by Kate Novak
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. “First 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 clodders 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.
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?”