Cat drew up behind the burro. "What is it?" she asked.

 

"You should have stayed with the burro. It could be very dangerous," Giogi chided.

 

"I am with the burro," Cat pointed out. If it's dangerous, why don't we leave?" she asked.

 

"That was Steele. He's my family. I have to help him."

 

"But if you don't come back, I'll never get out of here. I'll die down here," Cat said. Her lower lip quivered.

 

What she said, only without the dramatic touches, Olive thought.

 

"If Steele and I don't come back, my Cousin Freffie will come down looking for us. If you wait in the crypt for him, he'll let you out."

 

Cat frowned with displeasure. Olive thought, She doesn't want to take a chance on Freffie. He might not fall for her story as easily as Giogi did.

 

"I'm not leaving you," Cat insisted.

 

Giogi sighed with defeat. "Then you'd better stay behind me," he stated, holding an authoritative finger up to her nose. He turned about and crept down the passage.

 

The corridor turned, and there Giogi halted, peering around the edge. Cat stopped behind him and peeked out from behind his back.

 

The passage opened into a larger chamber ten feet farther down. Inside the room, a tangle of white-horned, black-scaled creatures smaller than halflings jumped up and down on a massive mahogany tabletop. The monsters wore nothing but raggedy red shifts with belts of rope and dagger sheaths.

 

The table rocked on the splintered stumps that had once been its legs, and on a prone human body. Protruding from beneath the table were Steele's head and shoulders; the rest of him was pinned by the tabletop and the weight of the creatures swarming on top of it. A moan escaped Steele's lips and his head lolled to one side. From Steele's stillness and closed eyes, though, Giogi guessed his cousin was mercifully unconscious.

 

"Kobolds," Cat said with scorn. "Just a few stupid kobolds."

 

Giogi counted at least twenty, which ranked slightly higher than a few, in his estimation, but he kept his growing sense of alarm in check. He could hardly convince Cat that he could protect her from her master, he realized, if he cringed from a battle with kobolds.

 

"Right. You wait here," he ordered. "And I mean right here." Having laid down the law, Giogi plunged into the room, foil drawn in his right hand, finder's stone raised high in his left, shouting an inarticulate battle cry.

 

"What does he think he's doing?" Cat muttered.

 

Proving himself, obviously, Olive thought.

 

"Idiot," Cat said, pulling something out of one of her robe pockets. As Cat dangled it in front of her, Olive got a closer look at it: a finger bone. Cat began chanting softly. Motes of light began to sparkle about the bone.

 

The burro pulled back quickly. Don't want to get in the way of a spell that involves anyone's finger bone, Olive decided.

 

Oblivious to the magic being cast behind him, Giogi rushed to his cousin's side. The kobolds, alarmed by the sudden loud intrusion and the finder's stone light, scattered before him. Their surprise gave way to rage, however, when they realized they were beset with only a single foe armed with nothing but an oversized skewer. With cruel smiles on their muzzles, the kobolds drew sharp daggers, which glittered in the light of Giogi's stone. The beasts began encroaching on him in groups of three or four, snarling like dogs set to bait a bull.

 

Assuming a combat stance, Giogi pivoted about his left foot, lunging with his foil in the direction of any kobold who came within range.

 

Back in the corridor, Cat ceased her chanting and the bone she held crumbled to dust. Suddenly, the kobolds surrounding Giogi fell back in terror. Impressed with the effect his prowess seemed to have had on the creatures. Giogi jabbed his foil a few times in their direction to test their reaction. The kobolds cowered like whipped dogs.

 

The nobleman didn't have the heart to skewer any of them. Keeping a wary eye on the little monsters, he bent over to examine his cousin. Steele's breathing was shallow and his face pale.

 

Cat padded into the room, smiling with pleasure at the effect her scare spell had on them. The creatures trembled at her gaze. Olive stood watching from the shadows near the room's entrance. According to common adventurer lore, pack animals were seen as a delicacy among kobolds and other underground races. She didn't want to take the chance that the sight of dinner on the hoof would prick up the monsters' courage.

 

"I thought I told you to stay put," Giogi whispered to the mage.

 

"They won't hurt me with you to protect me," Cat insisted. When she looked down at Steele, she gasped softly. "This is your cousin?" she asked.

 

"Yes. Why?" Giogi asked.

 

"Nothing," Cat said, shaking her head.

 

"Well, now that you're here, I suppose you can help," Giogi said with a sigh. "Take these," he ordered, handing Cat his foil and the finder's stone so he could use both hands to lift the table off Steele. He strained under the weight, unable to shift the massive piece of furniture.

 

"How did they move this thing on top of him in the first place?" Giogi gasped, sweat beading on his forehead.

 

"Look up," Cat suggested, holding the finder's stone over her head so he could get a better look. A great length of rope ran from the table to a pulley mounted in the ceiling twenty feet above, to a second pulley at the edge of the room, and finally to a spool controlled by a winch.

 

"Keep an eye on them," he ordered Cat. He crossed the room to examine the winch. Whimpering kobolds backed away from him. It took him a minute to find and operate the toggle that engaged the spool's gears. He cranked the rope taut, then began lifting the great table off the floor. Even with the ingenious machine, it was hard work. Sweat trickled down the sides of Giogi's face by the time he'd raised the table a few inches.

 

"That should be enough," Cat said, peering under the table at Steele's body.

 

Giogi returned to her side and slid Steele clear of the crushing weight. "I wonder how these little monsters managed to get this table in here," Giogi said aloud. "I think it used to be in the anteroom beneath the crypt."

 

"No doubt they bribed something bigger to do it for them," Cat guessed. "So, unless you want to meet whatever that thing is, I suggest we leave now."

 

"Good idea," Giogi agreed. "Just as soon as Steele recovers. I need to fetch a healing potion from Birdie's pack."

 

Cat placed a slender hand on Giogi's sleeve. In a soft but urgent voice she said, "If you bring him around now, he'll see me down here. Didn't you say he'll think I'm the thief?"

 

Giogi nodded. "Yes. He'll make a tremendous fuss, too. Steele can be quite vicious when he has his heart set on something, as he does on the spur. I'll have to carry him."

 

"But that will slow us down awfully," Cat argued. "Why don't you load him on the burro and wait until we're back out in the graveyard before you use your potion?"

 

Oh, no, you don't, Olive thought from her hiding place in the shadows.

 

"Birdie's got a full load, and even if I unpacked her, Steele would weigh too much for her."

 

Cat gave an annoyed sniff. "I might be able to manage a spell to handle him," she offered.

 

Handing Giogi his weapon and the finder's stone, she drew a vial of silver liquid and unstoppered it. Murmuring a chant, she tilted the vial so a drop of the liquid fell from it. Just before it reached the ground, the droplet spread out into a shimmering disk, rose three feet, and hovered there. "We can lay him on that," Cat said.

 

"Are you sure it will hold him?" Giogi asked.

 

"Hurry," Cat whispered, putting away the vial, "before the kobolds begin to lose their fear of you."

 

Even before Giogi looked back at the little monsters cowering in the cavern, some of them had begun making muttering, discontented sounds. He lifted Steel up and laid him on the disk. It held the wounded man off the ground without sinking. Cat headed slowly for the doorway. The disk and its cargo followed her.

 

Giogi followed, too, walking backward, his weapon at the ready. If the kobolds attacked en masse, he was sure he would not be able to hold them off.

 

Suddenly, one of the grimy creatures stepped from around the table and began shouting angrily. Its weapon was sheathed, but its tone was hostile. Cat stopped by the entrance and turned around. The disk hovered beside her. She listened with some interest to what the creature had to say.

 

Giogi backed into the mage. "Do you know what he's gibbering?" he asked in a whisper.

 

"She says," Cat explained, "that it's not fair. Your cousin captured and tortured her, but she hasn't had her chance to give as well as she got."

 

Aghast, Giogi asked, "Why would Steele do such a thing?"

 

Cat made a series of hissing and growling noises, which Giogi could not begin to comprehend. The belligerent kobold answered in kind.

 

"To find out about the spur and the thief," Cat explained. "She convinced him to follow her into this booby trap."

 

"Can you tell her I will take him away so he can't hurt any of them again?"

 

Cat spoke again in the tongue the kobolds understood. The lead kobold growled and chittered some more, and Cat snarled back at it. The gaze of both, human woman and kobold female, locked onto one another with a long, menacing glare.

 

After a minute, the staring contest ended. The kobold looked down, spat on the ground in Cat's direction, and ran off into the darkness. The other kobolds followed.

 

"She would have preferred that you left him here. I think you spoiled their fun," Cat said with a wry smile.

 

Giogi shuddered. "Let's get out of here."

 

When they'd rejoined Olive, Giogi pulled a blanket out of the burro's saddlebags and covered his cousin's unconscious body. Then the party began carefully retracing its steps using Giogi's map and the numbers painted on the walls.

 

Olive plodded beside Cat's magic disk and took advantage of the time to study the unconscious Steele. He had the Wvvernspur face, all right. Considering Steele's sadistic streak, which Cat had just revealed to them, he seemed even more likely to be Jade's murderer. Unfortunately, while the murderer had looked far younger than Nameless, he had also looked somewhat older than Steele. Steele wasn't any older than Giogi. Besides, Steele had a mole by the right side of his mouth, which Olive was certain the murderer had not possessed.

 

Of course, that left the possibility that Steele might have been disguised. It was hard to imagine, though, that a young man foolish enough to walk into a kobold ambush was really a powerful mage. Ruling out Steele left the halfling with Frefford and Drone, and any other male relatives Giogi might have who he hadn't yet mentioned.

 

Plodding along behind Giogi and Cat, Olive hadn't paid much attention to their progress. They'd crossed or turned at six intersections when Giogi looked up from his map with a puzzled expression. "We can't have come this far already," he said, reaching out to touch the numbers on the wall. His fingers came back with paint on them. "Odd. This should have dried by now."

 

From one of her robe pockets Cat drew out her own crudely drawn map.

 

A sinister giggling echoed around them.

 

"The kobolds," Cat whispered with alarm. "They've tricked us with false markings."

 

Giogi held the finder's stone up high to see if he could catch a glimpse of the monsters. The light sprang out down one corridor of the intersection, but left the other three in the dark. Giogi spied no kobolds, but he did spot a piece of paper on the floor. He led them toward it and picked it up.

 

"This is from your cheese sandwich," he said. "I can find our way from here." He rolled up his map and slipped it back in one of the burro's packs. Remembering what Samtavan Sudacar had told him about the finder's stone, the nobleman followed its light with confidence. Whichever way it shone the brightest, he turned.

 

"Are you sure you're headed in the right direction?" the mage asked uncertainly.

 

Giogi nodded with a sly grin.

 

Olive, aware of the finder's stone's powers, thought, The boy's smarter'n he looks, girl. Take his word for it.

 

Giogi's party wasn't too far from the stairs to the crypt when a huge shadow blocked the corridor ahead.

 

"Bother!" Cat growled. "Not him again."

 

"What is it?" Giogi asked nervously, trying to make out the great shape's identity by squinting.

 

"Bugbear."

 

"Right," Giogi said with a gulp. Maybe if I charge with a veil, he thought, I can send it running, as I did with the kobolds. He raised his foil and took a deep breath.

 

Cat put her hand on Giogi's sleeve again. "Let me handle this," she said. She pulled out Giogi's hip flask—which she had never returned—and unstoppered it. With two fingers on her tongue, she gave a shrill whistle and held up the flask.

 

The bugbear looked up at the newcomers, then came lumbering down the corridor at them.

 

Giogi froze with fear, and the burro tried to press her heavily loaded bulk flat against the wall. If she has a death wish, Olive thought, I wish she'd leave us out of it.

 

The halfling couldn't tell for sure which smelled worse, the bugbear's matted red fur or the lice-ridden wool sweater it wore. Its fangs were a dull yellow, but its eyes shone bright red. It stood much taller than Giogi. Giogi grabbed at Cat's arm to pull her behind him, but she evaded his grasp and walked right up to the bugbear.

 

"Wine?" the mage offered with a smile. "More wine?"

 

The bugbear snatched the flask from Cat's hand and poured its contents down its throat.

 

Cat stepped back.

 

"That's not wine," Giogi whispered. "It's straight Rivengut."

 

"I know, but he doesn't. In another moment, he won't care," Cat replied, smiling.

 

The bugbear roared once, wobbled, and passed out.

 

"See?" the mage asked. She stepped over the monster and continued down the corridor with the disk and Steele floating after her.

 

Giogi and Olive hurried to catch up.

 

"I bribed him a few hours ago with a skin of wine," Cat explained.

 

They reached the anteroom and slowly climbed the stairs back to the crypt. Olive felt her stomach rumbling. She thought longingly, too, of the Rivengut that Cat had given the bugbear.

 

When they reached the top of the rough stairs, Giogi peered into the crypt, but the guardian was silent.

 

Giogi crept across the crypt without a word. Olive needed no warning to step as softly as she could, but Cat couldn't leave well enough alone.

 

"So where's the guardian?" the mage asked as they waited at the crypt door for Giogi to pull out his key.

 

"She's here," Giogi muttered as he inserted his key in the door and unlocked it. "Please, don't disturb her."

 

"Giogioni" the guardian's voice whispered. "Not long now, my Giogioni."

 

Cat whirled around and saw the huge wyvern shadow on the far wall. "Mystra's mysteries!" she whispered excitedly. "There is a guardian."

 

Giogi flung the door open and smacked Olive through. The burro needed no further encouragement. She clomped up the stairs.

 

"What does she mean?" Cat asked. "Not long until what?"

 

"Don't ask, please," Giogi whispered, tugging on the mage's arm to pull her through the doorway with him. As soon as the disk floated through, too, he slammed the door shut and relocked it.

 

"Why shouldn't I ask what she meant?" Cat demanded.

 

Giogi closed his eyes. "Because I don't want to know," he whispered.

 

They trudged up the last four flights of stairs. Giogi hopped hard on the tenth step from the top, and the secret door slid open. He ushered them through the mausoleum and out into the graveyard beyond.

 

The noon sky was a cold steel gray laced with low clouds, but the trio blinked in the open air as if they had been prisoners exposed to full sunshine for the first time in months.

 

Giogi reached into one of the burro's packs and pulled out a vial of healing potion. As carefully as he could, he poured it down Steele's throat. His cousin stirred and sighed, but remained unconscious.

 

"That's the best I can do," Giogi said. "We'll have to get him to a cleric. How much longer can you carry him like this?" he asked Cat.

 

"As long as you need me to," the mage replied with a gentle smile.

 

"Thank you. For everything," Giogi said.

 

What about me? Olive thought. I've pulled more than my share of the weight, too, you know.

 

As if reading Olive's thoughts, Giogi scratched between the burro's ears and said, "We'll be home soon, Birdie. You'll get your lunch then, and with any luck we'll get an explanation from Unce Drone before teatime."

 

Yes, Olive thought. Uncle Drone's one mage I want to meet.

 

Their party hadn't gone halfway down the graveyard hill when a man wrapped in a green cloak came rushing up to meet them. He was calling out Giogi's name. As he approached, Olive realized he was another Wyvernspur. He had the same face as Steele, Nameless, and Jade's murderer. Good grief, Olive thought, how do Wyvernspurs tell one another apart?

 

Now, that has the makings of a good joke, the halfling mused. She studied the newcomer. He didn't have a mole like Steele, but he was just as young. His eyes weren't the right shade. Jade's murderer had ice-blue eyes, like Nameless's eyes. The eyes of the man before them now were definitely hazel.

 

Beside her Olive felt Cat start for a moment and gasp softly. Funny, the halfling thought, that's the same reaction she had when she got a good look at Steele. I wonder why.

 

"It's just my Cousin Frefford," Giogi explained. "Let me do the talking."

 

Cat relaxed instantly.

 

So, this is Frefford, Olive thought. Well, he's not the murderer. That leaves me with Uncle Drone.

 

"Good morning, Freffie," Giogi greeted his kinsman when they stood face to face.

 

"Good morning, Giogi. What happened to Steele?" Frefford asked.

 

Giogi sighed with exasperation. "He went in without me. I found him under a kobold trap. I thought I'd better get him back before exploring further. This young woman was in the graveyard. She offered to give me a hand with him. He'll be all right, I think. Freffie, how's Gaylyn?"

 

"She's fine," Freffie replied. "Mother and daughter are both fine." His grim tone, however, did not match his good news.

 

Giogi broke into a grin. "Congratulations' I'm so happy for you. But shouldn't you be with them?" Frefford's hard expression finally registered with Giogi. "Freffie, what's wrong?"

 

"Aunt Dorath sent me to fetch you and Steele," Frefford explained. He took a deep breath and put a comforting hand on Giogi's shoulder. "It's Uncle Drone," he said. "Aunt Dorath said he went to his laboratory to cast some awful spell. We looked everywhere for him, but he's disappeared. On the floor of his lab we found," Frefford's voice broke. He swallowed and continued. "All we found were his robes, his hat, and a pile of ash. Uncle Drone is dead, Giogi."

 

9

 

Drone's Last Message

 

Giogi felt as if he'd been pole-axed. The color drained from his face. He did not reply to Frefford's news at once, but stood looking out at the lake in the distance. Wind whipped his hair about his face, but he seemed not to notice.

 

"Giogi, are you all right?" Frefford asked, squeezing his cousin's shoulder gently.

 

"No," Giogi said. "There has to be some mistake. He can't be dead."

 

"I'm afraid it isn't a mistake. I'm sorry, Giogi. We all cared for him very much," Frefford said. "Come on, let's get off this cold hill," he suggested, pulling on his stunned cousin's arm, leading him down the hill.

 

Olive and Cat followed, with the disk carrying Steele trailing behind them. Frefford's and Giogi's cloaks whipped out behind them in a wind that swept up the hill. Olive glanced sideways at the mage and was surprised to see she wasn't shivering with only her satin robes to protect her from the weather. Cat was deep in thought.

