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He gave her a short, elegant bow that Mara hadn't seen since the eighteen hundreds. "Augustus Valentine Vance, at your service."
"That's quite a mouthful."
His smile was charming. "My father had a thing for the Roman emperors, and my mother was one of the Irish Greatrakes, so I got both emperor and sorcerer in my name. Most people just call me Augustus. And you are?"
Never tell a sorcerer your name for he's bound to use it for nefarious purposes, her mother's voice reminded her.
After feeling his pain and the gaping hole inside of him, Mara figured she had more to use against him than he could possibly have on her.
"Mara Corvo," she replied.
"Mara," Augustus repeated slowly. It sounded different coming out of his mouth, his accent rolling the R. She didn't like it, and neither did she like the danger on her spine that had sat there all week.
Most people trusted their gut, but Mara found hers too unreliable, so she trusted her spine instead, and it had never, ever lied to her.
"May we talk like adults, Mara? I'd like to know what's going on without being attacked by your feral tom." Augustus and Athanasius glared at each other and would've kept going, so Mara intervened.
"I'd also like to know a few things," she said, and then because hospitality demanded it of her, she added, "Would you like some tea?"
"Thank you, although something plain. I don't know if I could handle another cup of whatever you dosed me with last time." Augustus gave Athanasius a smug smile of triumph before sitting down at the counter.
"I have a particularly nice Earl Grey. You like bergamot, don't you?" she asked, remembering the aroma of the tea she'd first brewed him.
"Earl Grey would be perfect," Augustus said.
"Don't make him too comfortable, Mara. Sorcerers are freeloaders. Everyone knows that. And he's Welsh to boot, which means he'll be twice the trouble," Athanasius hissed.
"I'm English, not Welsh despite the traces in my accent, thanks to going to school there. Is your cat always this racist?" Augustus asked her as she placed a cup in front of him.
"My family has a complicated history with sorcerers," Mara replied carefully.
"Well, we are complicated beings. I can imagine saints' lives are just as bad. While we are talking about saints, what is this place, and what miracles are you peddling?"
Mara poured his tea while considering what to tell him and then poured her own. "This place is as you see it. It's a teashop."
"I've been to many teashops over the years, and whatever you gave me the other day not only cured my hangover, a miracle in itself, but Ifeeldifferent. I need to know what you put in it," Augustus said. He smelled the tea in his cup before taking a careful sip.
"I don't know what I put in it. It doesn't work that way."
"You don't have recipes?"
"No. Every cup is different."
"Why? I don't understand."
Athanasius bumped his head angrily against Mara's arm. "Don't tell him any more! He's nosey, and I don't trust him."
"Why not? I've done nothing to you. I'm not trying to cause harm, only understand."
"A sorcerer nevermeansto cause harm, and yet, that's all they do! You know better than this, Mara. Kick the bastard out," Athanasius said. Mara picked the cat up, placed him in the back of the shop, and closed the door.
"I'm sorry about him."
"He's really your grandfather?"
"Yes. He was turned into a cat by a sorcerer."
"And that's the reason your family hates sorcerers?" Augustus frowned.
