by Kate Novak
Determined to learn more about his father’s adventuring life, Giogi strode purposefully toward the inn. He slipped through the front door behind the last of the travelers and squeezed his way past them into the common room.
The room was packed with people. Five musicians in the corner struck up a reel, and several people began dancing on the wooden floor. The dancers’ shadows swayed against the wall whenever someone bumped into one of the oil lamps hanging from the low ceilings. The tables and chairs of the Fish’s common room were built for durability rather than style, not carved, but hewn, and polished, not with wax, but by generations of oily hands and elbows. Lem, the inn’s owner, was tapping a fresh keg of ale, banging the spigot into the barrel in time to the music. He looked up at Giogi and gave him a wink.
Giogi searched the room for Sudacar while people coming in and out jostled him. Finally the young noble spotted the local lord in a corner opposite the musicians. He was seated with a few members of the town guard and some adventurers Giogi did not recognize. Sudacar rose to greet one of the travelers who’d just come in—a wool merchant. The two men gave each other a hearty handshake. Sudacar offered the newcomer a seat and signaled for more drinks before sitting back down himself.
Giogi suddenly felt very nervous. True, Sudacar had invited him, but the local lord was obviously very busy with friends and associates. Uncertain as to what sort of reception Sudacar would have for him, Giogi turned about and left the inn.
Once outside again, Giogi felt aimless. He meandered toward the market green with his hands stuffed deep in his cloak pockets and his head tilted back toward the stars. At the near end of the green stood a statue of Azoun III, grandfather of the present king. The stone monarch sat on a granite stallion frozen in the act of rearing and trampling rock-carved bandits. Giogi leaned against a stone bandit and sighed loudly.
“This was not the homecoming I expected,” he explained to the bandit.
The wind, chill and damp, blew from the lake. Giogi sighed again and watched the ghosts of his breath drift east toward his own home.
“The house felt like a tomb when I got in last night,” he told the bandit. “I have to spend my second day back, tomorrow, visiting the family crypt. Shaver says I missed the best summer regatta in ten years. His yacht, The Dancing Girl, came in second against four hundred-to-one odds. And Chancy says that his sister, Minda, did not wait for me. She married Darol Harmon, from over in Arabel. Not that there was anything official between us, mind you. I thought we had an understanding, but I guess a year is a long time for a girl to wait.”
Giogi studied the bandit’s grimace. “I suppose, though, that you have your own troubles.”
The bandit did not keep up his end of the conversation, so Giogi continued. “Everyone laughs at my boots, and no one wants to listen to the tale of my travels. I’ll admit, there aren’t any princes or elves or casts of thousands in it, but it does have a whopping big dragon, and an evil sorceress, and a lovely, but quite mad, lady sell-sword. Wait. There was one person who was interested,” Giogi amended. “Gaylyn, Freffie’s wife. Nice girl, and pretty, too. Olive Ruskettle, the renowned bard, wrote a song in honor of their wedding—Freffie and Gaylyn’s wedding, that is. Now, how did it go?”
Giogi began singing snatches of the song: “Something, something, syncopated breath. Something, something, love transcends even death.”
“Giogioni!”
Giogi was so startled, he slid off the stone bandit.
Samtavan Sudacar had to grin at the sight of the young nobleman lying beneath the hooves of the stone monarch’s stallion as if he were being trampled with the bandits about him. “That’s no sort of company for you to keep, boy,” Sudacar said, offering him a hand up.
Giogi accepted the assistance gratefully, and as Sudacar hefted him to his feet, he could easily imagine the well-muscled arms slaying giants. “What are you doing here?” Giogi asked.
Sudacar laughed. “Coming to fetch you. Lem said you came in but left. Couldn’t find me in the crush, eh?”
Giogi nodded, then shook his head. It would be too difficult to explain that he was afraid he wouldn’t be welcome.
“I came out to bring you back inside, unless you’re too busy rendering assistance to Azoun’s granddad. Getting to be a habit with you, I hear.”
“What?” Giogi asked, wondering if Sudacar meant that rumors abounded that he drank heavily and often collapsed beneath town monuments.