 

I'll bet she's weighing her chances with Giogi without his Uncle Drone to protect her from her master, Olive thought.

 

What are the chances, she wondered, that Drone killed Jade and retribution caught up with him the very next morning? Olive shook her head. It hadn't seemed very likely that the old man Giogi had described as sweet and gentle would be Jade's murderer. Now I won't be able to identify Drone for sure, Olive realized, since he's been turned to a pile of ash.

 

A pile of ash—like Jade! Did Drone meet his fate at the same hands? Was the murdering Wyvernspur running around killing all of his kin? Olive trotted closer to Giogi and pricked up her ears to eavesdrop on the two men's conversation.

 

"How could this have happened?" Giogi asked, rubbing tears from his cheeks.

 

"We think he used a gate spell to bring in something dangerous and evil, then lost control of it, and the thing killed him"

 

"But he hated gating things," Giogi protested. "That spell always ages him horribly. Why would he do a thing like that?"

 

"To help him find the spur," the Wyvernspur lord explained. "You see, after the baby was born, Gaylyn and Aunt Dorath both wanted me to lend a hand in the crypt. Gaylyn was worried for you, and Aunt Dorath, of course, is frantic to have the spur returned. Uncle Drone said that there was no sense wasting my time, because once you got past the guardian, you'd be fine, and the thief and the spur weren't in the catacombs anyway."

 

"Oh," Giogi murmured listlessly. He thought that if he hadn't been wasting his time saving Steele's miserable hide, he might have been with Uncle Drone.

 

"Oh? Is that all you can say?" Frefford asked. "Giogi, did you know about that?" he asked, suspicious.

 

"Uncle Drone told me last night," the noble admitted, "but lie wouldn't tell me why he misled us all. He said I was supposed to go down to keep up the charade, and tell him later everything that happened."

 

"Well, when Uncle Drone told us this morning," Freflord said, "he claimed it was some sort of ruse to see what Steele would do. Aunt Dorath hit the ceiling. She demanded Uncle Drone return the spur. Uncle Drone swore he didn't have it and didn't know where it was. Aunt Dorath said he had darn well better find out. Uncle Drone said he darn well would. Then he went stomping up to his lab with orders that he was not to be disturbed—that it would be dangerous to interrupt him."

 

Frefford took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then continued his grim tale. "When he didn't come down for morning tea, Aunt Dorath sent me after him. Both doors to his lab were locked and bolted. Aunt Dorath insisted I force one of them. It looked like there'd been a fight when we got inside. Papers were scattered about. Furniture was overturned. Then we found the ashes beneath his robes and hat."

 

Frefford's word hung on the cold air with the vapor of his breath. Then he asked his cousin, "Giogi, did you talk to the guardian? Did she say anything?"

 

"Freffie, I'd really rather not talk about her right now," Giogi replied.

 

Frefford put his hand on his cousin's shoulder again. "Giogi, it could be important," the Wyvernspur lord insisted, giving Giogi's shoulder a squeeze. "You know you're the only one she communicates with."

 

Giogi kicked at a rock on the path. The guardian spoke to only one member of each generation of Wyvernspurs. Giogi wished she would have picked someone else—someone like Steele. Steele didn't believe in her. He had teased Giogi about her since they were children, when Giogi had first admitted hearing her voice.

 

Frefford believed, though. And he was right, it could be important. Giogi said, "I asked her why she didn't stop the thief, and she said that she's supposed to let Wyvernspurs pass unslain. I asked her who had taken the spur, and she said she couldn't tell—that we're all alike—except me."

 

"Nothing about the curse?" Frefford asked.

 

"Freffie, that's just superstition," Giogi said.

 

"Aunt Dorath doesn't seem to think so," Frefford said softly "Maybe she's right. Uncle Drone and Steele both risked their lives because of it, and Uncle Drone—" Frefford broke off his sentence. There was no need to say it again.

 

They reached the bottom of the hill and stepped out onto the road, where Frefford's carriage waited. A wedding gift from Gaylyn's father, the carriage's gilded surface still sparkled, even in the gray light. Giogi and Frefford transferred Steele from Cat's magical disk to the carriage's back seat.

 

"Steele must see a healing cleric right away," Frefford said, "but I can drive you into town, at least."

 

Giogi excused himself, using Birdie as an excuse. Cat explained she had business with Giogi.

 

"Stop by later and see the baby," Frefford invited as he climbed into the carriage, beside his wounded cousin. Steele moaned softly in his sleep.

 

"Thanks. I will," Giogi promised.

 

Frefford signaled his driver, who clucked the horses into motion. As the carriage rattled down the road, Giogi felt a sense of relief. He didn't want to be around when Steele fully recovered and found out Uncle Drone had deceived them. Frefford could handle Steele's rage far better than Giogi could.

 

"Perhaps I'd better leave," Cat suggested, "now that your uncle is no longer here to aid you."

 

Good idea, Olive thought, nodding her burro head in agreement.

 

"No," Giogi said. "Uncle Drone's death doesn't change anything. You're still in danger; you must stay with me. After all, if the guardian let you pass, you must be a Wvvernspur, and we Wyvernspurs look out for one another."

 

Cat bowed her head. "Very well. I accept your kind offer, Master Giogioni."

 

"Wonderful." Giogi smiled at Cat, feeling excessively pleased with himself. "Gracious Tymora. I never even noticed. You haven't a cloak. Here, you'd better wear mine. I insist," the noble said, ignoring the mage's protests as lie wrapped her in his own cloak.

 

Humans are such fools, Olive noted, especially human men. All this chivalry nonsense and family duty could get a person killed. Like Uncle Drone.

 

"Come along, Birdie," Giogi chided, giving the burro a tug on the lead rope. "Stop daydreaming. We want to get home before the weather turns ugly. Ugh. Make that uglier."

 

Olive looked up. The clouds overhead had gone from steel gray to black. Olive felt the first sharp, cold needles of sleet pierce through her fur. She began trotting alongside the two humans as they hurried down the road toward Giogi's home.

 

The traffic in Immersea was lighter than it had been earlier that morning. A few grimy urchins chased one another through the streets, but the foresters had returned to the forest, the field hands to the fields, and the fishermen to their beds. Servants were busy eating their noonday meals.

 

By the time Giogi's party reached his townhouse gate, the drizzling sleet became a heavy freezing rain, which hid the townhouse behind a curtain of water. The nobleman, mage, and burro dashed through the garden and hustled into the carriage house. Thev all stood shaking water and ice from their hair, clothes, and fur for a minute.

 

"Just as soon as I get Birdie settled, we'll have our lunch," Giogi promised Cat as he lit the lantern by the door.

 

"Haven't you got a servant to take care of that?" Cat asked.

 

Giogi nodded. "Yes, Thomas usually handles it, but I like to look after them, too. I like animals," he explained.

 

Cat climbed into the parked buggy and sank into the cushioned seat with a sigh.

 

Giogi unloaded all the equipment from tlie burro's back and led the beast back into her stall. He unclipped the lead rope but left the halter on. He rubbed her dry with an old blanket and brushed the worst of the catacomb dust and cobwebs from her hide and the mud from her little feet. Olive submitted to the grooming philosophically. After all, she thought, how many halflings get their feet washed by Cormyte nobles?

 

"Some fresh water, more grain, and hay." Giogi pointed out all the provisions he'd brought in for the burro. "You should try the hay, Birdie. It's very good. Just ask Daisyeye."

 

Daisyeye can have my share, Olive thought.

 

After shutting the burro in, Giogi took a few moments to stroke the chestnut mare. Finally he picked up the picnic basket and turned to Cat. "Shall we go?"

 

Cat held out her hand. Hastily Giogi transferred the basket to his left hand to help Cat down with his right. The mage leaned on him heavily as she dismounted and landed very near him, so that her forehead brushed against his chin.

 

"Excuse me," Cat whispered. "It's just that I'm so tired. I was afraid to sleep in that awful place."

 

Giogi stood, momentarily stunned. A feeling came over him even more odd than the one he'd felt offering Cat his liquor flask. He'd never stood this close to a woman before, not even Minda. It took him a moment before he could collect himself enough to step back and say, "You poor thing. I think right after lunch we should tuck you up in the guest room for a nap." Then he blushed, aware that his words could be misinterpreted.

 

In the dim lamplight, Cat seemed not to notice his embarrassment, nor did she object to his offer. "You've been so kind," she said.

 

"Not at all," Giogi replied.

 

Giogi offered Cat his arm as he led her to the door and blew out the lantern.

 

"We could share this cloak," Cat suggested before he opened the door.

 

Through a knothole in her stall wall Olive watched as Giogi slid his arm around the mage's shoulder, beneath the fabric of his cloak. The two humans dashed from the carriage house, slamming the door behind them.

 

Olive's burro eyes squinted suspiciously. That woman is up to no good, she insisted to herself, and, while Giogi is a nice boy, he's no match for the machinations of a mage. What's a burro to do?

 

Keep up my strength for one thing, the halfling thought, sniffing daintily at her bucket of sweetened oats.

 

*****

 

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable by the fire while I go see about lunch," Giogi suggested as he ushered Cat into the townhouse parlor.

 

Cat sat on a satin-covered chair, carefully keeping the muddy hem of her robes from the expensive fabric, and kicked off her dirty slippers. She curled her feet beneath her and closed her eyes to slits. The noble scurried out with the picnic basket and headed back for Servant Land.

 

Thomas looked up from his lunch with astonishment. Giogi, as wet as a river rat, stood in the door, looking very apologetic.

 

"Sorry to disturb you, Thomas," his master said, setting the picnic basket down on the table, "but the catacombs jaunt didn't quite go over as expected. Do you think you could manage lunch for myself and a guest—just a little nourishment, preferably something warm?"

 

"Of course, sir," the servant replied, rising from the table. "Um, sir. You have heard the news about your Uncle Drone?"

 

"Yes," Giogi said. "Lord Frefford told me."

 

"My condolences, sir."

 

His voice cracking with emotion, Giogi replied, "Thank you, Thomas." Giogi turned, about to leave, then, remembering that his lunch guest's stay was to be more permanent, turned again. "One more thing, Thomas. When you've finished your lunch, could you spark up the lilac room fire and turn down the bed?"

 

"The lilac room, sir?" Thomas replied with confusion.

 

"Yes. My lunch guest will be slaying with us for a while, and will need to rest immediately after lunch."

 

"You wouldn't want to offer anyone the lilac room, sir," Thomas replied. The servant actually looked a little alarmed, though Giogi could hardly tell why, it wasn't as if Thomas didn't keep the lilac room in pristine condition. "The red room would be far superior," Thomas said.

 

"I thought the lilac room would be—well, it's more suitable for a lady, don't you think?"

 

"A lady, sir?" Thomas asked, his eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.

 

"Um, yes, a lady." Giogi's voice quavered slightly and he felt a trace of alarm. He had forgotten how provincial people were in Immersea, especially the servants. "I know it's irregular, but it's an irregular situation—not one we need mention, though, to Aunt Dorath."

 

"I would imagine not, sir," Thomas agreed. "Still, the linen in the red room is in better condition. Your guest would be much more comfortable there."

 

"Very well," Giogi agreed, dissatisfied but not wanting to antagonize the man on whose discretion he must depend. "The red room. The lady's name, by the way, is Cat. She's a magic-user. She may be able to help me find the wyvern's spur."

 

"Ah, I see." Thomas nodded. "Oh, sir. About two hours ago, a servant from Redstone delivered a package for you. I left it on your writing table in the parlor."

 

"A package? Hmm," Giogi mused, wondering what sort of package would be sent down from Redstone. "Well, thank you, Thomas. We'll be in the parlor until you announce lunch."

 

"Very good, sir."

 

Giogi turned about again and nearly ran over a large, fat black-and-white tomcat, which meowed up at him with annoyance.

 

"Thomas, is that Spot?" Giogi asked.

 

"Yes, sir," Thomas said. "He appeared on the doorstep about an hour ago. I didn't have the heart to turn him away."

 

"No. You were quite right," Giogi said. "He'll need looking after now that Uncle Drone is gone. Aunt Dorath always threatened to turn him into a muff someday. Can't have that, can we, boy?" Giogi bent over and picked up the heavy feline.

 

Cradling Spot in his arms, Giogi returned to the parlor and his guest. Spot leaped from the noble's arms, sat by the fireplace, and began washing himself.

 

Giogi looked over at Cat. Her eyes were closed, and her head rested against the overstuffed wing of the chair. Her face was relaxed now that her fear and pride had drained away in sleep. Actually, Giogi thought, she's much prettier than Alias of Westgate.

 

Giogi crept quietly over to his desk so as not to disturb the young woman. A bundle of red velvet cloth wrapped with twine lay upon the blotter. The noble sat at his desk and picked up the parcel. Something hard, nearly two feet long, eight inches around, and quite heavy lay within the cloth. Giogi picked away the knot in the string.

 

Giogi unwound the velvet cloth carefully, revealing a gleaming black statue of a beautiful woman. Her lithe and scantily clad form was slightly arched, and her shapely arms were swept up over her head in a circle. Her face was round and pretty. Her lips were parted slightly, and her eves were closed, like a woman waiting to be surprised. The rest of her physical features Uncle Drone had once described as ample, though Aunt Dorath had argued they were scandalous.

 

"Sweet Selune," Giogi whispered, recognizing the statue immediately.

 

"What's wrong?" Cat asked sleepily.

 

Giogi started and turned in his chair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

 

"That's all right," the mage said, rising from her chair."[ was just napping. Oh! What a beautiful statue," she said, padding over to Giogi's side. "Where did vou get it?"

 

"It's Uncle Drone's—well, it was Uncle Drone's. Thomas says a servant brought it over this morning. It's a carving of Selune by Cledwyll."

 

"Really? I've never seen a Cledwyll before. It must be worth a fortune."

 

"I suppose. Not that we'd ever sell it. It was a gift from the artist to Paton Wyvernspur, the founder of our family line." Giogi set the statue on the writing table and idly stroked the glistening black stream of hair that flowed down its back.

 

Why did Uncle Drone send me this? the nobleman wondered. I wouldn't have thought he'd have ever parted with it. Unless he had some premonition of his death and was afraid Aunt Dorath would lock it away from sight. Giogi took his hand off the statue to search the cloth wrapping for a note of explanation.

 

"Down, Spot. Naughty boy," a wheezy voice suddenly chided.

 

Giogi sat up and stared at the statue. The lovely lips of the carving of Selune moved, and from them issued an old man's voice—Uncle Drone's voice. The voice spoke again, saying, "Giogi, listen. The wyvern's spur is your destiny. Steele mustn't get it. You must find it first. Search for the thief."

 

The statue's mouth froze back into its normal alluring shape and was silent. The room was quiet, except for the wind and rain on the windows. Spot jumped up on the desk and sniffed at the statue.

 

Cat's brow furrowed in puzzlement. There was something very unusual about the magical message. She did a quick mental calculation. Yes, she realized, something's missing. "Who's voice was that?" she asked.

 

"Uncle Drone's," Giogi replied. An ache settled in his heart. That's the last time I'll ever hear his voice, he realized.

 

"And who's Spot?" the mage asked.

 

"His cat. This beast," Giogi explained, reaching out to stroke Spot's fur. Spot pushed Giogi's quill pen off the desk to the floor and leaped down after it.

 

"What did your Uncle Drone mean," Cat asked, "by the wyvern's spur being vour destiny?"

 

"I'm not sure. I suppose it has something to do with my father. He used the spur somehow. I guess Uncle Drone expects me to, as well."

 

"How can the spur be used?" the mage asked curiously.

 

Giogi shrugged. "I don't know."

 

Cat sank down onto the thick Calimsham carpeting and sat cross-legged beside the writing table. "Do you think your uncle was telling the truth when he told your aunt he didn't have the spur or know where it was?"

 

"Oh, Uncle Drone would never lie," Giogi said.

 

"But he told your family the thief was in the catacombs," Cat pointed out with a skeptical smile.

 

"Actually, what he said was the would-be thief was stuck in the catacombs. He was right, wasn't he?" the nobleman asked. He meant the question to be a chastisement, but he couldn't help grinning at the mage.

 

Cat blushed with embarrassment and stared down at her lap.

 

"It's possible," Giogi admitted, "that Uncle Drone knew more about the real thief than he let on. I don't see how he expected me to find the spur without telling me more about the thief, though," he added irritably.

 

Cat looked back up at the nobleman. "He may have meant to include something more about the thief in his message, but it got cut off," the mage conjectured.

 

"Cut off? What do you mean?" Giogi asked.

 

Cat repeated the message, holding up a finger for every word. "'Giogi listen. The wvvern's spur is your destiny. Steele mustn't get it. You must find it first. Search for the thief.' That's twenty-one words. The spell he used to send the message only has magic enough to send twenty-five words. That leaves four words."

 

"Four words," Giogi mused. "He could have told me the thief's name and city, at least. Why didn't he?"

 

"He probably did, but he used four words at the beginning of the message, probably by accident. Remember?"

 

"'Down, Spot. Naughty boy,'" Giogi said with a sigh. He looked at the tomcat chewing on his quill pen. "You are a naughty boy, too," the noble said, pulling the feather from the cat's mouth and setting it back up on the desk. "Well, that's that."

 

"A priest might be able to try speaking with his spirit," Cat suggested.

 

"Aunt Dorath would never allow that. Not even to find the spur. We don't disturb the dead in our family."

 

"Then you're back to scratch unless there's anything else you can think of that your uncle might have mentioned. Is there?" the mage queried.

 

"He told me to watch my step, that my life could be in danger," Giogi recalled.

 

"From whom?" Cat asked.

