Olive had no trouble recognizing the silhouette as the shadow cast by a monstrously large wyvern. Yet, there was no wyvern in the room. Olive began to back up slowly. She had had frightening ordeals with dragons before, but at least those dragons had been visible and alive. The creature dwelling in this place, Olive realized, was neither.
“Giogioni,” the disembodied voice whispered again. The shadow of the wyvern head moved as the voice spoke. “You’ve come back at last.”
“I’m only passing through, guardian,” Giogi said. “Don’t bother—” Giogi’s voice cracked. He swallowed hard to wet his throat before continuing. “Don’t bother yourself on my account.”
“Is this little morsel for me?” the guardian asked as a shadowy talon elongated and traveled across the ceiling and down the wall toward Olive.
Olive could’ve sworn the air grew colder as the shadow claw drew near her.
Giogi interposed himself between his burro and the darkness. “This is Birdie, and I need her to search the catacombs, so I would appreciate it if you would leave her undisturbed.”
The voice laughed. “Not too little anymore, are you? I shall respect your wish. But you’ve come too late, my Giogioni. The spur has been taken.”
“I know that,” Giogi said. He could feel a bead of sweat trickling down his face as he mustered all his courage and asked, “Why didn’t you stop the thief?”
“My charge is to let Wyvernspurs pass unslain,” the guardian replied matter-of-factly.
“So which of us took the spur?” Giogi demanded.
“I have no idea. Wyvernspurs are all alike to me. Like shadows on a wall.”
“Great,” Giogi muttered.
“Except you, Giogioni. You are different. Like Cole, like Paton. Kissed by Selûne.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Do you remember what we spoke of when you were here last?”
“I’ve been trying to forget it, actually.”
“You can never forget the death cry of prey, nor the taste of warm blood, nor the crunch of bone.”
Olive’s ears pricked up at the unusual pattern of words. Wyvern poetry? she wondered.
“I have to go,” Giogi insisted. He tugged on the burro’s halter. Olive needed no further coaxing. She trotted across the chamber at the nobleman’s side, keeping him between her and the silhouette. As the only source of light in the room—Giogi’s finder’s stone—moved, the shadow did not shift position but remained looming on the far wall.
In that wall, beneath the shadow of the guardian’s wing, was a small archway opening onto a downward staircase. As they neared the arch, Olive again felt the chill of the guardian. They passed through the archway unharmed, though, and the chill did not extend beyond the crypt. They had passed out of the guardian’s realm.
Behind them, the creature called out in its bone-grating whisper, “You will always dream of these things, Giogi. You will dream of them until you’ve joined me forever.”
Giogi hurried down the stairs, but at the first landing he slumped against the wall, trembling, with his hands covering his face.
Olive nuzzled him gently, concerned that he might go to pieces if she didn’t keep him moving, and anxious to put another flight of stairs between them and the guardian.
Giogi pulled his hands away from his face, took a deep breath, and looked down at the burro. Olive could see tears in the corners of his eyes. “I was wrong,” he said. “She is just as terrible as I remembered. It’s her horrible dream. If I could just stop dreaming that damned dream.”
7
Cat
Giogi stood up straight and took a few deep breaths to compose himself. He was over the worst of it. While the catacombs were no doubt more deadly, they did not hold the same terror for him as the crypt. “Come on, Birdie,” he said, heading down the next flight of steps.
Olive let out her breath in relief and followed.
The passage descending into the catacombs was hewn out of the rock. No marble or cut and fitted stone lined it, and the bare rock was rough and dirty. Water dripped from the ceiling, seeped from the walls, and trickled down the stairs. The steps were crumbling in places and were slick with mud and slimy fungus. Someone heading down the stairs had left large, deep boot impressions in the muck.
“Steele’s footprints,” Giogi muttered unhappily as he plodded down the stairs alongside them. He didn’t really want to join his cousin. Steele didn’t want his company, and if, as Uncle Drone had said, the thief wasn’t down here, Steele was very likely to lose his temper with Giogi. He had to join Steele, anyway, because Uncle Drone had insisted on it. Giogi was just now beginning to suspect why—considering the old wizard’s confession last night and Julia’s revelation this morning.
It looks as if Uncle Drone has been up to skullduggery on my behalf, Giogi thought uneasily. He wants me to pretend to look for the thief so no one blames me for the theft.
Giogi sighed, and the sound echoed up and down the stairway. “Have you ever noticed, Birdie,” he asked philosophically, “that as soon as one’s life has settled down, when there’s nothing but clear sailing ahead, one’s relatives steer one into the shoals, so to speak?”
Olive, whose concentration was riveted on descending the broken, slippery stairs while carrying enough provisions for an adventuring party of twelve, naturally did not reply.
“Take Freffie, for instance,” Giogi said. “Two years ago, he decided I needed a career, and he talked me into joining the army. Me, a purple dragoon. Imagine! Fortunately, I was dismissed from service after accidentally releasing Aunt Dorath’s pet land urchin into the provisions wagon.” Giogi broke off detailing his family’s interference in his life to concentrate on climbing down an especially crumbled section of stairs. He took care that the burro had sure footing each step before pulling on her lead rope.
After they’d overcome that obstacle, the nobleman continued his monologue. “Then last year, Aunt Dorath decided Minda Lluth was just the girl for me. Minda talked me into all sorts of foolish things, then abandoned me while I struggled to extricate myself from the trouble she’d gotten me into. She convinced me to do my impersonation of Azoun at Freffie’s wedding, then, after I nearly got killed, she went and married someone else,” Giogi griped sullenly. He kicked a chunk of stairs down ahead of them.
Unable to ignore Giogi’s last comment, Olive suddenly realized, That’s the wedding I sang at last year. Giogi’s Cousin Freffie must be Lord Frefford Wyvernspur. Olive had sat right in front of the wedding party table, but for the life of her, she could not remember the groom’s features. The man had been eclipsed by his bride, three hundred wedding guests, and the excitement of watching Alias try to assassinate his Cousin Giogi. I’ll have to get another look at Frefford, Olive decided, before I can rule him out as Jade’s murderer.
It took Giogi a few minutes to overcome his disappointment with Minda and focus on his current problem. “Now, Julia tells me that Uncle Drone has been trying to arrange for me to use the wyvern’s spur,” he said.
I know. I heard her, Olive thought. I was there, remember?
“Did I ask him to do this?” Giogi asked the burro, annoyance creeping into his voice. He answered his own question with an indignant tone. “I most certainly did not. Did he ask me if I’d mind him acting on my behalf? He most certainly did not!”
More calmly, Giogi stated, “I love my family,” then he shouted, “but why can’t they all just leave me alone?”