“Lending the royal family a hand. Someone told me tonight you weren’t just abroad, you were on a mission south for His Highness.”
“Oh, that,” Giogi replied. “It wasn’t much, really. Just a messenger job.”
Sudacar chuckled at the nobleman’s modesty. “You’ll have to tell us all about it inside. If you’re not too hoarse or too tired to tell it again.”
Giogi grinned. Someone wanted to hear his story. He stood up straighten “Love to oblige.”
The two men walked toward the Five Fine Fish, but just outside, Giogi hesitated. “I just remembered. I, uh, seem to have mislaid my purse.”
Sudacar looked at the nobleman darkly. “You, too, eh? A lot of that going around lately. Seems we have a new element in town. I’ve got to have Culspiir look into it. Don’t worry. Tonight you’re in my hands. We’ve got to raise that glass in honor of your father.”
Entering the Fish with Sudacar was very different from entering it alone. Sudacar knew everyone, and everyone in turn seemed to know and like Sudacar. The crowd parted for him. He had the best table in the house. He sat Giogi down at his right-hand side and introduced him around as Cole Wyvernspur’s son. Many of the older merchants and their even older adventurer bodyguards nodded in approval. Giogi saw some of the younger adventurers whisper a question to their elders, and when the veterans whispered back the answer, the younger adventurers turned friendly smiles on the nobleman.
As the tavernkeeper set fresh mugs of ale down in front of Giogi and Sudacar, the local lord asked, “Lem, Mistress Ruskettle come in yet?”
“Not yet,” Lem replied. “Odd thing. You know, usually you could set the town clock by her stomach.”
“I’m looking for that woman she goes around with, Jade More.”
“So’s Ruskettle. Been asking all week if anyone’s seen her.”
Sudacar knitted his brow. “Jade leave town?”
Lem shook his head uncertainly. “Her packs are still up in her room, not stuffed with rags, either. I checked. Full of nice clothes, and plenty of money. I’m holding it for her return.”
“Business must be good, whatever it is she’s in.”
“Aye,” Lem agreed with a smirk.
When Lem had left their side, Sudacar gave a toast, “To Cole Wyvernspur, a brave adventurer.”
Giogi drank to his father, but his curiosity was suddenly running in another direction. “This Mistress Ruskettle,” he said. “Is she Olive Ruskettle, the bard?”
“Yes. She’s been wintering here. You know about her?” Sudacar asked.
“She sang at Freffie’s—um—Lord Frefford’s wedding to Gaylyn. In a way, she’s responsible for my being sent on my mission for the king.”
“Oh?” Sudacar said encouragingly.
“She had this bodyguard with her, named Alias, you see. Very pretty but quite mad. Alias, that is.”
“Yes, Ruskettle’s told us all about her. Wait a minute!” Sudacar said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Are you the noble whom Alias attacked after doing an impression of Azoun?”
Giogi nodded. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted, relieved to see that Sudacar did not seem to be offended that he’d done an impression of His Highness. “Anyway,” Giogi continued, “on my way home after the wedding, I was waylaid by this dragon who ate my horse—a monstrous, ancient red beast—the dragon, that is, not my horse. A good horse, too. Then this dragon sent me to His Majesty with the offer that she would leave the country if he could tell her where Alias was.”
Sudacar’s brow furro
wed. He didn’t like the idea of making deals with evil red dragons. “What did His Majesty do?”
“His Majesty didn’t want to have anything to do with it, but Vangy told him that Alias could be an assassin and convinced him to settle with the dragon.”
“Sounds like Vangerdahast,” Sudacar muttered.
“Yes,” Giogi agreed, taking a sip from his mug. The young Wyvernspur had no love for the court wizard, who was an old chum of Aunt Dorath’s. In his few interviews with the wizard, Giogi felt more than a little intimidated by the man’s magic powers and overweening certainty that he was always right.
“Still,” Sudacar sighed, “the old mage keeps our king safe, and for that we should be grateful. The king’s health,” he added, raising his mug.