 

Giogi shook his head uncertainly. He considered Julia's attempt to drug him at Steele's request. Steele wouldn't have killed me, he thought. The guardian would never harm a Wyvernspur, even if she is always talking about cracking bones. Uncle Drone wouldn't have bothered to warn me about the disgusting stirges or the awful kobolds or the bugbears—he knew I already knew about them. The only other person down there was Cat.

 

Giogi looked at the lovely mage. Her face was still pale and drawn from exhaustion, but her green eyes glittered. She saved my life in the catacombs, he thought, so it couldn't have been her that Uncle Drone meant. She must have been freezing down there, Giogi realized, noting the way the firelight shone through Cat's shimmering robes, outlining her slender figure. Her long, shining copper hair would have kept her warmer than that foolish frock, he thought.

 

"Master Giogioni? Who are you thinking of? Who would want to kill you?" Cat asked, noting the faraway look in the young noble's eyes.

 

Giogi snapped out of his reverie. "No one. I haven't got any enemies."

 

"Does the guardian know about your fate? Is that what she meant by 'not long now'?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"You said before that you don't want to know. I would want to know if it were my fate. Why don't you want to know?"

 

Giogi shuddered. "Because it has something to do with dreaming about the death cry of prey, the taste of warm blood, and the crunch of bone." The words just tumbled oft his tongue before he could hold them back.

 

"Do you dream about those things?" Cat asked in an awed whisper. Her eves widened with excitement.

 

"No," Giogi said, then he amended, "not often."

 

"How interesting," the mage said. "What kind of prey?"

 

Giogi shuddered, a little shocked by Cat's reaction. There was a knock at the parlor door. Giogi felt a flash of relief that the conversation was interrupted. "Come in," the noble called.

 

Thomas stepped one pace into the room. "Luncheon is served, sir," he announced, then he retreated hastily. The sight of the beautiful woman seated at his master's feet flustered him. He withdrew from the parlor hurriedly.

 

Giogi rose and bent to help Cat stand. She placed her hand in his own and used it to steady herself as she stood. Her thankful smile warmed the young noble. He led her from the parlor and into the dining room.

 

Thomas had whipped up a simple meal: cheese fondue, venison broth with noodles, fish poached in wine, and crepes with boysenberry jam. Cat seemed delighted with each course, which pleased Giogi, but the young man didn't feel very hungry.

 

When I was younger, he thought, I had no trouble devouring a meal this size and asking how soon until tea. What's happened to my appetite? he wondered.

 

Conversation was suspended briefly while they ate, but Cat resumed her questions as they finished off the lemon tea. "If I must be a Wvvernspur because the guardian let me pass, then the spur's thief must be a Wyvernspur, too. right?" she asked.

 

Giogi nodded.

 

"How many of you are there?"

 

"Well, there's me and Aunt Dorath and Uncle Drone and Frefford and Steele and Julia, oh, and Frefford's wife and new baby daughter. That's all that's left of Gerrin Wyvernspur's line— that's old Paton's grandson. There must be other lines of the family. Gerrin had a brother. I can't remember his name, but, anyway, none of his descendants have kept in touch with the Immersea branch. We didn't even know if there were any, but the real thief must be one of them. You must be one of them, too," Giogi explained.

 

"I wouldn't know," Cat said with a disinterested shrug. "I'm an orphan," she explained.

 

Giogi gave the mage a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry," he said.

 

"Why should you be?" Cat asked sharply, annoyed by what she thought was pity.

 

"Well, it's pretty awful being an orphan," Giogi replied sincerely. "I know. I'm one myself. My father died when I was eight. My mother died a year later, of a broken heart, they say. I miss them both."

 

The nobleman's tenderheartedness disturbed the mage. She explained hastily, "I don't remember my parents." She stifled a yawn.

 

"I shouldn't be keeping you from your nap," Giogi said. "I'll show you to your room."

 

"What will you be doing this afternoon?" the mage asked.

 

"Well, I'd like to visit Frefford's new daughter. Then—" Giogi hesitated, trying to decide what he could do. "I think I need to speak to someone who knows more about the spur."

 

"Who's that?" Cat asked, stifling another yawn.

 

"I don't know," Giogi replied. "There has to be somebody."

 

10

 

Cat's Master

 

From the journal of Giogioni Wyvernspur:

 

The 20th of Ches, in the Year of the Shadows

 

My Uncle Drone died this morning, apparently a victim of his own magic. No one will mourn his passing more deeply than I. Yet, I can't help feeling cross with him at the same time. It seems apparent he was involved somehow in the theft of the wyvern's spur. Since his very last message to me enjoined me to find the thief, however, I must assume he did not steal the spur himself.

 

It would have been an easy matter, though, for Uncle Drone to disengage the magical alarms that warn of intruders in the crypt, giving his accomplice the opportunity to sneak in.

 

The theft might have gone undiscovered for some time had it not been for the presence of a second thief, who did set off an alarm.

 

Since Uncle Drone was desperate enough to cast a dangerous spell to locate the spur, it's probable that his accomplice betrayed him. A disturbing idea, that, since the thief must have been another Wyvernspur.

 

Besides the problem of discovering the thief, I'm also left with the worry that my life still "might possibly be in danger," as Uncle Drone warned me last evening. That danger might be past now that I've returned safely from the crypt, but, somehow, I doubt it. I've just taken into my protection a young woman. Cat, whose former master, Flattery, is, according to Cat, "a powerful mage with a violent temper."

 

Flattery also wishes to obtain the spur.

 

I can't help thinking that to find the spur, I'll need to find out about its alleged powers. The guardian spirit in the family crypt might know, though I don't relish the idea of asking her. Aunt Dorath might know, too. I'm not certain I relish the idea of asking her, either.

 

Giogi leaned back in his chair and waved his quill idly in the air. Having settled his guest in her room, he'd returned to the parlor to make a quick entry in his journal before heading off to Redstone.

 

As usual when he wrote in his journal, there were things he thought it best not to record. Aside from keeping secret his Cousin Julia's scandalous behavior in the graveyard, he couldn't bring himself to reveal that Cat was the second thief. She hadn't actually stolen anything, after all, and she'd apparently left Flattery's evil influence.

 

Giogi realized he could not mention that he knew Cat to be a Wyvernspur, either, since that would put her under suspicion of the theft. That meant he could not mention a speculation he'd formed regarding the identity of the thief.

 

As he'd been writing in his journal, it had seemed an awfully unusual coincidence that both Flattery and Uncle Drone had found unknown Wyvernspurs to enter the crypt for them. This had reminded him of how unusual it was that he'd run into two women who looked like Alias of Westgate. That's when it had struck him. Perhaps Alias was a Wyvernspur, too.

 

If that were the case, the swordswoman could be the thief. Last night, Sudacar had said she was supposed to be in Shadowdale working for Elminster the sage, but perhaps Sudacar was mistaken. There was one person who might know for sure: Alias's friend and patron, Olive Ruskettle, who happened to be in town.

 

Giogi laid his quill down. He would go see Frefford's new baby first, he decided, then speak with Aunt Dorath about the spur. There was no point, he realized, in trying to get in touch with Mistress Ruskettle before sunset. All entertainers slept in the day. After supper, he could stop in at the Fish to see if the famous bard was in.

 

*****

 

Mistress Ruskettle, the famous bard, stirred uneasily in her sleep. She was plagued by nightmares of Cassana, the evil sorceress who'd created and tried to enslave Alias. In the current dream, Cassana was not destroyed, but had transformed into a lich, an undead magic-user. Cassana wore, as she had in life, the most expensive clothing and jewelry. All her finery could not hide her emaciated form, nor distract Olive's gaze from her withered skeletal face, which had once resembled Alias's.

 

In Olive's dream, the Cassana lich had captured Jade, but Olive, in her halfling form, was too frightened to rescue her. Instead, she fled from Cassana. As often happened in dreams, though, no matter how fast Olive tried to run, she seemed to stand still. She heard a horse whickering. If I could just find the horse, catch it, and mount it, Olive thought, I could ride to safety.

 

The horse whickered again. Olive started awake. She was back in Immersea, in Giogi's carriage house, still a burro.

 

"Silly mare. Here, have some oats," a familiar voice said.

 

Olive peered through a gap in her stall wall. Cat stood outside Daisyeye's stall with her hand extended out to the mare. The mage had successfully routed the horse's instinct to raise an alarm by bribing it with more of the sweetened grain. The beast sniffed curiously, nuzzled up the treat, and lost its distrust of the woman.

 

Sleet still splashed and skittered on the roof overhead, but some gray daylight trickled into the carriage house from a window. Late afternoon, Olive guessed.

 

What's she doing here? the halfling wondered. Maybe she's decided to leave Giogi, after all, Olive thought, and she's here to steal Daisyeye to escape. It occurred to Olive again that Giogi's Uncle Drone might have been wrong about Giogi not finding the spur's real thief in the catacombs. Cat could have had the spur all along and been only waiting for the most opportune moment to run off with it.

 

Instead of saddling the horse, though, Cat drew out a sheet of white paper from a pocket of her muddy robes. She began folding the paper, over and over, pulling and tucking corners until it resembled a long-winged bird.

 

She held the bird up to her face and stared at it angrily. With a sudden motion, she' crumbled the figure and tossed it into Olive's stall.

 

Olive watched Cat walk to the outside door, but the mage hesitated with her hand around the door handle. She turned about and walked back to Olive's stall.

 

Unlatching the door, Cat slipped in beside the burro. She fished about the straw on the floor until she'd found the crushed paper bird. She smoothed the paper out against her thigh and folded it back into shape.

 

Holding the figure to her lips, she whispered, "Master Flattery, your Cat has information about the spur. She begs thee to come swiftly to her. She waits alone in Giogioni Wvvernspur's carriage house."

 

The mage walked out of Olive's stall so preoccupied with her paper bird that she left the door open. She walked back to the outside door, opened the upper half, and held the rumpled figure in her palm. The bird twitched, then fluttered its wings. "Fly to my master's throne," Cat instructed. The paper bird sped from the carriage house and disappeared into the sleet.

 

Cat left the upper half of the door open, climbed up into the unharnessed, open buggy, and settled onto the cushioned seat. She sighed once and sat very still with her hands folded in her lap. She closed her eyes, but not completely, and from her posture, the halfling could tell she was still alert and aware.

 

Olive trembled with anger. The treacherous witch didn't waste any time, the halfling thought. As quietly as she could, the burro tiptoed out of the stall and slipped into the shadows at the rear of the carriage house. How long, she wondered, would it take for Cat's master to arrive from his throne? Cassana and ol' Zrie Prakis sat on thrones. Mages who sit on thrones always mean trouble, Olive-girl. They take themselves too seriously.

 

Either Cat's little paper bird had the speed of a dragon, or her master's throne was just on the other side of town. Whichever it was, the woman didn't have too long to wait. In less time than it took to hard-cook an egg, something arrived.

 

A huge black raven swooped through the open upper door and landed on the buggy's lantern pole. The bird shook its feathers dry and fluttered to the buggy seat beside Cat. At first, Olive thought the bird was some sort of magical messenger, perhaps Flattery's familiar. Then the raven grew monstrously. Its feathers became cloth and hair, its wings turned into arms, and its claws into legs. Cat remained still and silent throughout the transformation.

 

The raven finished changing into a man. He wore a black cloak of great size. Silky black hair, shinier than raven's feathers, hung to his shoulders. His face was turned away from Olive, but the halfling had no trouble hearing his words, and there was something disturbingly familiar in his deep bass rumble. "Well, Catling?" he demanded.

 

Cat trembled and bowed her head. When she spoke, her tone was so meek that Olive cringed to hear it. "Forgive me, master; Cat said. "I failed at the task you set me."

 

Without a word, Flattery backhanded the woman across her face. The crack of his hand on Cat's flesh startled Daisyeye, who kicked at her stall and nickered nervously. Olive backed up, prepared for an awful fight. Only last month, she'd witnessed Jade slash the finger off some fool mercenary who'd pinched her, and, of course, everyone who'd tried to keep Alias as a slave was dead, by her hand or the hands of her allies. Olive had a momentary fear that the carriage house would not be big enough to contain any magical reaction by the sharp-tongued female mage, sister to both Jade and Alias.

 

Cat sat motionless. She uttered no sound of protest. Her head remained bowed.

 

"Since I set you this simple task the spur has twice defied my power to detect it. Your failure could mean we've lost it forever," Flattery snarled.

 

"The spur was not where you said it would be."

 

"Are you saying I made a mistake?" Flattery asked.

 

"No, master. I'm saying someone else stole it before I reached the crypt."

 

"Who?" Flattery demanded.

 

"I don't know," Cat answered. She continued hurriedly, "But I may be able to discover that information." She paused as if hoping for some sign of pleasure or excitement from her master, but she hoped in vain.

 

"Continue," Flattery said coolly.

 

"I saw no one else in the catacombs that evening," Cat explained, "save the monsters who live there. After searching the crypt and finding the spur gone, I tried to leave the catacombs by the secret door, but it was sealed from without. I returned to the crypt, but the door to the mausoleum staircase was locked. I was trapped inside." The woman's voice quavered with the memory of the fear she'd felt when she'd been imprisoned underground.

 

Flattery was not as sympathetic to her plight as Giogi had been. In fact, the wizard was not sympathetic at all. "You should have stayed there and saved me the trouble of listening to your pitiful excuses," he growled.

 

Cat trembled for a minute. Olive thought the woman might be weeping, but since the halfling couldn't see the mage's face, she couldn't be sure.

 

"Continue," Flattery snapped.

 

Cat sniffled once and obeyed. "Giogioni Wyvernspur found me in the catacombs," she said. "I told him what I have told you, that I did not steal the spur only because someone else stole it first, and he believed me completely. His uncle, Drone Wyvernspur, had told him he would not find the thief in the catacombs, and he took the old man's word as prophecy.

 

"Realizing that Drone must know something more of the thief, I arranged to return with Giogioni, planning to meet Drone and wheedle his information from him. Drone died this morning, however, in a spell gone awry."

 

"The town heralds announced his death," Flattery said. For the first time, he sounded pleased. "Not that it came as a surprise, did it?" he chuckled.

 

"I don't understand," Cat replied with confusion. "His family seemed rather shocked by it."

 

Flattery snorted derisively. "You can be such a fool. I presume," he said imperiously, "that you have an excuse for not returning to me immediately after you discovered Drone Wyvernspur was dead."

 

"Drone left a message for Giogioni Wyvernspur instructing him to find the thief," Cat explained anxiously. "If I remain beside Giogioni, and he succeeds, I shall have the information you seek."

 

"By all reports, this Giogioni is an idiot and a fop. How can he succeed where I cannot? You are wasting both your time and my own," Flattery growled.

 

"Yet, Drone Wyvernspur confided in Giogioni and left the search in his hands. Didn't you tell me yesterday that Drone was shrewd?"

 

"Yes," Flattery admitted reluctantly. He sat, unspeaking, for several moments, deep in his own thoughts. Finally he asked Cat, "Under what pretext are you remaining beside this Giogioni?"

 

"I told him I was afraid to return to my master without the spur. He has offered me protection from you."

 

Flattery burst into laughter. The sound echoed unpleasantly through the carriage house rafters and made Olive's fur-clad flesh crawl. The wizard leaped down from the buggy, grasped the rear right wheel in his hands, and snapped it in half. As the axle crashed to the ground, Cat lost her balance. Flattery caught her in his arms and spun around wildly. To Olive, his treatment of the woman appeared not like a dancer swinging a partner, but like a vicious dog shaking a rag doll.

 

When he stopped his mad capering, Flattery fell back against Daisyeye's stall. Still holding Cat in his arms, he whispered harshly, "The Wyvernspur never breathed who could protect you should I find you've betrayed me. Don't ever forget that."

 

A dim beam of light illuminated his face, revealing the terrifying rictus grin he wore. Olive's heart skipped several beats, and she forgot to breathe for a moment as she stared in horror at Flattery's face. He had cruel ice-blue eyes, a hawk nose, thin lips, a sharp jawline—all the features of a Wyvernspur on a face younger than Nameless's and older than Steele's and Frefford's. The face of Jade's murderer.

 

"You trust me with so little. How can it be in my power to betray you?" Cat asked.

 

Flattery's eyes glowered. "Don't nip at me, foolish Cat. What's annoyed you now?"

 

"You did not tell me of the guardian of the crypt."

 

Flattery shrugged as he set her down. "What of it?"

 

"The guardian slays anyone in the crypt who is not a Wyvernspur. You told me nothing of this. You did not even tell me you were a Wyvernspur."

 

"So you've figured that out, have you?" Flattery laughed. "What difference does it make? I saw to your protection. I gave you my name."

 

"Is that the only reason you insisted I wed you?" Cat asked. Her tone was meek but expectant.

 

Flattery laughed again. "Is your pride wounded. Cat?"

 

"Is that the only reason?" Cat demanded more firmly.

 

Flattery sobered. "I haven't decided yet," he replied coldly.

 

"Suppose the guardian hadn't recognized our marriage? You're a Wyvernspur. Why didn't you go after the spur yourself? Why did you send me in your place?"

 

Flattery's hand shot out with the swiftness of a viper, gathering up the front of Cat's robes and pulling her toward him so that her face was just below his. "You have to do something to prove your worth, you lazy witch," the wizard said.

 

Moving his hands to her waist, Flattery lifted the woman from the ground and tossed her away from him, but, like her namesake, Cat managed to twist about and land on her feet. Flattery grabbed at her long hair and pulled her back toward him. He yanked her around by her arm.

 

"You have sworn to serve me," he reminded her.

 

Cat's stance became submissive at once. Her shoulders slumped. Her head was again bowed. All the fight, what little there was of it, had gone out of the woman. She whispered, "Yes, master."

 

Flattery smiled. "I will expect to meet with you again tomorrow," he said.

 

"I will arrange it, master."

 

"Spur this Giogioni on, Catling. I know you can."

