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Magic is a wonderful thing, but even it has its limits. You can tell us about the area as we go. I know le Morvan only by reputation. I‟ve never had the occasion to visit.”
    “The regional park was founded in 1970,” Madame Prost explained, “to protect the unique biodiversity of the region. It‟s a nature preserve that also celebrates the rich cultural heritage of the area. From Roman times, it‟s been a center of thermal baths. Autun was built around that time and is a wonderful example of Roman city planning. Of course, Dommartin is much smaller and much more recent, but it goes to show the depth of history in the region.”
    “Are you aware at all of the magical history of the region?” Jean asked. As they drove through the thick forest, he thought he could sense magical resonances, a sensitivity he had developed somewhat since the beginning of his partnership with Raymond. He did not expect to find another locus the way they had at Notre-Dame, if only because there should only be four, each aligned with one of the elemental powers, and with the identification of the cathedral as a locus, four had been pinpointed already.
    “No, that‟s not an area I can advise you on,” the real estate agent apologized. “I wouldn‟t even know who to ask.”
    “I would,” Raymond said. “Not by name, but if we decide we like the monastery, Jean, Adèle can probably get us in touch with some of the local wizards and perhaps even some of the other races as well. Does Autun have a Cour? Your counterpart there might be of some help as well.”
    The look on Jean‟s face suggested he doubted that statement‟s accuracy, but he held his tongue in front of the realtor. She did not need to realize there was dissension among the Cours. Raymond caught the look, however, and filed the question away for later. If establishing l‟Institut in Dommartin would create problems for Jean, he needed to know that before they committed to buying the monastery. Not that he was planning on signing papers today. They had far too many issues to address before they made that kind of decision.
    “We‟d do better to ask my colleague in Dijon or in Auxerre,” Jean said. “It has been a number of years since I‟ve had any contact with the chef de la Cour autunoise.” He rather wanted to keep it that way, though he knew it would not be possible if the monastery in Dommartin worked out as a site for l‟Institut.
    “Dijon is a two-hour drive, and Auxerre is one and a half hours away,”
    Madame Prost supplied helpfully. “Autun is only about forty-five minutes.”
    “How far away is Château-Chinon?” Raymond asked, far more concerned about the proximity of friendly wizards than friendly vampires at this point.
    Having Adèle within arm‟s reach would simplify their lives immensely.
     
    Perilous Partnership
     
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    “Oh, not far at all,” Madame Prost replied. “Perhaps ten minutes. Probably not even that, honestly, if you want the town itself. Château-Chinon-Campagne is a little farther, another two or three kilometers perhaps.”
    Raymond and Jean shared a glance and a smile. Perfect. “We have a former colleague from the Milice de Sorcellerie who works in Château-Chinon-Ville,”
    Raymond explained. “Having her close will make settling in easier, should we decide to purchase the monastery.”
    “You didn‟t say why you were interested in it,” Madame Prost probed lightly.
    “No, we didn‟t,” Jean agreed, deliberately not elaborating.
    Madame Prost seemed a little shocked by the abruptness of the answer, but she let the matter drop as she pulled off the main road onto the narrow track that led north out of Dommartin toward l‟étang de l‟Île. “The monastery is just over this hill.”
    The monastery, when it came into sight, was not large as such installations went, but in addition to the chapel, it had several buildings, all in the familiar yellow limestone of the region. The buildings were laid out in a large