“Long live the king,” Giogi agreed, raising his drink.
They both took a pull on their ale and sat quietly as it ran down their throats.
“So why did you travel to Westgate?” Sudacar asked.
“Well, Vangy never really did know exactly where this Alias was. Seems she couldn’t be magically detected, but she was supposed to come from Westgate. So His Majesty sent me down there to inquire of what the authorities knew about her, and to see if she showed up there. She did. I spotted her outside the city. I spent the rest of the season in Westgate trying to find her again, or some information about her, without luck. I wintered there and came back as soon as a safe sea crossing could be made.”
“According to Ruskettle, Alias is up in Shadowdale now,” Sudacar said.
“Really? Maybe I ought to bop off a letter to His Majesty about that,” Giogi said.
“Let me handle it. According to Ruskettle, Alias was working for Elminster. Vangy ought to know that before he tries making any more trouble for the lady.”
Giogi grinned. He wondered if a wizard as powerful as Elminster could make Vangerdahast as nervous as Vangerdahast made him.
“So how’d you like Westgate? I noticed you got yourself a pair of clodders. Won’t get a better pair of boots anywhere in the Realms, not even in Waterdeep.”
“Got one of these, too,” Giogi said, pulling out the yellow crystal from the top of his boot.
Sudacar sat up more attentively. “Boy, where did you get that?” he asked.
“Found it lying in the mud just outside Westgate.”
“Found it lying—” Sudacar’s words halted. He looked flabbergasted. “Boy, that’s a finder’s stone. I know, because Elminster himself loaned me one once.”
“What’s a finder’s stone?”
“It’s a magic crystal. It helps the lost find their way.”
“But I’m not lost,” Giogi said.
Sudacar gave the nobleman a queer look. “Maybe you better hang onto it, just in case.”
“Oh, I intend to. I like it. It makes me—this is going to sound silly—”
“It makes you feel happy,” Sudacar said.
“Yes. How’d you—oh, right, you said you had one once.” Giogi tucked the crystal back into his boot.
“Tell me more about Westgate. Things are shaking down there, I hear.”
Giogi nodded. “A dead dragon fell on their city just before I arrived, followed by an earthquake the day after. Then there was a power struggle going on for the property and business of some sorceress and her allies. A woman named Cassana, the Followers of Moander, and the Fire Knives all were missing after the earthquake.”
“The Fire Knives. Now that is good news. I remember the year His Majesty broke their charter for the murder of that scullery maid. Ever since Azoun sent the thugs packing they’ve been a threat to him. May they stay missing,” he toasted and took another swig of ale.
Giogi did likewise. The warmth of the ale augmented the warm, comfortable feeling he had in Sudacar’s company.
Giogi and Sudacar drank and compared stories about Westgate until Lem stood over them and coughed politely. Giogi looked up and realized that the other tables and booths were empty, and Lem’s waiters were stacking the chairs and benches.
The two noblemen were the last customers in the tavern, and Giogi suspected Lem had stayed open well after hours just to oblige Sudacar. Sudacar left a small pile of gold lions on the table, stood, and led the way to the door. Giogi stumbled after him.
Many of the streetlamps had burned all their day’s oil and expired or been blown out by the wind, but the waxing moon gave the two men plenty of light to see their way. They crossed the market green together and halted beneath the statue of “Azoun’s Triumph.”
“You know,” Giogi said, “you let me babble on so long, you never had a chance to tell me about my father.”
Sudacar grinned. “It’s part of my fiendish plot. Now you have to visit me another night,” he said.
“I’d like that,” Giogi said.
“We’ll keep an eye out for your purse, too. You really ought to get yourself an enchanted one, you know. The kind that makes some noise if it’s touched by someone else.”
“It was enchanted. Trouble was, I kept leaving it places, so whenever the servants found it anywhere and touched it, there was a big fuss. Uncle Drone fixed it so it would do something only if someone besides myself actually opened it.”
“What was it supposed to do?”
“I think Uncle Drone said it would make a fool or something out of the thief.”