 

"Yes, master."

 

Flattery pushed himself away from Daisyeve's stall and walked back toward the buggy. He spun around to keep Cat in his sight, as if expecting her to jump him once his back was turned, but she remained as still as ever. Olive, too, remained frozen, terrified of revealing her position.

 

Bored by Cat's silence and submissiveness, Flattery let his gaze wander past her. His eyes fell on the portrait of the Nameless Bard that hung in Olive's stall.

 

The wizard snarled like an animal. "Flame spears," he said, gesturing with his hands toward the stall. Jets of flame sprang from his fingertips and enveloped the painting hanging over Olive's oat bucket. The painting crashed to the floor and spread fire to the straw on the floor, Daisyeye, in the stall next door, whinnied.

 

"Master Flattery, what are you doing?" Cat cried out with fright.

 

"What do you care? Curse him. Curse them all. May their homes burn while they dream inside."

 

"This place is too useful for private meetings," Cat argued, rushing toward the fire, her meekness now forgotten.

 

"Then you preserve it," Flattery snapped. He flung his arms out from his body and snarled a chant of arcane words. His voice became hoarse and sharp, and his form small and feathered. He cawed raucously in his raven shape, then hurtled out the open window and into the gloom.

 

Cursing, Cat grabbed the burro's oat bucket and used it to dredge water from the beast's trough to throw on the fire. By the time she had doused the last flame and spark, the mage was as sodden as the straw around her.

 

Cat picked the portrait up from the ground, but the paint was too blackened for her to make out what there was about it that had so angered Flattery. She leaned the charred frame and canvas against the wall and turned to the next stall to calm Daisyeye. The mare accepted her caresses and reassurances and could not find the heart to refuse another handful of oats from the mage.

 

Stupid horse, Olive thought.

 

It was then that Cat noticed the missing burro.

 

"Birdie?" she whispered. "Little one?"

 

Olive froze.

 

"Birdie, I know you're in here. Come out, you silly ass."

 

Olive held her breath.

 

Cat rustled her hand in the oat bag. "Want a treat, Birdie?"

 

Olive felt her nose twitch from the smell of smoke.

 

"Have it your way," Cat said into the darkness. "Giogioni can think you caused this mess for all I care." After giving Daisyeye a last pat on the rear, the mage returned to the outer door, joined the lower half to the upper, slipped outside, and closed the door behind her.

 

Olive remained still, hidden in the shadows of the carriage house, until long after the sound of Cat's footsteps faded from her hearing.

 

She crept back into her blackened stall, keeping a sharp eye out for any telltale sparks Cat might have missed. The mage seemed to have done an adequate job keeping the carriage house from destruction. Too bad she hasn't got the same concern for Giogi, the halfling thought.

 

Even if she was concerned for the young Wyvernspur noble, Olive couldn't picture Cat standing in Flattery's way should he decide to destroy Giogi the way he murdered Jade.

 

It was beyond Olive's capacity to understand how Cat could transform from a clever and confident mage, able to manipulate foolish young men into taking her home, to a humble and frightened slave, who watched in silence while someone wrecked carriages and burned down horse stalls. What kind of power did Flattery have over her that he could bully her like a whipped child and had even coerced her into marriage?

 

Somehow, Olive realized, she had to keep Cat from doublecrossing Giogi. Olive snorted derisively at herself. I have as much chance at that, the halfling thought, as I do at convincing her to help me destroy Flattery to avenge Jade.

 

She would be the perfect choice, though, Olive mused. Flattery trusts her as much as his insanity will allow. It would be so fitting if he were destroyed by someone with the same face as the woman he murdered.

 

Olive pondered the idea while she munched on hay in the smoky carriage house.

 

*****

 

Giogi reached out and stroked his new cousin's tiny left hand. Her delicate fingers opened at his touch, like a moss rose in the sun.

 

"She's just perfect, Freffie," Giogi whispered. "As pretty as her mother."

 

"Well, she gets some of her good looks from me, don't you think?" Frefford asked.

 

Giogi looked up at his Cousin Frefford and back down at the baby girl sleeping in the maple cradle. Then he looked up again at Frefford, then back down at the baby. "Not if she's lucky," he said with a grin.

 

Frefford chuckled.

 

"It's so exciting, Freffie," Giogi said. "You're a father now, and I'm an uncle. Wait. I'm not really, am I? Just a second cousin once removed."

 

"You can be an uncle if you want, Giogi," Frefford said. "Lady Amber Leona Wyvernspur," Frefford whispered to the sleeping baby, "this is your rich Uncle JoJo. Learn to say his name, and he'll buy you all the ponies you want."

 

Giogi grinned.

 

"I'm going to check to see if Gaylyn's awake yet," Frefford said. "You can stay here if you like."

 

Giogi nodded. "Give Gaylyn my regards," he said.

 

"I will," Frefford whispered. He tiptoed from the nursery, where his daughter lay on display for well-wishers to view while his wife slept undisturbed in the next room.

 

Giogi had the baby all to himself now, since the well-wishers had been few so far. Some, no doubt, had been discouraged by the awkwardness of having to deliver congratulations and condolences in the same breath. The majority, Giogi assumed, had been put off by the awful weather.

 

The sleet had wrapped everything in a thick coating of ice and Immersea looked like it had been encased in glass. Unwilling to risk Daisyeye on the slick roads, Giogi had once again hiked up the path to Redstone. It had been rough going, but the fields and marshes had offered his feet far more traction than the cobblestone roads would have. This latest exertion, combined with having risen at dawn after a late night of drinking, followed by walking miles through the catacombs, had left the nobleman exhausted.

 

Giogi slid a rocking chair up beside the cradle and collapsed into it. "There's nothing I'd rather do than just sit here with you, Amberry," he whispered to the baby. "It's so snug and peaceful here, I could almost forget all the bad things that have happened."

 

Giogi closed his eyes and lay his head back. His breathing slowed and grew more shallow. Giogi felt himself beginning to soar. He was dreaming again. He opened his eyes in his dream and found the field he soared over covered in ice, like the fields surrounding Immersea. A little burro trotted into view.

 

Giogi gasped. Not Birdie! he thought. Unable to speak in the dream, the nobleman urged the burro mentally, Run, Birdie! Birdie needed no warning. She began to gallop downhill, but her hooves slid on the ice, and she ended up on her front knees with her back legs splayed out behind her. Giogi swooped down. Birdie brayed pitifully.

 

"Giogioni Wyvernspur! Just what do you think you're doing here?" a female voice barked.

 

Giogi started awake. He had no idea how long he'd slept, but if Aunt Dorath caught him napping, a minute would be as bad as an hour. Aunt Dorath was of the opinion that a healthy young person did not need to sleep in the day, and Giogi could hardly offer her the excuse that he was tired because he'd been out late drinking with Samtavan Sudacar.

 

The young nobleman leaped to his feet. "Good afternoon, Aunt Dorath. I was just having a peek at Amber. Freffie said it was all right if I sat with her a few minutes."

 

"He did, did he? He would," Aunt Dorath said with a sniff. "Did he also give you permission to slough off your duties? Or have you forgotten that this family is in the middle of a crisis of unimaginable proportions? The curse of the wyvern's spur has already claimed Cousin Drone and nearly took Steele as well, yet here I find you napping."

 

Giogi meant to point out to his aunt that Steele had brought his injuries on himself by his horrendous behavior, and that he, Giogi, had played no small part in rescuing Steele from the jaws of death, as it were, but he was never given the opportunity. Not even magic could stop the avalanche of Aunt Dorath's harangue.

 

"Yet, despite his brush with the hereafter," she continued, "Steele went off immediately after lunch in search of a discreet high priest or mage who might help us locate the spur. Of course, you've made discretion rather unnecessary, haven't you? I've just learned that our family's tragedy was the talk of every tavern in Immersea last night. No wonder you can't stay awake—you were carousing in town all night, discussing family business, both of which I specifically forbade you to do."

 

"But I didn't mean—" Giogi began to say.

 

"I will not accept your overindulgences with alcohol as an excuse for divulging our family's problems, nor for sleeping when you should be performing some task that will aid in the spur's recovery. The only person with any excuse for resting on this day is Gaylyn. And Amber, of course. Even Frefford has assigned himself a task. He is investigating every stranger in town who might possibly be a long-lost relation and our thief."

 

Giogi's exhaustion got the better of his temper. "What about Julia? Why not just have her listen at the door of the thieves' guild?" he asked sarcastically.

 

Aunt Dorath's brow knit in annoyance. Her reaction was a clue to her great-nephew that she already had some inkling of Julia's eavesdropping. The old woman recovered her lost ground quickly, though. "Julia," she replied frostily, "is seeing to the arrangements for Cousin Drone's memorial service. Now, what do you propose to do in what time remains today?"

 

Well, Giogi thought, straightening up, here goes. "I plan to discover the spur's secret powers," he announced.

 

"The spur doesn't have any secret powers," Aunt Dorath snapped.

 

"Oh, but it does," Giogi insisted. "My father used the spurs powers whenever he went adventuring."

 

Aunt Dorath gave a little gasp and sank into the rocking chair. "Who told you that?" she demanded. "It was Cousin Drone, wasn't it? I should have realized his oath was not to be trusted."

 

"Uncle Drone didn't tell me, Aunt Dorath," the nobleman insisted. Angry with the old woman for keeping his father's ad-venturing a secret from him, Giogi felt spite take hold of him. "Actually, it's common knowledge," he taunted. "They talk about it in every tavern in Immersea."

 

Aunt Dorath leaned forward in the rocker and poked Giogi in the rib with her finger. "This is not a joking matter," she reprimanded him.

 

"No," Giogi agreed, feeling bad for trying to shock her. "It is a family matter, though." He bent over his aunt and put his hands on her shoulders. "I have a right to know about my father," he said vehemently. "You should have told me."

 

Aunt Dorath glared up at him. "All right," she replied hotly. "Cole used to tramp about the countryside in the company of rogues and ruffians, and whenever he left, he took the spur from the crypt. Not that I blame Cole. Your Uncle Drone, to his everlasting guilt, aided him, and Cole hadn't the force of will to resist the spirit of that she-beast. She used those awful dreams to seduce him from his family's side."

 

"She-beast?" Giogi asked. "Do you mean the guardian?"

 

Dorath's voice rose sharply as she retorted. "Of course I mean the guardian. What other she-beast lurks in our family?"

 

Giogi bit the inside of his cheeks and fought back his urge to reply.

 

"Who else," Dorath asked, "is always babbling about the death cry of prey, or the taste of warm blood, or the crunch of bone?"

 

"She's talked to you, too?" Giogi squeaked in astonishment.

 

"Of course she's talked to me, you fool," the old woman replied. "You don't imagine that out of fifteen generations of Wyvernspurs you were the only child ever locked down in that crypt by accident, do you?"

 

Amber gurgled and squawked in her cradle, and Aunt Dorath rose to pat the infant reassuringly. Frefford's daughter quieted.

 

"Do you have the same dreams, too?" Giogi asked.

 

For a moment, it looked as if some fearful memory disturbed Aunt Dorath's composure, but she shook her head once, the way a horse would to dislodge a gadfly, and her face grew calm. "I had them once," she admitted softly, then added more sternly, "but I ignored them, as would any well-bred young woman."

 

"But they don't go away," Giogi whispered.

 

Aunt Dorath turned from the cradle and put her hands on Giogi's shoulders. "You must keep ignoring them," she insisted, giving him a shake. "You are a Wyvernspur. You belong with your family in Immersea. All that gadding about the Realms with the spur got your father was killed."

 

"He didn't die from a riding accident like you said, did he?" Giogi accused the old woman. "How did he die?"

 

"How do all adventurers die? Fell monsters hunt them. Ruthless bandits slaughter them. Evil wizards turn them to dust. It didn't make any difference to me. Cole was dead. He died far too young and far too far from home. Your Uncle Drone fetched his body back. We never discussed how he died. My only concern was that it should not happen again."

 

"I need to know the spur's power," Giogi said. "It could be a clue to who the thief is."

 

"No," Dorath answered. "It's not. Even if it were, I wouldn't tell you."

 

Giogi sighed with exasperation. "Aunt Dorath, I don't want to use the spur," he insisted. "I just want to know what it does."

 

Aunt Dorath shook her head in refusal. "I'm doing this for your own good, Giogi. I won't watch another member of our family destroyed by that cursed thing." She turned back to the cradle and readjusted the blankets around the baby.

 

"If you won't tell me, Aunt Dorath, I shall have to find out from someone else," Giogi threatened.

 

"There is no one else," his aunt said, stroking Amber's hand with her finger.

 

Giogi racked his brain for an idea of who could tell him about the spur.

 

"I'm the last member of the family who knows," Aunt Dorath whispered down to the baby.

 

"Then I'll have to ask an outsider," Giogi said. It came to him suddenly. There was someone who'd known his father, someone who'd promised to talk more about him. Someone his aunt would hate to think of as telling him the family secrets. "I'll have to ask Sudacar," he said.

 

Aunt Dorath whirled and glared at Giogi. "That upstart?" She sniffed. "What could he possibly know? He doesn't swallow without advice from his herald."

 

"He met Cole at court. He knows all about Cole's adventures." Giogi answered, hoping it were really true.

 

Aunt Dorath's eyes narrowed into slits. Giogi could tell she was calculating what Sudacar knew. She called her kinsman's bluff. "Go ahead," she said. "Ask Samtavan Sudacar. You'll he wasting your time, though."

 

"I will ask him," Giogi retorted. "Right now." He leaned over and stroked Amber's little ear before turning about and striding from the nursery. "Good afternoon, Aunt Dorath," he whispered as he left.

 

11

 

Selune's Stair

 

Samtavan Sudacar finished studying the last document in the cord of parchments Culspiir had piled before him. "Depleting resources necessitate troop inactivity," he read aloud, though he was alone. He ran his fingers through the graying hair at his temples. Reading reports such as this one was turning his dark hair gray, he decided.

 

He read the phrase over again as if it were a riddle, which indeed it was to him. Suddenly he pounded his meaty fist on his desktop and chuckled with understanding.

 

"That boy has a way with words," he sighed, shaking his head. While he admired his herald's bureaucratic skills, there were times the local lord felt it would be better if Culspiir weren't so clever that he made himself misunderstood.

 

In the document's margin, beside the passage he'd just read, Sudacar scrawled: Azoun, I can't send these boys out patrolling in freezing rain with nothing but watery porridge in their stomachs. I need those food rations!!!

 

Sudacar initialed the notation, scrawled his full signature at the bottom, and rolled up the scroll. He finished by slopping liquefied wax on the seam and pressing his signet ring into the resulting mess.

 

Stretching out his arms to ease the muscles in his broad shoulders, he muttered, "I've had enough of this stuffy little closet."

 

The main reception hall of Redstone had been set aside for use by the king's man. Pillars and arches two stories high rose all about him. Archery contests had been held along the length of the room, and the entire town had gathered within its walls in times of crisis and celebration. Sudacar's desk was tucked at one end of the hall, with a view of the entire enormous chamber.

 

Sudacar, former giant-slayer, was a tall, burly man, though, and anywhere the wind could not blow felt stuffy to him.

 

Time to indulge in one of the prerogatives of office, he thought as he pulled on his coat. "Culspiir," he bellowed in his booming voice.

 

Culspiir slid into the room, closing the door softly behind him. The herald's face appeared so careworn it would have alarmed a stranger. Sudacar was aware, though that Culspiir wore that same expression for all occasions, from weddings to barbarian invasions.

 

"I've gone over all the reports you gave me, Cul," Sudacar said. "Good work. I thought I'd break for the day," he added, his brown eyes glittered with all the eagerness of a schoolboy asking for permission to play outside.

 

"I'm sorry, sir, but I've granted someone an interview with you for this hour."

 

"Now? Culspiir, how could you schedule someone now? Can t you see it's raining? Don't you realize that the fish are out there searching for my lure?"

 

"I thought, considering the person and the nature of his problem, that you had best see him today, sir. I've kept him waiting more than an hour so you could finish your other duties."

 

"Show him in," Sudacar sighed. He sat back down, but he did not bother to remove his cloak.

 

Culspiir slipped out, and a moment later Giogioni Wyvernspur stepped in.

 

Sudacar's face brightened. "Giogi!" he said with surprise. He rose and extended his hand to the nobleman.

 

Giogi strode up to Sudacar's desk, accepted the handshake, and returned the smile. Sudacar's welcome was a relief after being made to wait so long by the local lord's herald.

 

"Culspiir was a dog to make you wait like that," Sudacar said as if reading his thoughts. "Sorry."

 

"Oh, no. I understand. You've got lots of work," Giogi replied, though he suspected Culspiir had kept him waiting as a snub to the Wyvernspurs. The nobleman didn't resent it too much. After all, the Wyvernspurs had snubbed Culspiir and his master often enough.

 

"Culspiir just wants to be sure I don't have any excuses to put his boring papers aside," Sudacar confided in a whisper. "He doesn't like me to have any fun." Sudacar's expression became serious. "I'm sorry about your uncle, Giogi. He was a fine man A good wizard, too."

 

"Thank you," Giogi replied softly. "It's hard to believe. I don't want to believe it."

 

"That's only natural," Sudacar said, giving the younger man a comforting pat on the shoulder, "So, tell me," the local lord said more boisterously, "what brings you here, boy?"

 

"I'm sorry to bother you, Sudacar," Giogi said, "but, well, things have gotten rather confusing about the spur. I realize Aunt Dorath was a little huffy with Culspiir yesterday, not wanting to tell him about the theft, but the truth is, I could use your advice. I thought maybe there might be something you could tell me about the spur."

 

"Well, whatever advice I have is yours, Giogi, but I'm afraid I've never seen the spur. I've seen others, still on the wyvern, as it were, but not the one you're looking for."

 

"I thought you might know something about it. You knew it was stolen before I—uh, before it got around town."

