cheesemakers who’ve tragically developed lactose intolerance after years in the trade. Apparently it’s an occupational hazard and the flatulence can be debilitating.”
“Really?” Exandra pressed her lips together.
“Really.” Bayard nodded gravely. “They have to hold their meetings downwind from the nearby villages.”
“Oh, my Lords and Ladies… I’m going to be fired for cheesepionage,” Exandra ground.
“Well, if that’s the case, we’re both going to end up in magical prison.”
“Sharing a cell, probably.”
“With a bunch of lactose intolerant former cheesemakers.”
They laughed until tears ran down their faces, until they had to sit down on a rock because they couldn’t stand anymore.
“Okay, my brave goats! Who’s ready to continue?” Carlos called out.
They looked at each other, still giggling slightly, and nodded.
BETWEEN A ROQUEFORT AND A HARD PLACE
The next section required climbing over a series of large boulders, working their way upstream through a boulder field where water rushed around, and between the rocks.
Bayard struggled a bit here—his stiff leg made the climbing awkward and more difficult. It was eerily reminiscent of the river and the gorge that he and Exandra had snuck off to when they were still in training to work for The Society.
Twice he had to stop and rest. But he kept going, his jaw set with determination.
Exandra stayed close, ready to help but forcing herself not to offer unless asked.
At one particularly difficult spot, Bayard’s cane slipped and he dropped it. He watched helplessly as it clattered down into the water below. For the moment, he was stuck, balanced precariously atop the rock.
“Here,” Exandra said, offering her hand.
He took it, and she easily pulled him up to the boulder with her considerable strength.
