Not only had she missed the woman, but secretly she’d been worried sick about Jade. Olive had been able to think of only one reason why Jade would disappear, but she could hardly go up to Lord Sudacar and ask, “Have you arrested my friend Jade for picking someone’s pocket?” It certainly wouldn’t have helped Jade any. Olive had searched through Immersea as subtly as she could. She didn’t want Jade to think she kept tabs on her, but the halfling had felt responsible for the human.
She’d felt that way ever since she’d spotted Jade in the streets of Arabel—picking the pocket of a purple dragoon. Jade’s technique had been superb, but, of course, purple dragoons were never paid in anything but royal script, which civilians were not allowed to have. If someone doesn’t warn her about that, Olive had thought, she’ll end up a bonded servant, and those talented fingers will be wasted scrubbing floors.
Right then Olive had realized she was the perfect candidate to look after the girl, train her, and offer her guidance, just as Alias had a saurial paladin to keep her safe. Who better, Olive had thought, than I? Not only do I know more about her than she probably knows about herself, but we share the same craft.
Nonetheless, Olive had been surprised at how easily Jade had accepted her offer to become her apprentice, how quickly Jade had come to depend on her, and how completely the human had trusted her. Because of all this, Olive had come to think of Jade as a daughter. An overgrown daughter, but a beloved daughter.
When Jade had said she’d been visiting family, Olive had felt an unreasonable flare of jealousy. Now she wondered angrily, Who was this phony family member who’d kept her Jade away for six days, tempting her with magic sacks and the gods knew what else? A fat lot of good he’d been to her when she’d been murdered on the street.
A fat lot of good you’d been to her, Olive derided herself. You failed her. You knew there was something evil about the mark she went after. Why didn’t you stop her? If you’d insisted harder, she would have stayed. Why did you let her go? You’ll never see her again, now. Never, ever.
Unable to weep in her burro body, Olive found herself banging her head against the stall door in a mindless fury. Daisyeye nickered nervously, upset by the noise Olive made.
With some effort, Olive controlled herself. She took a deep breath and another drink of water.
Its not all my fault, she thought with a flash of anger. Nameless killed her, though why he should murder one of Alias’s copies is a mystery. Face it, Olive-girl, she told herself, he’s never been completely sane. He could have a reason, albeit a twisted one.
The first thing that had occurred to her, because of what Nameless had said to Jade on the street, was that he’d judged Jade to be unfit because she was a thief, and that he’d taken it upon himself to destroy her because he’d been partly responsible for creating her.
“You’ve escaped,” he’d said to Jade. Had he kept her prisoner for the past six days? Was that what Jade had meant when she said she’d been “visiting family”? In a way, Nameless was kin to Jade. He thought of himself as Alias’s father, and Alias was Jade’s older sister, sort of. Who else could she have meant?
Of course! Olive thought with a start. She could have meant one of Nameless’s relatives! If the portrait on the wall of Giogi’s carriage house was Nameless, as Olive was sure it was, and if, as Giogi claimed, the man in the portrait was some ancestor, then Nameless was a Wyvernspur, and Jade would be kin to all the Wyvernspurs, at least in as much as she was kin to Nameless.
Even better than that, though, was the inevitable conclusion that if, as Giogi also claimed, the portrait could have been of any Wyvernspur, since they all looked alike, then Jade’s murderer might not have been Nameless at all, but some other Wyvernspur.
With the realization that Nameless wasn’t her only suspect, a feeling of relief swept over Olive. She hadn’t wanted to believe he would murder anyone. From the day she’d freed him from the sorceress Cassana’s dungeon, Olive had respected his talents as a bard, and he had gained her sympathy with his tale of being stripped of his name and exiled to another plane. Of course, Olive had not approved of the callous way Nameless had risked people’s lives in order to satisfy his egotistical desire to create an immortal vessel to sing his music. On the other hand, his treatment at the hands of the Harpers had been nothing short of tyrannical. Exiling him had been cruel enough, but repressing his songs was unforgivable. The halfling could not help but admire the way Nameless had defied the Harpers a second time. His scheme had been mad, but it had ended in the creation of Alias and Jade. On the whole, Olive had really liked Nameless.
She was pretty sure he’d liked her, too. After all, he’d spent hours teaching her new songs on his yarting, possibly the same yarting he held in his portrait. He’d also given her his Harper’s pin, the same silver brooch he wore in the portrait. The piece of jewelry fashioned in the shape of a harp and crescent moon was pinned somewhere in Olive’s vest pocket—wherever that was beneath her burro hide. Some might have interpreted his presenting the pin to a halfling thief as an act of defiance against the Harpers, but Olive chose to think of it as a reward for helping Alias gain her freedom.
Now that she thought about it, Olive recalled that there had been something about Jade’s murderer that was different from Nameless. The murderer’s hair was as dark and silky as the hair in Nameless’s portrait. The portrait was done two centuries ago, though. The last time Olive had seen Nameless, his hair had been splotched with gray and was somewhat lusterless. So it couldn’t have been Nameless who killed Jade, unless he’d found some potion of youth.
Olive shook her head, unwilling to believe Nameless capable of such treachery as long as there were other possibilities in the Wyvernspur family. Giogi might know who those other possibilities were, she realized. Remaining with him would be my best opportunity to discover the identity of Jade’s murderer.
And when I find out which Wyvernscum murdered my Jade, Olive thought, I can avenge her death.
Having settled her mind about Nameless and realizing that her transformation and captivity might have some tactical advantage, Olive’s thoughts turned to more mundane matters. Her stomach was rumbling. She’d missed dinner, and her appetite had not diminished upon her transformation. She sniffed experimentally at the bucket of oats.
Giogi tossed uneasily in his sleep. He was dreaming that he was soaring over a meadow on a spring morning. He knew that he was asleep. He hadn’t the ability to soar over anything except dream things. Besides which, he’d had this particular nightmare before. That’s why he tossed uneasily. While most people would find the beginning of this dream enchanting, or even exhilarating, Giogi was too well acquainted with the ending to appreciate the soaring part.
His chestnut mare, Daisyeye, galloped into sight beneath him. Giogi swooped down on the horse more silently than an owl on a rabbit. He sunk his talons into the mare’s haunches and his fangs into her neck and snatched his prey from the ground. Daisyeye neighed in terror and pain as Giogi beat his wings harder and faster and climbed back into the air. The horse writhed in his grasp for a few moments, then went limp.
Giogi landed back in the meadow. Blood flowing from Daisyeye’s neck and haunches steamed in the cool air. Her bones snapped as Giogi began swallowing her whole.
Giogi awoke with a gasp, trembling with fear. “Why me?” he moaned.
That was the question he’d been asking himself since he’d come of age and he’d started having the dream. At first, the prey in his dream had been wild creatures: stags and boars and mountain goats, and while the dream had disturbed Giogi greatly, at least he was accustomed to hunting such creatures for real—with a bow, of course. Ever since the dragon who’d waylaid him last spring had eaten the first Daisyeye—not Daisyeye II, who was safe in the carriage house—the prey in Giogi’s nightmares had become Daisyeye. Like all Cormyrian nobles, he loved his horses, and the idea of slaughtering and devouring them appalled him.