 

Sudacar grinned. "Well, I don't like to brag, but not all women are as immune to my charms as your aunt," he said, giving Giogi the same wink that he had the evening before, when he'd admitted to having his own source of information. Giogi wondered idly if the woman in question was a parlor maid or a lady's maid.

 

"But, you know some tales about my father," the nobleman said. "Did you know he used the spur when he went adventuring? That the spur has some magical powers?"

 

"Does it, now? Well, well." Sudacar stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I didn't know that, but it might explain some things I've heard."

 

"Like what?"

 

Sudacar abruptly stood. "Tell you what. Why don't we take a little walk while we talk about it?" He led Giogi toward the door. On the way, the Lord of Immersea pulled a casting pole out of a rack on the wall.

 

"What's this for?" Giogi asked.

 

"We'll need it to defend ourselves, in case we run into any fish," Sudacar explained.

 

"Oh," Giogi replied as Sudacar held open the hall door for him.

 

Sudacar hoped to hurtle past Culspiir's station before his herald could find another excuse to keep him confined, but Giogi stopped at the door, his finger to his forehead,, trying to dredge something from the back of his mind.

 

At last it came to him. "Ah, yes," the nobleman said. "You know my purse that was stolen?"

 

"Oh, that," Sudacar said. "Any word on it, Culspiir?" he demanded of his subordinate.

 

"It still hasn't turned up, Master Giogioni," the herald said as he regarded Sudacar—and his casting rod—with suspicion.

 

"Well, it won't," Giogi said, "because it wasn't stolen. I'd dropped it right outside home. Found it later," he explained. "Hope I didn't cause a fuss."

 

Sudacar grunted. "Remind me to let you pick up the tab next time," he said with a grin. "Culspiir, I'll be out for the rest of the day in consultation with Master Giogioni."

 

"Of course," Culspiir said, his eyes not leaving the fishing tackle as the two men hurried through his office and out the door.

 

On the front steps of the manor, they bundled up their cloaks and pulled up their hoods against the rain, which was still icy but far less violent than it had been at noon. They left the castle walls.

 

As they trudged down toward the Immer Stream, Sudacar explained, "I never actually had the honor of adventuring with your father. To tell the truth, when I met him at court he was already a legend and I was just an apprentice sell-sword. By that time, Cole had single-handedly vanquished the hydra of Wheloon— walked into the beastie's lair unarmed and walked out alive an hour later. He was all cut up and bleeding, but, as the saying goes, you should have seen the other guy. His Majesty's troops went into the lair afterward and found the monster everywhere—diced into pieces."

 

Behind the privacy of his hood, Giogi tried without success to picture the quiet, gentle man he remembered from his childhood killing anything, even something as fierce as a hydra. His imagination remained as gray as the soft sleet falling around him.

 

Sudacar began regaling Giogi with a tale of how Cole had let himself be kidnapped by pirates. By the time the local lord had reached the part where Cole sailed the pirate ship into Suzail's harbor with all the sea thieves in irons, the local lord and the nobleman had reached the bridge where Giogi had encountered Sudacar the day before. The stream's water was a little faster and the level a little higher. Patches of ice crusted over the stiller shallows near the banks.

 

Sudacar wasted no time whipping his line out over the water, but he continued with another story about Cole. This story was set, as Sudacar put it, "in 'aught eight," when the gnolls came down from the north. Saboteurs had burned the bridge over the Starwater. The purple dragoons might never have marched to the Cormyr border's defense in time had Cole not managed miraculously—and mysteriously—to repair the bridge overnight with no one to help him but Shar, the master carpenter—who later became Cole's father-in-law.

 

Giogi's gaze remained fixed on Sudacar's lure as it flew out over the water, slithered downstream and jerked out, over and over again. The noble's thoughts, though, were occupied with trying to figure out why Sudacar's tales sounded so familiar. It wasn't until the older man began a story with Giogi's mother in it, that the reason came to Giogi in a flash.

 

In the story, Shar, the master carpenter, had come to Cole begging that he rescue Bette, the carpenter's daughter. Bette had refused the mad red wizard Yawataht as a suitor, so Yawataht had kidnapped and imprisoned Bette on top of a glass mountain. He left her there to freeze, high above the tree line, up in the clouds. Cole flew up there—though Sudacar could not say how—but he looked so fierce when he arrived that Bette mistook him for one of Yawataht's minions and smacked him on the head with a hammer.

 

The name "Yawataht" and the image of a woman striking a man with a hammer finally reminded Giogi why Sudacar's tales sounded familiar. "Uncle Drone's told me all these stories," he said, "but the hero was someone named Callyson, and the woman he rescued on the mountaintop was named Sharabet—"

 

Sudacar laughed. "Wasn't your grandmother's name Cally?" he asked.

 

Giogi smacked himself on the forehead. "Callyson—Cally's son! Sharabet—Shar's Bette! Of course! Aunt Dorath made Uncle Drone swear he wouldn't tell me my father was an adventurer, but Uncle Drone told me all about my father, anyway—only he disguised the truth as bedtime stories."

 

"So, did he tell you how your father used the spur in the stories?" Sudacar asked.

 

"He—" Giogi hesitated. He racked his brains trying to remember any mention of a magical item in the Callyson stories. "I don't remember for certain. He told me those stories more than ten years ago. I don't think so, though."

 

"Well," Sudacar said, "since your father wasn't a magic-user, it's probable the spur gave him the power to fly."

 

"There's lots of other magic like that, though," Giogi pointed out. "Why steal the spur just to fly?"

 

"It could also have been responsible for Cole's strength and fighting prowess," Sudacar suggested. "Killing a hydra is no small feat. Neither is chopping and carting the lumber for a bridge meant to span a river as wide as the Starwater."

 

"That's true," Giogi agreed. "It might help if I could pin its powers down more exactly, though."

 

"Wait a minute," Sudacar said, stroking his chin. "There is someone you could talk to, someone I know traveled with your father at least once."

 

"A rogue or a ruffian?" Giogi asked.

 

"Pardon?"

 

"According to Aunt Dorath, my father traveled with rogues and ruffians. Aunt Dorath is a little funny that way—"

 

"Yes, I've always found her amusing," Sudacar admitted grimly. "The person I was thinking of, though, was Lleddew of Selune." The instant Sudacar mentioned Selune, the goddess of the moon, he got a strike on his fishing line.

 

"Mother Lleddew?" Giogi echoed with astonishment. He'd been expecting Sudacar to name one of the adventurers who'd been at the Fish last night. Lleddew was a high priestess and older than Giogi's Aunt Dorath. The idea of the ancient holy woman tramping about the countryside with Cole was a little hard for the nobleman to accept. "Are you sure?"

 

Sudacar grinned and nodded as he pulled in his line, playing his catch. "Your family dedicated Spring Hill to Selune, but Lleddew built the temple, the House of the Lady, with the booty from her adventuring days. The trips she made with your father were her last. I've heard her call one of them 'the roofing campaign'—Gotcha!"

 

Sudacar interrupted his story as he grasped at the gleaming bass on his line and slipped it off his hook. He poked a holding string through its gills, looped the string over a rock, and let the fish drop back in the water to wriggle before suppertime. Giogi looked upstream toward Spring Hill. Strangers to Immersea often wondered why the Wyvernspurs hadn't built Redstone Castle on Spring Hill. It was the tallest hill on their land; it had the best view of the surrounding countryside, and a natural spring of sweet water gushed from its peak. The family's founder, Paton Wyvernspur, had dedicated Spring Hill to the goddess Selune, according to legend, at the request of the goddess herself. None of his descendants was ever so foolish as to try to take it back.

 

These days, the spring's water poured from Selune's temple, tumbled down the hill in a series of enchanting cascades, and ultimately became the Immer Stream. There was a road approaching Spring Hill from the north, which wound up the hill to the temple, but the hike alongside the water was far more interesting. The sun was getting low, but Giogi figured he had just enough time to make the climb and speak to Mother Lleddew before dark.

 

Sudacar followed Giogi's gaze and guessed his intentions. "Could be a tricky climb in this weather," he warned. "Maybe you should take the road instead."

 

"It's so far out of the way to reach the road," Giogi argued. "Besides, I've climbed the stream path often enough as a boy."

 

Sudacar shrugged. "I hope you find what you need to know," he said as he cast his line out again.

 

"Thanks." Giogi turned and began striding to the west.

 

At first, the going was not too difficult. The ground was level, and the muddy banks were frozen enough to hold his weight but rough enough to offer traction for walking. Ahead of him, the westering sun was breaking through the canopy of clouds. The red rays of the last light of day made the crystalline sleet at his feet shimmer like rubies.

 

Giogi had to slow down once he reached the lowest cascade of water at the base of Spring Hill. The red light had subsided to indigo; the marshy fields ended and thick woods began, and his path begin to climb a steep slope, over large rocks and boulders slick with ice. Giogi tucked his mittens in his pockets to keep them dry as he scrabbled for handholds to keep his balance.

 

A third of the way from the top of the hill, the stream crossed the road that wound around the hill to the temple. A simple but sturdy stone bridge spanned the water, high enough to allow someone moving up the stream to walk beneath it.

 

By the time Giogi reached the bridge, it would have been easier and safer—and possibly faster—to climb the banks and take the road. Yet the nobleman couldn't bring himself to abandon his original course, even though he was cold and tired and getting a little hungry. When he was a boy, other children called the cascades Selune's Stair, and they said that if a person climbed to the top of them, he or she was supposed to get his or her heart's desire. Of course, one was supposed to climb them in the water by moonlight, but Giogi figured Selune would make allowances considering the season and weather.

 

A tiny, niggling voice in his head told him he was wasting his time and energy playing silly games. The voice sounded suspiciously like Aunt Dorath, so Giogi ignored it and continued climbing, leaving the road behind.

 

So far, he'd been pretty impressed with himself. His skill at scrabbling up the slope and leaping from one rock to another had not deteriorated with maturity. He might not have looked quite as agile as a mountain goat, but he felt it—until he reached the final cascade.

 

The last cascade was larger and steeper than the rest, and at its base was a wide pool. More mist hung in the air, so the rocks were damper there. Giogi leaped between two large boulders in the twilight, hit a slick spot, and went sprawling on a ledge that hung out over the pool.

 

He was bruised but otherwise unharmed. The niggling Aunt Dorath-like voice inside his head said, "I told you so," and Giogi began to think he would be lucky if he could reach the top before the light failed and he fell in the drink.

 

The sky at that moment grew very, very dark. Giogi hesitated. Maybe it's just a darker than average storm cloud over the setting sun, he hoped. He waited on the ledge for a minute, then another, for light to return. The forest around him remained dark.

 

Giogi realized he'd miscalculated. The sun had set already, and twilight in the dense woods had been very short. The moon would be full tonight, though, he remembered. It should rise soon, now that the sun has set, he reassured himself.

 

In the meantime, the nobleman couldn't help feeling there was something malicious about the darkness. It was filled with rustling and twig-snapping, which he could hear uncomfortably well over the rush of the cascade. Unwilling to wait for Selune's light, Giogi crawled toward the cascade and began climbing the rocks by feel.

 

Something scaly brushed against Giogi's hand, and he pulled it back with a jerk, lost his balance, and tumbled sideways, landing with a splash in the pool of water below.

 

Giogi surfaced immediately, sputtering water and soaked to the skin. The water was only three feet deep, but that was more than enough to submerge his dodders, and the young noble could feel icy water creeping down his stockings.

 

A beam of moonlight broke through the clouds in the east, illuminating the pool around him. Giogi stilled a shriek and began to back away. In the hip-high water all around him bobbed the bloated corpses of men.

 

As he stepped backward, one of the corpses in front of him sprang to life, lunging out of the water at him like a trout striking at a lure. Rows of needle-sharp teeth gnashed inches from his face. Giogi shrieked without inhibition, terrified.

 

He recognized the creatures from Uncle Drone's books. They weren't just corpses, but lacedons, undead monsters that preyed on the flesh of the drowned. Giogi took another step backward, but the lacedons had him surrounded. The nobleman had just enough presence of mind to draw his foil.

 

A second lacedon breached directly in front of him with its hands raised over its head. Giogi could smell the fetid, mossy scent of the creature's breath as it brought its decayed face close to his own. Then the monster's sharp, algae-covered fingernails struck at his forehead. Giogi jabbed his weapon into the creature's flesh, but the lacedon wriggled itself free and swam off.

 

The remaining lacedons swam slowly around him, thumping up against his legs, trying to knock him off balance, and occasionally breaking the surface to leer and gnash and slash at his face. They're playing with their food, Giogi thought, fighting back his nausea.

 

Blood dripping from his wounded brow obscured his vision in one eye and splashed into the water—spurring the undead into a frenzy. Giogi screamed again and stabbed at the hideous beings, trying to clear a path to the shore. It was hard to lunge into the water accurately, though, and there were too many of them to concentrate on one direction at once, without risking attack in the rear.

 

One of the lacedons toward the back of the pack reared up and began walking forward, so Giogi had a better view of its scaly body, water-rotted face, and bulging, yellow eyes. Another lacedon adopted an erect stance, and another and another, until all the corpses advanced on him like soldiers.

 

The noble turned in the frigid water, unable to decide on a direction to run. He caught sight of the glimmering gemstone in the top of his boot. The light of the finder's stone pulsed in the darkness, even beneath the water.

 

Giogi drew the finder's stone out, hoping the light it would cast might frighten off the monsters, or at least hurt their eyes. He tried to recall the bit of rhyme he knew as a child: Vampires fear the morning's lights, something, something, something, and wights.

 

The finder's stone cast a bright beam to the shoreline, but its light had no effect on the undead monsters' behavior.

 

The undead began gurgling like the drowned men they were. From the way they raised their claws in unison, Giogi guessed they were making some sort of battle cry. They all leered at him with their tanged mouths. I'm finished, the nobleman thought.

 

From the top of the cascade behind Giogi came a great roar. Before Giogi's eyes, the lacedons' bodies ignited into cool, blue flames. The corpses slumped back into the pool. The water in the stream sparkled with the blue fire still consuming the undead. The pool turned murky with the disintegrated bodies. Then the murkiness washed downstream, and the pool's water was clear again.

 

Giogi saw that only two monsters remained in the water with him, both to his left. As the young noble splashed in the direction of the right-hand bank, praying the creatures would be unable to follow him on land, a dark, hulking shape plunged from the top of the cascade, over his head, and into the pool beyond. Giogi threw himself out of the water and landed with a thud on the rocky shore, knocking all the air out of himself.

 

More splashing and a second roar came from the pool behind him. It took a moment before Giogi could summon the energy to roll over to see what had joined the lacedons in the water.

 

The headless body of a lacedon floated past the near shore. The second lacedon lay on the opposite bank, pinned beneath the paws of a huge black bear. The monster struggled feebly before the bear ripped it, throat to belly, with a single swipe of its paw.

 

"Sweet Selune," Giogioni whispered.

 

The bear looked up at him when he spoke. Giogi froze. He'd never seen a bear so large in all of Cormyr. The creature's coat was as dark as the night, except for two silvery gray, crescent-shaped patches, one on its underbelly, the other on its forehead.

 

The bear stared at the nobleman for a moment with its head tilted to the side. It snuffled, and great clouds of steam rose from the bear's nostrils. Then it turned and bounded into the darkness of the woods.

 

Giogi pulled himself up the last cascade and left the dark woods behind him. Atop Spring Hill, a moonlit meadow surrounded the temple. Giogi collapsed on the grass beside the water, shivering and gasping for breath. His head was on fire, but the rest of him was freezing.

 

In all his years in Immersea, he'd never been attacked by undead. What were lacedons doing in a stream sacred to Selune? Did Mother Lleddew know about them? Giogi wondered. Is it possible she's getting too old to defend the hill from evil?

 

In the east, the sleet-filled clouds began to break up, as if evaporated by the full moon's light. Moonbeams shimmered across the Wyvernwater, along the Immer Stream, and up Selune's Stair. The moonbeams continued past Giogi, turning the stream, which meandered through the meadow, into a silver ribbon.

 

Giogi pulled himself to his feet and followed the stream to the temple, water squelching in his boots with his every step. Silvery, moonlit water flowed from inside the temple and down a channel cut into its steps. Giogi climbed the steps beside the channel and entered the House of the Lady.

 

The House of the Lady, the temple Mother Lleddew had built to Selune, was really not a house, but an open-air shrine. A circle of white stone pillars rose from the temple's floor and supported the domed roof. There were no walls. The rising moon's light shone past the pillars and silvered the spring-fed pool bubbling in the center of the temple.

 

A slender young girl in an acolyte's robes sat beside the pool, gazing into the spring's depths. The ends of her long tresses trailed along the surface of the water. By some trick of the light, her hair appeared as silver as the water, so it seemed that water flowed from her hair into the pool.

 

Giogi rang the silver bell hanging from one of the pillars beside the water channel.

 

The girl looked up without surprise. She had dark skin, a lovely smile, and radiant eyes. She was very pretty, but seemed far too young for her calling. She couldn't have been more than sixteen. "Blessings of the full moon," she greeted Giogi.

 

"Blessings of the full moon," he responded. "I'm looking for Mother Lleddew."

 

"Are you sure you're not looking for your heart's desire?" the girl asked with a grin.

 

"What?" Giogi replied with confusion.

 

"You did just climb Selune's Stair by the full moon," the girl pointed out.

 

"Well, yes, I did," Giogi admitted. "All I really wanted, though, was to see Mother Lleddew."

 

"She's on a night-stalk," the girl said. "I'm here to watch over the temple until she returns."

 

Giogi sighed with frustration. A night-stalk was a sacred ritual practiced by devout worshipers of Selune. Lleddew would be walking in solitary communion with her goddess until the moon set. Suddenly Giogi remembered the lacedon attack. "Look, I don't mean to alarm you, but there were evil things out in the woods tonight. You shouldn't be alone here, and Mother Lleddew shouldn't be walking alone out there."

