“Well, when Uncle Drone told us this morning,” Frefford said, “he claimed it was some sort of ruse to see what Steele would do. Aunt Dorath hit the ceiling. She demanded Uncle Drone return the spur. Uncle Drone swore he didn’t have it and didn’t know where it was. Aunt Dorath said he had darn well better find out. Uncle Drone said he darn well would. Then he went stomping up to his lab with orders that he was not to be disturbed—that it would be dangerous to interrupt him.”
Frefford took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then continued his grim tale. “When he didn’t come down for morning tea, Aunt Dorath sent me after him. Both doors to his lab were locked and bolted. Aunt Dorath insisted I force one of them. It looked like there’d been a fight when we got inside. Papers were scattered about. Furniture was overturned. Then we found the ashes beneath his robes and hat.”
Frefford’s word hung on the cold air with the vapor of his breath. Then he asked his cousin, “Giogi, did you talk to the guardian? Did she say anything?”
“Freffie, I’d really rather not talk about her right now,” Giogi replied.
Frefford put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder again. “Giogi, it could be important,” the Wyvernspur lord insisted, giving Giogi’s shoulder a squeeze. “You know you’re the only one she communicates with.”
Giogi kicked at a rock on the path. The guardian spoke to only one member of each generation of Wyvernspurs. Giogi wished she would have picked someone else—someone like Steele. Steele didn’t believe in her. He had teased Giogi about her since they were children, when Giogi had first admitted hearing her voice.
Frefford believed, though. And he was right, it could be important. Giogi said, “I asked her why she didn’t stop the thief, and she said that she’s supposed to let Wyvernspurs pass unslain. I asked her who had taken the spur, and she said she couldn’t tell—that we’re all alike—except me.”
“Nothing about the curse?” Frefford asked.
“Freffie, that’s just superstition,” Giogi said.
“Aunt Dorath doesn’t seem to think so,” Frefford said softly. “Maybe she’s right. Uncle Drone and Steele both risked their lives because of it, and Uncle Drone—” Frefford broke off his sentence. There was no need to say it again.
They reached the bottom of the hill and stepped out onto the road, where Frefford’s carriage waited. A wedding gift from Gaylyn’s father, the carriage’s gilded surface still sparkled, even in the gray light. Giogi and Frefford transferred Steele from Cat’s magical disk to the carriage’s back seat.
“Steele must see a healing cleric right away,” Frefford said, “but I can drive you into town, at least.”
Giogi excused himself, using Birdie as an excuse. Cat explained she had business with Giogi.
“Stop by later and see the baby,” Frefford invited as he climbed into the carriage, beside his wounded cousin. Steele moaned softly in his sleep.
“Thanks. I will,” Giogi promised.
Frefford signaled his driver, who clucked the horses into motion. As the carriage rattled down the road, Giogi felt a sense of relief. He didn’t want to be around when Steele fully recovered and found out Uncle Drone had deceived them. Frefford could handle Steele’s rage far better than Giogi could.
“Perhaps I’d better leave,” Cat suggested, “now that your uncle is no longer here to aid you.”
Good idea, Olive thought, nodding her burro head in agreement.
“No,” Giogi said. “Uncle Drone’s death doesn’t change anything. You’re still in danger; you must stay with me. After all, if the guardian let you pass, you must be a Wyvernspur, and we Wyvernspurs look out for one another.”
Cat bowed her head. “Very well. I accept your kind offer, Master Giogioni.”
“Wonderful.” Giogi smiled at Cat, feeling excessively pleased with himself. “Gracious Tymora. I never even noticed. You haven’t a cloak. Here, you’d better wear mine. I insist,” the noble said, ignoring the mage’s protests as he wrapped her in his own cloak.
Humans are such fools, Olive noted, especially human men. All this chivalry nonsense and family duty could get a person killed. Like Uncle Drone.
“Come along, Birdie,” Giogi chided, giving the burro a tug on the lead rope. “Stop daydreaming. We want to get home before the weather turns ugly. Ugh. Make that uglier.”
Olive looked up. The clouds overhead had gone from steel gray to black. Olive felt the first sharp, cold needles of sleet pierce through her fur. She began trotting alongside the two humans as they hurried down the road toward Giogi’s home.
The traffic in Immersea was lighter than it had been earlier that morning. A few grimy urchins chased one another through the streets, but the foresters had returned to the forest, the field hands to the fields, and the fishermen to their beds. Servants were busy eating their noonday meals.
By the time Giogi’s party reached his townhouse gate, the drizzling sleet became a heavy freezing rain, which hid the townhouse behind a curtain of water. The nobleman, mage, and burro dashed through the garden and hustled into the carriage house. They all stood shaking water and ice from their hair, clothes, and fur for a minute.
“Just as soon as I get Birdie settled, we’ll have our lunch,” Giogi promised Cat as he lit the lantern by the door.
“Haven’t you got a servant to take care of that?” Cat asked.
Giogi nodded. “Yes, Thomas usually handles it, but I like to look after them, too. I like animals,” he explained.
Cat climbed into the parked buggy and sank into the cushioned seat with a sigh.
Giogi unloaded all the equipment from the burro’s back and led the beast back into her stall. He unclipped the lead rope but left the halter on. He rubbed her dry with an old blanket and brushed the worst of the catacomb dust and cobwebs from her hide and the mud from her little feet. Olive submitted to the grooming philosophically. After all, she thought, how many halflings get their feet washed by Cormyte nobles?
“Some fresh water, more grain, and hay.” Giogi pointed out all the provisions he’d brought in for the burro. “You should try the hay, Birdie. It’s very good. Just ask Daisyeye.”
Daisyeye can have my share, Olive thought.
After shutting the burro in, Giogi took a few moments to stroke the chestnut mare. Finally he picked up the picnic basket and turned to Cat. “Shall we go?”
Cat held out her hand. Hastily Giogi transferred the basket to his left hand to help Cat down with his right. The mage leaned on him heavily as she dismounted and landed very near him, so that her forehead brushed against his chin.
“Excuse me,” Cat whispered. “It’s just that I’m so tired. I was afraid to sleep in that awful place.”
Giogi stood, momentarily stunned. A feeling came over him even more odd than the one he’d felt offering Cat his liquor flask. He’d never stood this close to a woman before, not even Minda. It took him a moment before he could collect himself enough to step back and say, “You poor thing. I think right after lunch we should tuck you up in the guest room for a nap.” Then he blushed, aware that his words could be misinterpreted.
In the dim lamplight, Cat seemed not to notice his embarrassment, nor did she object to his offer. “You’ve been so kind,” she said.
“Not at all,” Giogi replied.
Giogi offered Cat his arm as he led her to the door and blew out the lantern.
“We could share this cloak,” Cat suggested before he opened the door.
Through a knothole in her stall wall Olive watched as Giogi slid his arm around the mage’s shoulder, beneath the fabric of his cloak. The two humans dashed from the carriage house, slamming the door behind them.