“Well, I’ll tell my men to keep an eye out for any fools.”
Giogi giggled. “I’d hate to end up arrested for the theft of my own purse.”
Sudacar gave a disapproving frown and pointed a finger at Giogi. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that, boy. His Majesty wouldn’t have entrusted you on a mission for the crown if you weren’t competent. As a matter of fact, now that you and your cousins are grown, Azoun will soon be relying on the services of all three of you, just as he did with your father and his cousins. Once you get this spur nonsense cleared up, it’ll be time for you to take up the responsibility of nobility—serving your king.”
“Me?” Giogi gasped.
“You,” Sudacar replied, chuckling at the shocked expression on the young man’s face.
Giogi had assumed he’d only been sent to find Alias in Westgate because he would recognize the sell-sword. It had never occurred to him that the king would ever require him on other missions. Apparently, finding the spur was no guarantee that his life would return to normal—the way it had been before last spring. “Wait a minute. How’d you know about the spur?” Giogi asked Sudacar. “You said Aunt Dorath wouldn’t tell you what was going on?”
“I have my sources,” Sudacar replied with a wink. “It’s getting late. Time to go.” He gave Giogi a pat on the back and strode south from the market square toward Redstone Manor. He called out, “Good night, Giogioni,” before he disappeared into the darkness.
Automatically Giogi called back, “Good night, Sudacar.” Sudacar had left him feeling bemused and astonished, but not in the least bit anxious. He headed west down the side street that led to his townhouse.
Tired and inebriated, the nobleman did not remember Drone’s warning that his life might “just possibly” be in danger. Nor did he notice the sound of clattering hooves on the paving stones made by the angry beast following him.
Mistaken Identities
After failing to recognize Olive in her transmuted condition, Nameless continued his inspection of the stable. He searched methodically in grim silence, slamming each stall door a little harder than the last. Olive could sense the anger and frustration building in him. Pulling a needle-thin dagger from his belt, he jabbed it into any bag of grain or stack of hay large enough to hide a halfling.
Finally, when Olive began trembling at the thought that he might study her bestial form more carefully and realize he had her at his mercy, she heard the sound of someone unbolting the stable’s front door. Nameless cursed and began muttering another spell.
The stable door opened, and a young woman carrying a lantern strode in. Olive recognized her as Lizzy
Thorpe, the stable’s owner. Whether Lizzy was aroused by the noise or was just checking on the animals wasn’t clear, but when she spotted the cloaked figure in her stable without permission, she gave a shout. The cloaked figure vanished. Lizzy ran out, still shouting for help.
Olive noticed a peculiar churning of straw where Nameless had stood, and it moved down the center aisle to the stable’s front door. Olive also sensed the floorboards shift slightly and heard them creak from the weight of a human.
He’s gone invisible, she realized, but at least he’s leaving.
Lizzy returned less than a minute later with two of the night watch. “He was standing right there when I came in,” she told them, pointing to where the cloaked figure had turned invisible. Lizzy and the watchmen began to search the barn as methodically as Nameless had, though without his intense desperation.
Still hiding behind the sacks of grain, Olive heard Lizzy cry out, “Look what he’s done to my wall. Left a bloody huge hole in it, big enough to ride a paladin’s mount through!”
The two guards made their way back to Snake Eyes’s stall.
“Wood’s just vanished, edges left smooth as butter cut with a hot knife,” the older night watchman noted. “Looks like mage work to me. If it is magic, it’ll fade, and you’ll get your wall back, probably in an hour or two.”
“You’re lucky this pony had the good sense to stay put,” the other watchman said. “Any horses missing, Lizzy?”
Before Lizzy noticed the addition of one small donkey to her stable, Olive snatched up Giogioni Wyvernspur’s purse in her teeth and slipped quietly out the open stable door.
The halfling waited what seemed an eternity for Giogi to come out of the Immer Inn. Olive wondered if she were succeeding at hiding in shadows in her new four-legged configuration or if the people passing by simply weren’t keen on donkey-snaring this late at night. Whichever was the case, no one approached her.