 

The girl smiled with amusement as she stood and drifted toward him. She shimmered like a moonbeam when she moved, and her hair glittered like a cascade of water. "You are the one in danger, Giogioni," she said earnestly. "You can speak with Mother Lleddew tomorrow, after noon. For now, though, I think I'd better send you home."

 

"I can't leave you alone here," the nobleman argued.

 

"Kneel," the girl directed him, "so I can have a look at that cut on your head."

 

Giogi obeyed, curious to see if so young an acolyte really had power to heal his wound.

 

The girl bent over Giogi and kissed his forehead.

 

The fire in his head flared momentarily, then subsided completely. Giogi swayed dizzily, then looked up, relieved of all discomfort. "That was wonder—" The noble halted in midsentence. His head spun around in confusion and dripped water all about the Calimshan carpeting.

 

He knelt in his own bedroom before a roaring fire.

 

"I must be dreaming," said Giogi, "or hallucinating because of my head wound."

 

The nobleman pinched and shook himself, but he didn't wake to find himself dying of exposure on the side of Spring Hill. He was still in his own bedroom. The bedclothes held the family coat of arms, a green wyvern on a yellow field. The portrait over the fireplace was of his mother and father. The indigo seashells he'd brought from Westgate lay strewn about the dresser. "It must be my room," he said.

 

Still confused, he muttered to himself as he stripped off his soaked clothing. "F'irst I was there, and now I'm here. She kissed me, and I appeared here. I didn't know acolytes could do that, but if she wasn't an acolyte, what was she doing in the temple in an acolyte's gown, telling me when I could see Mother Lleddew? And how did she know my name?"

 

Giogi slid into bed beneath the covers. He lay there wondering if he hadn't just dreamed all about Spring Hill, Selune's Stair, the lacedons, the crescent-marked bear, and the girl acolyte. When the chill had worn off his flesh, he slid out of bed again and padded over to the pile of wet clothing.

 

Giogi shook his head as he pulled a robe on. He slipped from his bedroom, tiptoed down the hall to the red room, and knocked softly on the door. He had to share his story with someone.

 

"Mistress Cat?" he whispered. When no one answered, he knocked again.

 

"Whuzzah? Come in," a sleepy voice called out.

 

Giogi opened the door.

 

The red room was well furnished, but Thomas kept it empty of personal items, like a room at an inn. The red velvet hangings and the oaken bed, dresser, chair, and chest were all new and sturdy—not an heirloom in the lot. The guest room belonged to no one, which is how it felt to those who stayed in it.

 

By the light from the lamp flickering on the dresser, Giogi could see Cat curled up in one corner of the bed, the blankets all wrapped tightly around her. Her coppery hair was strewn over the pillows. Her robes lay draped over the chair before the fireside.

 

Cat sat up in the bed, looking drowsy but lovely. "I asked Thomas to wake me when you returned," she said, pushing her hair out of her face.

 

"Um, he doesn't know I'm back yet. I fell in the Immer Stream and a bear saved me from lacedons, and then this lovely girl kissed me and teleported me here."

 

Tying a sheet around her body, Cat slid out from under the covers and walked to the doorway, where Giogi stood. She put a hand to his forehead, her brow knit with concern. "You don't have a fever," she said after a moment.

 

"I'm fine, really. You know, your hand is so nice and warm.'

 

Cat smiled and said, "Perhaps you ought to lie down, anyway." She took Giogi by the arm and steered him back to his own room.

 

Giogi, babbling on, let himself be led. "You know, the guardian said that I'd been kissed by Selune. I think she's just done it again, Selune that is, through one of her priestesses. You see, the kiss cured the scratch the lacedons gave me, which was nice, the kiss, not the cut, I mean. It also brought me home, though, which was strange but nice, too."

 

"Here we go," Cat said, steering him into his own room.

 

"But still, it's rather disturbing to be kissed by Selune," Giogi said with a sigh, "since it is one of those things the guardian is always making a fuss about. I know I'm going to dream tonight about all those things—death cry of prey, and so on. Aunt Dorath says she just ignored the dreams, but I don't see how she could," Giogi said with annoyed disbelief.

 

"Lie down, Master Giogioni," Cat ordered, pressing him down on the bed. "You can rest and talk." As he lay back on his bed, Cat fluffed up his pillows and propped them behind him.

 

"Did you find anyone who knew about the spur?" Cat asked lightly, seating herself at the foot of the bed.

 

"Well, Aunt Dorath knows something, but she won't tell me what. She's being absurdly stubborn. I get the idea she wants to carry her secret to the grave. I talked with Sudacar. He didn't know about the spur, but he knew a lot about my father." Giogi's eyes shone when he asked the mage, "Did you know my father was a hero? Not just an adventurer, but a real hero? I went on a mission for the crown, but it's not really the same as adventuring. It must be interesting being an adventurer."

 

"Why don't you try it and find out?" Cat asked with a smile.

 

"Oh, I couldn't. It's just not done. Aunt Dorath would have kittens," the nobleman explained.

 

"But your father did it," Cat pointed out.

 

"He must have been very brave," Giogi said, shaking his head slowly as if to deny he had that much courage.

 

"To go out into the wilderness or to defy your Aunt Dorath?" Cat asked with a chuckle.

 

Giogi laughed, too. "Both," he said.

 

"What could your aunt do?" Cat asked. "Cut off your money?"

 

"No. I have my own money," Giogi explained. "Aunt Dorath is family, though. I can't just ignore her."

 

"But if you were off adventuring, she couldn't bother you," Cat said slyly.

 

"But she would pounce on me whenever I returned to Immersea," Giogi retorted.

 

"Then don't ever return," Cat suggested.

 

"Never return?" Giogi said with shock. "Immersea's my home. I couldn't stay away." Giogi's face fell in disappointment as he realized he'd just talked himself out of a dream. He justified his inaction further by saying, "Besides, I wouldn't know how I should go about adventuring. Not the first thing. Do you have to register for it or something?"

 

Cat laughed. Brushing her hand through her hair, she slid up the bed so that she sat much closer to Giogi. "First thing you should do is try to look the part. Hold still," she ordered.

 

The mage reached her hand behind Giogi's ear, and Giogi felt a pinch at his earlobe. When Cat took her hand away, Giogi reached up to rub his earlobe. Attached to his ear was one of Cat's small hoop earrings. He tried to pull it off.

 

"Ow!" he whined.

 

"You can't just yank it off," Cat warned. "It's pierced through. You have to slide it out."

 

"You put a hole in my ear!" he said, disbelieving, touching the maimed lobe delicately.

 

"Don't be such a baby," Cat chided. "If you want, you can take the earring out, and the hole will heal over."

 

Giogi sniffed. "How do I look?"

 

Cat leaned back and eyed him critically. "Like a merchant. You need something else." She took a lock of Giogi's brown hair and plaited it, fastening it together with some green beads she took off a chain hanging about her neck.

 

"Well?"

 

"Not quite right," Cat said. "You look like a sailor."

 

From the open doorway came a polite cough. Giogi looked up in surprise.

 

"Oh, Thomas. I took a dive in the Immer Stream, I'm afraid. Could you see to those wet things, please?"

 

Thomas slipped into the room and began gathering up Giogi's dripping clothes, surveying the damage to each article. He made a special point to keep his eyes averted from the bed.

 

Last year, when his master's aunt had tried her best to match Giogi with Minda Lluth, Thomas had not approved. The lady had been far too frivolous, but at least she had been a lady. He wasn't sure where he would classify this Cat person, but he knew ladies did not sit on gentleman's beds, wrapped in nothing but bed sheets.

 

"I'm afraid these boots may be beyond cleaning, sir," Thomas reported, trying to sound regretful about it.

 

"Oh, no. We can't lose the boots," Cat said with mock alarm. She jumped from the bed and took the dodders from Thomas She set them down before the fireplace and whispered an incantation. A small whirlwind of steam began to rise from inside each boot and danced up the flue. After a minute, the steam dissipated. Cat brought them to Giogi's bedside. "There you are, Master Giogioni. As good as new."

 

"I say. What a neat trick. Wasn't that a neat trick, Thomas?"

 

"Most entertaining, sir," Thomas replied coolly, holding the other soaked articles. "I've been keeping dinner warm. Will you be down to dine shortly, sir, or shall I bring up trays?"

 

Something in Thomas's tone warned Giogi that it would be unwise to choose the more amusing course. "We will be down as soon as we've dressed," the nobleman replied, trying to sound cool and undaunted by his servant's disapproval.

 

"Very good, sir." Thomas bowed and exited.

 

"Trays would have been just fine with me," Cat said.

 

"Perhaps, but not with Thomas. Dinner tends to be formal when we have guests. We'll have to do him proud and dress to the nines, or he'll be—disappointed."

 

Cat looked down at the carpeting. "I washed out my robes, but they're still wet. I'm afraid they didn't get too clean in any case."

 

Giogi struck his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Oh, of course. Forgive me. I should have thought of it before. We'll dig something up from the chest in the lilac room."

 

Giogi picked up a lamp and led his guest out into the hall. He opened the door to the lilac room.

 

"How lovely," the mage whispered, stepping inside. She ran her fingers along the delicate silk wall hangings, the crepe bed curtains, the intricately carved dressing table, and the mother-of-pearl jewelry box. "This was your mother's room, wasn't it?" she whispered.

 

"Yes. Do you like it?" Giogi asked hopefully.

 

"I've never seen any place so lovely," Cat said softly.

 

"Thomas thought you might be more comfortable in the red room for some reason. Shall I tell him to light a fire and turn down this bed for you, instead?" Giogi offered.

 

"Oh, you needn't bother him about it. I can do that myself," Cat insisted.

 

"All right, then. There are scads of pretty things in that chest there. Several years out of fashion, I'm afraid."

 

"I'm sure it's all perfect," Cat said, smiling gratefully at the young nobleman.

 

"I'll leave you to it, then," Giogi said, backing out of the room.

 

He returned to his own room to dress. Pulling on his breeches, he caught sight of his bare-chested reflection in the leaded window glass. The nobleman posed menacingly, half shutting his eyes, trying to imagine campfires burning instead of a cozy fireplace, and nervous horses staked to ropes instead of comfortable chairs. At length he grimaced and turned away.

 

"I do look like a sailor," he said with a sigh. He tugged the window drapes closed to avoid catching another glimpse of his scrawny, unheroic figure.

 

Had Giogi looked out the window instead of at his reflection, he would have seen two furtive figures slipping into his carriage house. The young noble's mind was on his wardrobe, though, and far from the machinations of his relatives.

 

12

 

The Ass's Pocket

 

Olive stamped her hoof and cursed Cat for the twentieth time. Why do mages always have to be so damned efficient? she wondered. As if it's not bad enough she's going to betray good ol' Giogi, she's got to go and leave me locked in the carriage house so I can't get out to stop her. I knew that woman was trouble from the moment I set eyes on her.

 

With some effort, Olive had gotten her burro mouth around the door handle and turned it, but found that Cat had taken the precaution of sliding the bolt on the outside of the door. Ordinarily, given sufficient time, Olive could have worked the bolt over with a wire or something, but hooves severely limited her dexterity. I'd give a small fortune for a thumb, she thought, rattling the door handle with her teeth.

 

The burro paced the carriage house like a nervous cat. I may never make Giogi understand I'm not a burro. I've got to get out of here and find someone a little brighter than he and powerful enough to change me back into a halfling. Then I have to get back here and warn Giogi that Flattery is one of his relatives, as well as a murdering lunatic, and that Cat is really a viper.

 

Olive made a mental list of the few halfling adventurers in town who might be trusted with the secret of her awful and embarrassing transformation, and began thinking up ways to communicate with them. She found that with some effort she could scratch her own name in the dirt with a forehoof.

 

Now, if I could just get out of this carriage house, corner one of my people, and make them hold still for an hour while I demonstrate my abilities, I'm all set, Olive thought.

 

After an hour of planning, though, she grew tired of anticipating her escape and the heroics that would follow. Each version she imagined ended in a spine-tingling tale of derring-do and last-minute rescues, but all ignored the problem of getting out of the carriage house.

 

With nothing better to do, she began exploring the carriage house more fully. The last rays of the setting sun broke through the clouds and streamed through the windows, so there was enough light for her to make out her surroundings.

 

On the other side of the buggy was quite an organized assortment of adventuring gear. Not the kind of stuff one would expect to find in the carriage house of a man-about-town, Olive mused. This was where all the things that Giogi loaded on me this morning came from.

 

Everything Olive had carted into the catacombs was stashed neatly in a long line of open chests and crates, which also held sacks and backpacks, tents, blankets, saddlebags, chains, knives and whetstones, camp dishes, a beat-up shield, a Talis deck, dice, a backgammon board, mirrors, snares, nets, magnifying glasses, a few bottles of wine, and even lockpicks. In the loft overhead Olive could spy a few more chests, but she was unable to navigate the ladder to the loft. Gardening tools hung from the back wall, beside varying sizes of tack and saddles.

 

The halfling studied everything. Most of the equipment was old and worn, though well maintained. In the end, however, her interest in the carriage house's trove waned. A burro had limited options with human tools.

 

I'm going to die of boredom, Olive thought, walking back into her stall. Cat had left Nameless's portrait leaning against the wall, presumably to prevent a repeat of Flattery's flame-flinging at their next rendezvous. The sun had set, but in the gray twilight within the building Olive could see the splotch of black paint on the portrait's back, which blotted out the bard's given name. The paint had begun peeling from the heat of Flattery's outburst.

 

Let's have a closer look, shall we? Olive thought. She brushed against the back of the canvas with her muzzle, and paint flaked away. She had to step back to focus both her eyes.

 

Nameless, you aren't nameless anymore, she thought excitedly. Your name is ... Finder? Finder Wyvernspur. That's a peculiar sort of name. Sounds like a—like the finder's stone!

 

Could the stone have been the Nameless Bard's? Olive wondered. Is that why Elminster gave it to Alias? Is it only coincidence that it's fallen into the hands of another Wyvernspur?

 

Olive's nostrils twitched at the smell of the charred painting. Was Flattery's violent reaction to the painting merely a reflection of his hatred for his entire family? No, Olive realized. Flattery's first words upon flaming the portrait were "curse him." His anger had been directed most specifically at Finder. Finder's been in magical exile for nearly two hundred years, though. How could Flattery have recognized him? Has Flattery lived that long and remained as young as he looks by using magic?

 

Well, I'm never going to answer all these questions by just thinking about them, Olive sighed. I need to get out of here.

 

She left the stall to stand next to the outside door: she planned to try to slip out the next time someone opened it. I have to be ready to spring into action. I have to be as vigilant as a spider in a web, able to strike with the speed of a snake, as fierce and as wild as a panther, she thought.

 

As she waited for her chance, Olive fell asleep on her feet.

 

Voices out in the garden woke her. Darkness had fallen completely. Olive stiffened with alertness. The carriage house door opened a crack. Olive waited for her chance.

 

"All clear," a male voice whispered.

 

The door opened farther, but it was blocked by two bodies. A man and a woman slipped in quickly and closed the door behind them. I could get that door open with my teeth if they would just move away from it, Olive thought.

 

"Steele, this is crazy," the woman hissed. Olive recognized Julia's voice. The man unshuttered his lantern, and its glow illuminated Julia's lovely features. She looked less haughty at the moment. Her face was drawn with exhaustion, and her eyes were glazed with confusion.

 

The halfling stepped back into the shadow of the ruined buggy. Olive wouldn't put it past the little witch to exact revenge on the burro for foiling her plan to drug Giogi.

 

"Sister, dear," the man hissed, "would you stop whining and try to show some spine?"

 

Interesting advice, Olive thought, from a man who tortures kobolds and nearly had his own spine crushed in one of their traps.

 

Steele held his lantern up to survey the interior of the carriage house.

 

There's a simple way, Olive realized, to tell Steele apart from Frefford, Nameless, and Flattery, aside from his age and the birthmark by his lip. Frefford had a sympathetic, pleasant smile, which would be impossible for the others to imitate. Nameless's years of exile and subsequent tortures had taken a lot out of him, so he generally stared into space with a stern, thoughtful look—void of haughtiness, unlike Steele's face.

 

Steele's demeanor most resembled Flattery's. They had the same cold, calculating look, and, Olive suspected, the same icy laugh. Except for that moment when he'd been burning down the barn—and had resembled a mad dog—Flattery's coolness seemed imperturbable. Steele, on the other hand, was unable to hide a desperation that lay just beneath the surface. And, while Olive doubted he was half as powerful as the mage Flattery, Steele managed to look twice as arrogant.

 

"You still haven't told me why, in the worst possible weather, we've come all the way out here from Redstone just to sneak into this awful barn," Julia said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

 

"It's a carriage house, not a barn," Steel corrected, "and we're here because it's unthinkable that our weak-willed, idiot Cousin Giogi should have the spur. It should be in the hands of someone who knows how to wield power. Someone who knows how to make the best use of it. Someone of strength and valor."

 

Olive recalled how Alias had once called Nameless a man with overweening vanity. No doubt it runs in the family, the halfling thought. Compared to Steele and Flattery, though, Nameless is downright modest.

 

"Steele, would you get to the point," Julia snapped.

 

"You said Giogi had a burro," Steele said.

 

"Yes," Julia replied. "A vicious little creature that I would rather not run into again." She looked around the interior of the carriage house nervously.

 

The feeling is mutual, I'm sure, Olive thought.

 

"I need to find that burro," Steele said.

 

Olive backed deeper into the shadows. She didn't especially want to be found by a known torturer of kobolds. If only Julia would move away from that door, Olive thought.

 

"What's so special about the burro?" Julia asked, leaning wearily against the door.

