“Alone, alone, alone,” the stairway echoed up and down.
Disturbed by the sound of his own voice reverberating through the dank corridors, Giogi continued his descent in silence.
Finally given the quiet to think, Olive tried to analyze the possibility that Steele could be Jade’s murderer—based on all that Giogi and Julia had said about him. Steele Wyvernspur possessed a streak of cruelty and ruthlessness. That matched the murderer. Steel was supposed to be competent with a sword. The murderer could cast powerful spells, and, while it was unlikely he would also wield a sword well, it wasn’t impossible. Every now and then, one came across a wizard proficient with a weapon besides a dagger. Steele wouldn’t be too old, but he might be too young. If his sister, Julia, is anything to go by, he’ll have the Wyvernspur face, Olive thought, but I won’t know anything for sure until I get a good look at him.
It was at this point that Olive noticed a second set of footprints. They were smaller and less deep, apparently made by a woman or a small man wearing soft-soled slippers. The prints went up toward the crypt and back down to the catacombs. The thief’s? Olive wondered excitedly.
Curious now to see this thief and eager to get a look at Giogi’s cousin, Olive clomped down the stairs with more speed. Before she reached the bottom, the burro was walking ahead of Giogi and the lead rope, like a bloodhound on the hunt.
Finally, man and burro reached the bottom of the stairs. They stood in a small anteroom paved with rough stones. The light of the finder’s stone revealed corridors leading away in three directions. Two of the corridors were heavily webbed over, but strands of torn spider silk wafted in the subterranean breeze of the third tunnel. Scattered at the tunnel’s entrance was the hacked-up remains of a large spider. A heavy boot heel had left its imprint in the smeared spider ichor.
“Easy to see where Steele’s been,” Giogi said matter-of-factly. The noble unsheathed his foil for the first time. “At least he’s brushed all the cobwebs away for us.”
No, Olive thought. The thief would have done that. Steele’s just following the culprit’s trail.
Giogi led the way cautiously down the web-cleared corridor. There was nothing outstanding about the passage. Water had created it, and Giogi’s ancestors had widened it. No jewels or precious metals glittered in the walls, no delicately carved stone columns towered over them. The surfaces all about them consisted of well-packed dirt, pockets of sand, pebbles, and rocks, and magically hewn stone. The corridor had been excavated for utility, not for show.
The sound of dripping water and their own footsteps echoed around Giogi and Olive. The air was moist and cold. Large, ugly spiders, chittering like angry squirrels, scrambled away from the light of the finder’s stone.
The corridor continued straight for almost a thousand feet. The spiders and torn cobwebs ended abruptly. A short distance farther, the corridor began to twist and branch. In the absence of broken webs, Steele’s route was no longer obvious.
At the branching, Giogi halted, sheathed his foil, and began rummaging through Olive’s packs. He lightened her load by the weight of the portable stool, the picnic basket, the blanket, the sack of grain, and the map. After sprinkling a little grain on the blanket, he set up the stool, sat down, and poured himself tea in a tin mug.
This boy can really rough it, Olive thought sarcastically. No linen, no china, no butler.
Steele will have headed for the outer door, to see if the thief is sitting by it, Giogi decided. As he munched some old tea cakes, he examined his map for the quickest route to the door. When he looked up, his burro had its nose buried in his picnic basket. “Bad Birdie,” he said, pushing Olive’s muzzle away. “That’s your food over there.” He pointed to the grain on the blanket.
Olive pleaded with her eyes.
“Oh, very well,” Giogi sighed. He drew out a cheese sandwich and fed it to her in pieces, then spoiled her with another slice of apple.
I wonder if I can get him to pour me some tea, too, Olive thought with a mental chuckle.
“No more, Birdie,” Giogi said, rising suddenly to his feet. He packed up everything in a flurry and loaded it back on Olive. Before they continued, the nobleman drew out from the packs a jar of paint and a paint brush.
At every intersection, the nobleman consulted the map and painted a number on the wall. Several times, he had to turn the map or turn himself to get his bearings. Twice they retraced their steps to check a previous number. Their progress slowed to a crawl.
With their tedious pace and the sound of dripping water percolating through the stonework, Olive felt as if she were being tortured. She fought her irritability by reminding herself, You need the boy to get you out of this pit, Olive-girl. You can’t afford for him to get confused.
They were halted in an intersection when Olive detected something flutter softly past her long ears. Giogi, intent on his map and paints, seemed not to notice it. Olive felt a prick near her haunches. She swished her tail automatically. She was just thinking, Useful things, tails, when a bloated crow-sized shape swooped down behind Giogi’s head.
For a moment, Olive thought it was just a bat, but as it hovered by Giogi’s neck, she saw it had feathery wings. Then she caught sight of its mosquitolike proboscis.
Olive brayed in terror, suddenly realizing what the prick she’d felt earlier had been.
Giogi whirled around at the sound. The light from the finder’s stone flared, outlining a stirge nearly as large as a tomcat. Giogi leaped backward with a shriek, dropping the map, the paint can, and paint brush. Recovering his nerve quickly, though, he drew his foil and lunged at the creature. Too fat to gain altitude quickly, the startled creature swooped down and away, and Giogi’s foil stabbed at empty air. The flying monster disappeared into the darkness.
Meanwhile, Olive was smashing her haunches against the uneven rock walls, trying to squash the bloodsucker she knew must be attached to her. She felt something solid catch between her body and the wall and rupture. Something wet seeped through the blanket between the packs and her back.
Was that the stirge or a water bag? she wondered. Not taking any chances, she kept on swinging her back half against the stone. The tea basket tumbled to the ground and things in the packs clattered against one another.
“Take it easy, Birdie,” Giogi said. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Take it easy, he says, while something’s sucking my lifeblood away. In her mind Olive imagined a swarm of stirges hanging from her fuzzy belly like bats did from the ceilings of caves.
With a look of grim concern, Giogi raised his foil and lunged at the burro. Olive closed her eyes and held her breath.
She never felt the prick of the foil, but in less than a few seconds, Giogi was patting her back, whispering soothing words.
“It’s all over now, girl. I got the lot.”
The lot! Then there was more than one, Olive thought queasily. She opened her eyes. Skewered on the nobleman’s sword, like cornish hens on a spit, were half a dozen stirges, the largest no bigger than a squirrel.
Mercifully the finder’s stone’s light had dimmed back to its normal soft glow, so she didn’t get a good look at them. Nonetheless, Olive had to fight back her nausea.
“Disgusting creatures, aren’t they?” Giogi commented as he slid the bloodsuckers off his weapon and kicked the corpses against the wall. From the pallor of Giogi’s face, Olive could tell he was not inured to battle. The young noble wiped his foil clean with a silk handkerchief, grimaced at the gore and stains on the fabric, and dropped the cloth over his kills.
He wasn’t boasting after all, Olive thought with relief. He is competent with that foil. He managed to skewer the enemy without harming a hair on my head—or the other end, for that matter. We may live through this little jaunt yet.