 

"It cost me a small fortune," Steele told her, "but I paid the priest at the church of Waukeen to perform a divination for me. I asked where the spur was. He told me: 'In the little ass's pocket.'"

 

"If it's in Giogi's pocket, why are we out here?" Julia complained.

 

"It's not in Giogi's pocket," Steele replied with exasperation. "It's in the little ass's pocket." Very slowly, as if talking to a child, he explained to his sister, "A burro is a little ass."

 

Wherever I go, Olive whined silently, people are always blaming me when something goes missing. It's not fair. I've never even laid eyes on this stupid spur. Besides—

 

"Asses don't have pockets," Julia snapped.

 

Took the words right out of my mouth, Olive thought.

 

"Obviously it's some sort of riddle," Steele said. Feigning patience, Steele continued to explain to Julia in a slow, steady voice, "The spur could be in the burro's saddlebags, or maybe Giogi made it a little jacket—that's the sort of fool thing he's always doing. Maybe the spur is inside the burro. Then I'll have to skin it."

 

Olive's heart thudded in her chest as she looked around for some place safer to hide than the shadows. This isn't fair, she thought again. I haven't got the spur in my pocket. Unless— unless it's in Jade's magic purse, she realized.

 

Steele stepped into the stall that had been Olive's. "Waukeen's wits," he snarled, "what a mess."

 

"What is it?" Julia asked, too nervous to stray from her post by the door.

 

"Looks like there's been a fire in here," Steele said. "Maybe Giogi had an accident with a lamp."

 

"Look at his carriage," Julia said. "He told Aunt Dorath last night that there was nothing wrong with it."

 

Steele stepped out of the burro's stall. "Something snapped the wheel in two. I've never seen a break like that before." He shook his head and turned to continue his search. "Maybe he keeps the burro with the mare," Steele muttered. He opened the door to Daisyeye's stall.

 

Olive's stomach suddenly felt very queasy. Lady of Luck, don't let it be the oats, she prayed silently.

 

Daisyeye nickered.

 

"Easy, girl," Steele whispered, handing the horse a handful of oats. "You have any company in here? No."

 

Olive held her breath and tried to keep herself from lowing in pain. Unable to double over, her first instinct was to lie down. You can't do that, Olive-girl! she berated herself, that's the worst thing you can do. You need to walk around. Fear of discovery by the spur hunters, though, kept Olive frozen in place.

 

"Aren't you a beauty," Steele said to Daisyeye. "Giogi always has the best horses," he bemoaned, "and then names them all the same idiot name."

 

"Maybe the burro's out in the garden," Julia suggested.

 

"In weather like this?" Steele shook his head. "Giogi's too softhearted to leave an animal out in the cold and wet."

 

"Maybe he rented it or boards it out."

 

"I checked all the other stables in town. I found four mules, but no asses anywhere. No, it has to be here somewhere. Do you think he was stupid enough to leave it tied to his carriage?"

 

He's going to search this side of the carriage house! Olive thought with panic. She hugged herself nervously in the darkness. I'll never be able to fend off both of them. What should I do? Think, Olive-girl, she ordered herself, massaging her temples with her fingers.

 

Olive's eyes widened with the sudden realization of what she was doing. She brought her fingers down in front of her and wiggled them in disbelief. I have fingers! Arms! I have arms! Olive looked down at her body. She was a halfling once again. Thank Tymora! she thought.

 

Steele's lantern light began to creep around to the back of the buggy. Olive slipped as quietly as she could toward the ladder to the loft. She tested the first step gingerly. It felt quite sturdy.

 

She scampered up the ladder, rolled into the loft, and nearly choked herself to death.

 

Upon her transformation back to a halfling, her halter had slipped around her neck. A strap of the leather caught on the top of the ladder as she dove over the top. Olive rolled back and extricated herself quickly from the leather binding, but not before she'd gagged out loud.

 

"What was that?" Julia demanded as a small bit of hay drifted down in the lantern light.

 

"A cat or an owl or something," Steele insisted. He stood beneath the ladder and held his lamp over his head, looking into the loft.

 

"Steele," Julia said with the tone of a woman who would put up with no more nonsense, "burro's cannot climb ladders." She's right, Steele, Olive thought. Better listen to her.

 

"You didn't even know what a burro was until this morning," Steele pointed out. "How would you know?"

 

"It walks around on four feet, Steele. For heaven's sake, be reasonable." She slapped her arms at her sides and snapped, "I don't know why I've put up with this madness of yours. I agreed to help you sneak the spur from the crypt," Julia said, desperately trying to convince her brother of her loyalty. "It's not my fault the door opened twelve days early and someone else stole the spur."

 

"We only have Drone's word for that," Steele said.

 

"Why would Uncle Drone lie about that?" Julia asked with disbelief.

 

"Think, Julia. Giogi is away for three seasons, supposedly on a mysterious mission for the crown. He comes back late one evening. The crypt alarm goes off the next morning."

 

"You think Giogi was using the spur on his trip?" Julia asked.

 

"Precisely," Steele said. "Uncle Drone was covering for him, just like he covered for Cole. Drone must have forgotten to turn off the magical alarm so Giogi could return the spur when he got back from his trip. Uncle Drone told us he couldn't see who the thief was—because he didn't want to give Giogi away." Steele continued by digging through the chests of adventuring equipment and looking in every tiny nook of the carriage house.

 

"But if Giogi went into the crypt to return the spur," Julia objected, "why was it missing?"

 

Steele shrugged. "Giogi changed his mind at the last moment. Not realizing the alarm had alerted everyone at Redstone, he thought it didn't matter if he kept the spur or not."

 

"But Giogi went into the catacombs looking for the thief," Julia pointed out.

 

"Only to keep up the appearance of innocence," Steele said.

 

"Why would Drone say the thief was locked in the catacombs?"

 

"To stall for time, so I didn't have a divination done sooner. I'm on to their game now. Without Uncle Drone, Giogi is no match for me." Steele thumped his fist on the buggy. It wobbled a little on its three good wheels. "There's no burro in here," he growled at last. "Where else could it be?"

 

"Giogi could have left it with a friend," Julia suggested. "Shaver Cormaeril keeps a private stable. It could be there."

 

"That's a possibility. Let's go." Steele returned to the doorway.

 

"Where?"

 

"To the Cormaeril estate, of course."

 

"Steele, it's dark and cold and slicker than oil out there Couldn't we just head home and check in the morning?"

 

"No. It will be easier in the dark, and I need you to keep watch," he said, shuttering his lantern. He pushed open the door.

 

"Steele, I want to go home," Julia said with an iron determination.

 

"Fine," her brother snapped. He paused, silhouetted by the moonlight shining in the doorway. "Go home. You're useless, anyway." Steele disappeared into the darkness.

 

Julia stood in the open doorway, and Olive thought she heard the noblewoman sob. After a few moments, though, Julia fled the carriage house without bothering to close the door. Olive heard Julia whisper, "Steele, wait up."

 

Still in the loft, Olive rolled over and sighed with relief. She stretched out on the straw, wriggling her fingers and toes in the hay. She was once again the lovely, talented halfling she'd been born and bred to be. Even better, the queasiness had left her. It wasn't the oats, after all, she realized. Probably an effect of the transformation.

 

She was still wearing the clothing she'd worn the night before. She patted down her vest pockets. Jade's magical purse was still there. "I am an ass," Olive whispered with a chuckle, "for not having figured it out before." Who else, she thought, would have been so bold and cunning as to steal the Wyvernspur's prize heirloom out from under their noses? Who else could have gotten past the guardian? Only my protege, Jade.

 

Olive's pride decayed within moments. Jade would never steal anything again. The halfling's stomach cramped up again, this time with renewed anguish over Jade's death. She curled into a ball with her fists clenched, trying to fight back her misery.

 

It was no use. The emotion surged through her and took control. Olive wept, something she hadn't done since her mother had died. She lay sobbing in the straw until she was weak with the effort and had given herself a headache.

 

She lay there a while longer feeling empty inside. Finally her determination to avenge Jade's death returned. Flattery will pay, Olive thought. He may think he's tough, slapping Cat around and murdering my Jade, but he's about to learn otherwise.

 

Once I return the spur to Giogi, we'll find out what its secret powers are and use them against Flattery, she thought.

 

Olive sat up and wiped the residue of the tears from her face. She sniffed, looked at her sleeve, and realized that the dirt and grime she'd accumulated as a burro remained with her. If I'm going to enlist Giogi's help, though, she thought, I need to present a more formidable appearance. I need a bath, clean clothes, a decent night's sleep, and time to think up a plan. I'll contact Giogi in the morning, she decided.

 

Olive stood, brushed the straw off her clothing, and climbed down from the loft. In another minute, she was outside Giogi's front gate and skating her way along the ice-covered roads, back to her room at Maela's boarding house.

 

*****

 

Giogi stood at the bottom of the staircase, watching Cat descend. He was sure there wasn't a more beautiful woman in all of Cormyr. She wore a low-cut gown of lavender satin covered with golden lace. Her long hair was fastened high on her head with a matching golden lace net.

 

"Is this all right?" Cat asked, halting two steps above him.

 

"I don't think I'd ever seen mother wear that," Giogi said, trying hard to avoid staring at the dress's decolletage. I didn't know she had anything so, um—"

 

"Revealing?" Cat suggested, crossing her hands coyly over the gown's neckline, which was nowhere near her neck.

 

"Small," Giogi said, recovering his wits. "My mother was not as slender as you." He offered Cat his arm.

 

"Not while she was your mother, perhaps," Cat replied, laying her fingertips on his sleeve and moving down beside him, "but as a girl, she must have been. I found this at the very bottom of the chest. It might have been something she wore when she came out."

 

"Oh, she was never a debutante," Giogi explained as he escorted the mage through the main hall. "Her father, Shar of Suzail, was a carpenter. He made furniture, of course, but he also supervised the timberwork of all the bridges in Cormyr, and the locks at Wheloon, and they're all still standing. He made a lot of money, but, according to father, he was very humble. King Rhigaerd II, Azoun's father, offered him a peerage for his work, but he turned it down. He said he couldn't do both—work and be a lord. Old Shar begged Father to rescue his daughter, though, when she was kidnapped by an evil mage. That's how my parents met."

 

"Your mother would have been presented to court, though, when she married your father."

 

"Yes, I guess she must have."

 

"Perhaps she wore this then. I didn't want to borrow anything too valuable, but this one fit so well. I did pick out something especially nice for you."

 

"Pardon?" Giogi asked.

 

Cat halted and held Giogi back from the dining room door "Here," she said, pulling something out of her sleeve. "I found it in the jewelry box." Cat held out a platinum headpiece and latched it about Giogi's forehead. "There. That's just right. It gives you the look of nobility."

 

"It feels funny," Giogi said, shifting it about on his head.

 

Cat laughed. "You'll get used to it," she said, steering him toward the dining room door.

 

Giogi turned the handle and led the enchantress in to dinner. The nobleman was heartened to see that their fancy attire had pacified Thomas considerably. The manservant dropped his earlier reserve and served dinner with considerable courtesy. Giogi caught the servant smiling at him once and sneaking appreciative glances at Cat often.

 

Thomas wished his master had removed the rakish jewelry in his ear and hair, but the headdress actually pleased the servant. He decided it gave Giogi a commanding air—something he'd always lacked. As for the woman, though her earlier slip in decorum marked her of "lower" birth, her speech revealed a certain amount of education.

 

He could easily see that his master's interest extended beyond the woman's ability as a spell-caster. It would be impossible not to do so. The woman's attractiveness startled Thomas each time he looked at her.

 

Ever alert to the dangers that beautiful women presented to a man of his master's fortunes, Thomas considered carefully what course he should take to ensure that Giogioni did not entangle himself with this woman on a personal level. Such a situation, he decided as he served the soup, could only lead to scandal.

 

The servant considered letting news of the woman's presence leak to Dorath, but he dismissed that idea almost immediately. Giogi's aunt would take too heavy-handed an approach, the kind that drove couples closer together. Similarly, Thomas realized while presenting the roast duck, a cautionary word of his own to the young nobleman could backfire drastically.

 

By the time he cleared the dinner plates and served the apples and cheese, Thomas felt the need to consult with someone who not onlv cared for Giogi, but who understood the subtlety of the situation, someone who could also keep an eye on Cat and make sure she wasn't using her magic to influence him. The servant realized that he would have to wait until later for such a consultation, after Giogi had retired.

 

"So," Cat began after Thomas had retreated to Servant Land for the final time, "this man you went to see, Sudacar, couldn't tell you how your father used the spur?"

 

"No, but we think my father could use it to fly."

 

"It must have more power than that," Cat said after sipping her brandy, "or Flattery wouldn't have sent me after it. He can already fly."

 

"Well, Sudacar suggested I speak with Mother Lleddew. She adventured with my father once, so she may know something more."

 

"Who is Mother Lleddew?" Cat asked.

 

"The high priestess of the House of the Lady. That's our temple to Selune. I hiked all the way up there tonight, by the Immer Stream path. It got dark, and I fell in the stream. I told you that already."

 

"That's when you were attacked by the lacedons but were saved by the bear," Cat said, remembering.

 

"Yes. One of them scratched me right across my face—the lacedons, not the bear. Then, when I got to the temple, there was a girl." Giogi knit his brow. "I didn't think about it at the time, but that girl did look like the Cledwyll statue, except much younger. Since the guardian said I'd been kissed by Selune, I sort of associated this girl with Selune, since she healed me with a kiss, and then—poof!—! was home. Oh, but first she told me Mother Lleddew wasn't there, and that I should try tomorrow. It was all very strange after the fight with the undead. Do you think I imagined it all?"

 

"Well, . . ." Cat hesitated and looked down at her lap, then she looked up again. "Do you know what adventurers mean when they say someone was kissed by Selune, Master Giogioni?"

 

"Well, Selune is the goddess of the moon, so I thought it meant I was born under a full moon or something. Sort of like being born under a lucky star."

 

Cat shook her head. "Sometimes it's used to describe a person who goes a little mad. Usually, though, it means a person cursed with lycanthropy."

 

Giogi paled. "You mean like werewolves?"

 

Cat nodded. "Or wererats or tigers or bears."

 

"Wererats or tigers or bears? Do you think that's why I have those awful dreams about hunting things?"

 

"Have you ever noticed if they're stronger when the moon is full?"

 

Giogi thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I've never really kept track. No, it's too preposterous. I'd know if I was a lycanthrope. I'll admit that sometimes I get in late after imbibing a little too much grape and things are pretty foggy the next morning, but I've never come home in torn clothes covered with blood. And tonight's a full moon, isn't it? I haven't shaved since this morning, but I'm not looking any hairier than usual, am I?"

 

"Sometimes such curses don't show up until a person reaches a certain age. Twenty, usually."

 

"I'm twenty-three."

 

"Sometimes twenty-five or thirty."

 

"Then what about Aunt Dorath? She has the same dreams." "She does?"

 

"Well, she did. She said I had to ignore them."

 

"I don't think that's a good idea," Cat said. "Our dreams tell us important things about ourselves, and sometimes the gods talk to us in them. Do you plan to go back to this Mother Lleddew to find out more about your father and the spur?"

 

"Yes, the girl in the temple said to try again tomorrow afternoon," Giogi explained.

 

"May I come with you?"

 

"I think it would be safer if you stayed here, so we don't run the risk of Flattery spotting you."

 

Cat looked down at her lap again. "I can't hide in your home forever, Master Giogioni," she whispered.

 

Giogi was suddenly aware of the pounding of his heart. He wanted to say that he wished she could, but he bit back those words. "Just a little while longer," he assured her. "When we've found the spur and locked it safely away again, Flattery will give up and go home. If not, well, I'll get Sudacar's advice. He's the king's man. He's supposed to preserve the peace. He'll know what to do."

 

Cat looked up and smiled weakly, but Giogi was afraid he hadn't reassured her.

 

"Do you think that if your uncle did know more about the thief, he might have written it down somewhere?" she asked.

 

"Of course!" Giogi said, smacking his head. "He kept a journal. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. He kept it in his lab."

 

"Perhaps, if you don't think it's too personal, you could let me help out by reading through it, to save you time while you visit Selune's temple. Maybe, too, you could ask Mother Lleddew to perform a divination for you."

 

"Steele was supposed to be getting that done this afternoon. He may already have learned something. I'll ask him. The list of things I have to do is getting pretty long, isn't it? I know it's not very late, but I've had a long day, and I should be getting to bed so I can get an early start tomorrow. Would you think me a terrible host if I left you on your own?" Giogi asked.

 

"Of course not," Cat said. "I'm tired as well."

 

Giogi escorted the mage from the candlelit dining room to the hallway. He felt very odd following her up the stairs. While he'd offered her his protection without hesitation, no other woman except his mother had ever stayed in his house before.

 

Cat halted by his bedroom door and turned to face him.

 

Giogi, feeling very awkward, stopped short and clasped his hands nervously behind his back. "So, you prefer to stay in the lilac room, then?" he asked.

 

"Yes. It's too lovely to resist."

 

"I'll let Thomas know in the morning."

 

Cat stepped closer and stood on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. "Good night, Master Giogioni. Sweet dreams," she whispered.

 

Giogi blinked hard. "Good night," he replied weakly.

 

Cat turned and walked down the hall to the lilac room. She let herself in and closed the door behind her without looking back. Giogi stood in place for several moments. With a sigh, he entered his own room.

 

It wasn't until Giogi had finished undressing that he remembered that he meant to stop in at the Fish to look for Olive Ruskettle and ask her about Alias of Westgate. "Bother," he muttered, "I'm just too tired. It'll wait until tomorrow," he decided, sliding between the sheets.

 

As exhausted as he was, the nobleman lay awake for a long time, afraid to fall asleep and dream. If only Cat's wish of sweet dreams for him could come true, he wouldn't feel so anxious.

 

He thought he heard Cat crying once, and he hovered on the edge of the bed for several minutes, debating whether he should leave her to her privacy or go in and try to comfort her. The crying subsided before he'd made up his mind. Part of him was relieved, since offering comfort to a lady in the middle of the night could be misinterpreted, but part of him was disappointed he'd missed his opportunity to show he cared. He got back into bed feeling agitated and unhappy. He sat propped up against the headboard, listening for any further sounds from the lilac room.

 

Finally, unable to resist the silence and his fatigue, he drifted off, still sitting up. As the guardian had threatened, the dream came.

 

As usual, he soared over the meadow. The field was different tonight, though. It was the meadow atop Spring Hill, and the House of the Lady stood in the center. A great black bear stood on the temple stairs. The young girl acolyte ran through the meadow. Giogi had no control over the dream. His flight was quick and smooth, and the girl didn't stand a chance. She dodged and darted like a rabbit, but, in the end, Giogi dropped down on her with his rending claws. She shrieked with the death cry of all the other prey in his dreams.

 

Giogi started awake. He was drenched with sweat but very, very grateful he'd missed the end of the dream.

 

Then he realized he still heard the shriek. It came from Cat's room.

 

13

 

Olive's Investigation

 

Giogi leaped out of bed, burst from his room, and dashed down the dark corridor to the door of the lilac room. Before he got there, the shrieking had stopped. Bursting into a lady's room could prove awkward, but the silence coming from the room seemed even more ominous to Giogi. He flung open the door without knocking.

 

Cat had lit a fire in the fireplace, but a few glowing embers were all that remained. Dressed only in his nightshirt, Giogi shivered with cold. Moonlight streaming through the windows silhouetted everything in the room. The mage, looking pale and shaken, sat up in her bed.

 

"Are you all right? What's wrong?" Giogi asked.

 

"There was someone in here!" Cat gasped. "He tried to smother me with a pillow!"

 

"Where did he go?"

 

"Through the wall!" Cat cried, pointing to a spot next to the fireplace. "Like a ghost!" The woman's cool, analytical manner had crumbled. She sounded terror-stricken.

 

Giogi turned up the wick in the lamp on the dressing table, and lit it with a bit of burning straw from the fireplace. He drew aside a silk wall hanging, but there was nothing behind it but wall. He tapped it. It sounded solid.

 

"I've never heard of a ghost in this room before," Giogi said. "What did he look like?"

 

"Like Flattery," Cat said with a sob. "But that's impossible."

 

"Is it?" Giogi asked, uncertain.

 

"If Flattery were trying to kill me, he wouldn't leave the job half-finished," Cat insisted. "He wouldn't have needed a pillow, either."

 

Giogi positioned himself prudently at the foot of Cat's bed. She now wore one of his mother's nightgowns, and though it was a prim flannel thing, it was, after all, only a nightgown. "Are you all right?" he asked.

 

Cat lowered her head and nodded. Her long, loose hair veiled her face, but from the way her shoulders shook, Giogi could tell she was crying.

 

Damn propriety! the nobleman thought as he rushed to her side. "It's all right," he insisted, sitting beside her on the bed and wrapping his arms around her. "Everything's going to be fine."

 

Cat laid her head against Giogi's chest and hugged him close. It was a full minute before her sobbing subsided. Then she sniffed and pulled gently away from his arms. "I'm sorry to be such a coward, but I've cast all the magic I can for the day. I'm helpless until I've slept and studied." Her voice quivered, and Giogi was afraid she would go to pieces again.

 

"Anyone would be upset by what you've just been through," Giogi replied. He stood up. "I think you should wait here," he said.

 

"Where are you going?" Cat asked with alarm, grabbing at his arm but stopping herself.

 

"I'm going to get Thomas and search the house," Giogi said. He lit a second lamp and carried it with him out into the hallway. Halfway down the stairs, he met Thomas hurrying up in the darkness.

 

"Sir! I thought I heard a scream! Is something wrong?" the servant asked.

 

"Yes, Thomas," Giogi explained. "Someone attacked Mistress Cat in her room. We may have a burglar or worse."

 

"In the red room, sir? Are you sure?" Thomas asked.

 

"No. Someone in the lilac room. Mistress Cat preferred it to the red room, just as I thought she might, so I invited her to use it instead. Someone tried to smother her, but fled when she screamed. She says her attacker went through the wall, but she may have been confused or the attacker capable of magic. In any case, we ought to search the house."

 

Thomas nodded and moved up the stairs toward Giogi. "Perhaps we should start in the lady's room," the servant suggested.

 

"I was just in there, Thomas. I told you, the intruder fled when Mistress Cat screamed."

 

"There may be, um, footprints, or some other evidence, sir," Thomas offered.

 

"Hmmm. You're right," Giogi agreed. He turned around and marched back to the lilac room with Thomas right behind him. The door stood open. Cat had risen from the bed and wrapped herself in a robe. She stood staring out the window at the grounds below.

 

Giogi knocked on the door frame to announce his presence. The mage whirled around, brandishing a small crystal dagger.

 

"It's just me, with Thomas," Giogi said.

 

Cat gave a relieved sigh. She crossed the room to stand at Giogi's side and lean against him.

 

Thomas nodded politely to Cat before entering the room. "Perhaps I could use that lamp, sir," he suggested.

 

Giogi handed him the light. As the nobleman stood beside Cat, watching his servant investigate the windows, something brushed against his legs. Giogi let out a cry and jumped aside.

 

A large black-and-white cat looked up at him and meowed with annoyance.

 

"Spot! Thomas, it's Spot." Giogi said, picking up the large tomcat and brushing its face fur. The cat began purring immediately.

 

"Is it possible, Mistress Cat," Thomas asked with an exaggerated patience, "that Spot tried lying on your face and you mistook him for a smothering pillow? When you screamed, he would have jumped away. His shadow in the moonlight could have been mistaken for a larger figure. When he landed, he would have disappeared from your sight and perhaps slunk beneath a piece of furniture."

 

"It was not a cat," Cat insisted.

 

"Someone must have sneaked in somehow, Thomas," Giogi said.

 

"I will check all the doors and windows, sir, though it is also possible that someone broke in magically, in which case, they would undoubtedly have left by that way as well."

 

"Well, Thomas, we'd better have a look around, just in case."

 

Master and servant went through every room in the house but turned up no forced or broken windows or doors, nor any house-breakers. Giogi dismissed Thomas and trudged back upstairs to the lilac room.

 

"Nothing," he reported to Cat. "Is it possible Flattery might have sent someone else to do his dirty work, someone less competent than he would be?"

 

Cat paled. "I don't know," she whispered. "Perhaps."

 

"I think, just to be safe, you had better sleep in my bed. I'll stay in here."

 

Cat nodded. Giogi escorted her to his room. He checked behind all the curtains and wall hangings and under the bed. "All clear," he said.

 

"I don't know if I can sleep," Cat said.

 

"You must try. I'll be right next door if you need me." Feeling a little more confident, Giogi bent over and kissed Cat on the forehead before he turned and left the room.

 

Back in the lilac room, Giogi sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if Thomas could be right about Cat mistaking Spot as her attacker. The nobleman certainly hoped so, for the lady's sake. But suppose Thomas had been wrong. Who but Flattery would want to harm the mage? Cat felt sure that Flattery wouldn't have failed if he meant to kill her, but suppose the wizard had meant his attack as a warning? Suppose Flattery were trying to frighten Cat into returning to his side?

 

I have to find some way to protect her from him, Giogi thought with determination. He lav in bed debating whether or not to tell Sudacar about Cat and Flattery. Before he came to a decision, though, he fell asleep. Despite the nobleman's anxieties, no more screams or dreams disturbed his rest.

 

*****

 

Maela's boarding house, where Olive had taken a room for the winter, catered to an exclusive clientele. While Maela's rates were reasonable, and her home clean and comfortable, not everyone would consider crossing her doorstep. Maela was a halfling, and she kept a halfling-sized townhouse in the heart of Immersea.

 

Olive could have stayed at a room in the Five Fine Fish. The Fish was at the center of Immersea night life and where Jade had chosen to stay. The attractions of the Fish could not compete with the comfort of living at Maela's, though. At Maela's, a halfling didn't need to scramble onto the furniture or use her hands to scale the staircases or stand on tiptoes to see out the windows or climb upon chairs to slide door bolts shut. Maela's low ceilings were enough to make Olive feel safe and cozy. The nicest thing about Maela's house was its larder, which Maela kept well stocked and unlocked.

 

Olive's first action upon returning home to Maela's the night before had been to visit that larder. The remainders of that raid lay on a plate on the dressing table in Olive's bedroom. Olive popped another piece of ham into her mouth and licked her fingertips clean before turning back to the mirror at her vanity table.

 

Last night she'd soaked and scrubbed at her hands and feet for half and hour before she was satisfied they revealed no trace of the catacomb muck she'd been through the day before. Upon waking this morning, she'd inspected her best gown carefully, stitched up a tear in the lace, and rubbed away a spot of extra spicy mustard before she slipped it over her head. Now she brushed her auburn hair until it gleamed and every stray bit of straw had been removed.

 

With a disgusted crinkle of her nose, the halfling rummaged through the pile of dirty, smelly clothing at the foot of her bed until she had fished out her quilted vest. Holding the vest on her lap, she turned out an inner pocket and unclasped the pin fastened there for security.

 

The pin, a miniature harp and crescent moon, had been a gift from the Nameless Bard—Finder Wyvernspur, Olive reminded herself. Tossing the vest aside, she reached for the jar of silver polish she'd borrowed from the larder. She removed every trace of tarnish from the jewelry and buffed it to a brilliant luster. Finally, taking a deep breath, Olive pinned it to her dress, right over her heart.

 

She had never actually displayed the Harper's symbol before, which some people would have found remarkable, considering the potential for exploitation the pin presented her. Though little was known of the Harpers, rumors regarding their power and good works were widespread enough that their symbol of membership could gain a person instant respect—though not necessarily safety.

 

Olive understood, however, that possession of the symbol alone did not make her a Harper, even if another Harper, Nameless, had given it to her. Nameless was a renegade, after all. Olive was shrewd enough to realize that another Harper might not look favorably on someone impersonating one of their number, and the farther north she traveled, the greater the likelihood that she would run into a real Harper. So, even though it lent credence to her claim of bardhood—since most Harpers were either bards or rangers—common sense outweighed ego and she had always kept it hidden.

 

Until now. This is an emergency, Olive thought, and no snooty, goody-goody Harper is going to keep me from seeing justice done. Besides, I'm only planning on doing what a real Harper should be doing—eliminating a menace.

 

Years of dealing with human prejudices had left Olive unwilling to leave justice in the hands of authorities. She doubted that any of them, even Harpers, ever felt any concern for people like her and Jade. She couldn't trust them to believe her story about Flattery or do anything about him.

 

She knew Giogi Wvvernspur was different, though. She would take Giogi into her confidence. Giogi, she figured, will be flattered if he thinks I'm a Harper, and it would never occur to him to check into my credentials. As far as he knows, I'm a bard of some renown, and Cat's already prejudiced him against Flattery. It won't be hard to convince him of the truth.

 

Besides, how can he deny assistance to the woman who restored the wyvern's spur to his family? Olive thought, tossing her hair and watching it shimmer in the mirror. The halfling couldn't help but realize that once Flattery was dealt with, the gratitude of a Cormyrian noble, even one as minor as Giogi, could be extremely useful.

 

I won't need to explain to Giogi all the details of how I recovered his family's heirloom, of course; he can assume I'm just extraordinarily clever, which is fairly close to the truth.

 

"Time to arm myself for battle," Olive muttered. One at a time, over her bed, the halfling emptied the pockets of each item of her wardrobe that she'd worn the evening before. She had pockets in her pants, pockets in her tunic, pockets in her vest, pockets in her cloak, and pockets in her belt. Soon a pile of debris collected on the bedspread.

 

A job long overdue, she thought, appalled by all the clutter she found. Some of it was organized—capital and basic equipment—but most of it was junk she'd been unable to part with because she'd convinced herself that eventually it would prove useful.

 

Her own purse held plenty of coins: ten platinum tri-crowns, thirty-two gold lions, plus change—sixteen silver and twelve copper coins. Much more lay stashed beneath the floorboards of her rented room. A smaller sack contained twenty glass "rubies" for emergencies and four real rubies for real emergencies. She set both sack and purse aside.

 

Her lockpicks and wires were nestled neatly in their leather case, though in the corner of the case, wrapped in rags, were twenty-some unsorted picks—some she'd found in her travels; others were broken tools she'd been meaning to replace. More than fifty odd-sized keys jangled from her iron key ring. A few were made to open more than their share of locks; others were rendered useless by distance from, or destruction of, the locks they'd once fit. A spool of sturdy string, a penknife, and a flint with striker completed her "absolutely necessary" pile.

 

Olive made a separate pile of four more balls of sturdy string, two corks, a fishhook and sinker, hair ties and fasteners, a comb, chalk, three empty glass vials—one missing a stopper-six mismatched buttons, a bag of raisins, two dirty handkerchiefs, a candle, a stick of charcoal, spectacle frames without the spectacles, a yarting thumb pick she'd been searching for all week, last week's shopping list, nut shells, peas, and enough biscuit crumbs to keep a pigeon happy for a month. It was mostly stuff she would throw out—eventually.

 

"And last but not least," Olive said, pulling Jade's magical pouch out of her vest and untying the strings, "the wyvern's spur," she announced, dumping the contents of the miniature bag of holding on her bed.

 

"She's as bad as me," the halfling said, astonished by the assortment and number of things that tumbled from the enchanted leather sack. Two handfuls of coins—mostly copper and silver—a purple silk scarf, a brass shot glass, a minty-smelling potion in a crystal vial, a very nice pearl necklace, six keys, a silver spoon, a pair of gloves, a ball of string, a button hook, some regular dice, some loaded dice, a yard of lace, an apple, some chunks of cured, dried meat, and several pieces of hard candy covered in lint.

 

"Yech," Olive muttered. She shook the pouch some more, but nothing else fell out. "Damn!" she said. "Where is it?"

 

Olive sat on the bed and picked through the debris. "It has to be here," she insisted. "I'm the only ass in Immersea. Steele said so." Face it, Olive-girl, she told herself, trying to overcome her disappointment at not finding the spur. Steele must have been wrong, as usual.

 

But Jade being the thief had made so much sense. If the guardian accepted her as a daughter of Finder, the Nameless Bard, Jade could have entered the crypt. Flattery had told Cat that twice his magic had failed to detect the spur. Jade, just like Alias, had been proofed against magical detection and scrying. Jade would have thwarted Flattery's attempts at magical detection.

 

Then a more unsettling thought occurred to Olive. Suppose Jade did steal the spur and it was on her when Flattery disintegrated her? Wouldn't that be ironic?

 

But, then, would Steele's divination reveal that the spur was in the little ass's pocket? Could Steele's god have lied to him? Or was there another little ass that Steele had missed somewhere? Giogi might be considered a bit of an ass, but he was far from little; he was taller than Jade had been. Cat was an ass for sticking with Flattery, but if she had the spur, she'd have turned it over to the evil wizard. There could be other Wyvernspurs who were fools, or, for that matter, any one of them could have secretly wed some fool to steal the spur for them, as Flattery had.

 

Olive wondered idly, Had Flattery really married Cat just to make her a Wyvernspur, or was he just trying to bind her to him? Even if the evil wizard hadn't any idea that Cat was already a Wyvernspur, he still didn't need to marry her to get past the guardian. He could have gone in the crypt himself. Why hadn't he? What had he been afraid of?

 

Olive wished Finder were there now. If Flattery hated him so much, there was a good chance Finder knew Flattery and could tell her something useful about the evil mage. Finder was far off in Shadowdale, though. This time of year it would take more than a month to ride up to Shadowdale and back. Olive and Giogi needed each other's help now. Even if they didn't have the spur, they still had Cat to use against her master.

 

The problem is how to convince Cat that Flattery can't do anything to her and that he has nothing to offer her. The first part's easy enough, the halfling thought. Just use the old amulet of protection scam.

 

Olive looked down at the junk lying on her bed. What do we have here that's uglier than a monkey's paw? she pondered. She scooped up the chunks of cured meat from Jade's purse and tied them tightly in Jade's silk scarf. That'll do for now, she thought, scooping all of Jade's things along with the homemade "amulet of protection" back into Jade's magic pouch.

 

Olive sighed. The sun had risen. It was time to join forces with Giogioni Wyvernspur—right after a light breakfast.

 

*****

 

About an hour after Olive had gone down to eat at Maela's, back at Giogi's townhouse, the Wyvernspur noble knocked softly on the door to his own room.

 

"Come in," Cat called sleepily.

 

Giogi peeked in the doorway. "Just need to get some clothes," he said.

 

"Fine," Cat mumbled, pulling up the thick down comforter to her chest and rolling over.

 

Giogi crossed the room and removed an ensemble from his winter clothes chest. He was searching for matching stockings when there was a soft knock on the door. Giogi shot a quick glance from his search to see Thomas entering with his morning tea tray. The servant crossed to the bed and set the tray on the nightstand by his master's bed, as had been his custom every morning for years. Giogi returned to pawing through the chest.

 

"I say, Thomas," Giogi said, examining a worn patch in the heel of a stocking, "I'm going to need some more warm footgear. And this one will need darning." Giogi held the stocking out in Thomas's direction, his head still buried in his clothing chest. When several seconds passed without Thomas taking the piece, Giogi looked up. "I say, Thomas . . ." he began, but Thomas was not present.

 

From the bed, Cat giggled. "He took one look at me and bolted," she explained as she sat up in bed and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

 

"Why would he do ... Oh, I say! He couldn't have thought. . . Oh, dear. I'd better go have a word with him."

 

"Why?" Cat asked, now grinning from ear to ear.