“Just a minute, Aunt Dorath. I’m, um, trapped under a—a gong,” Giogi called out, banging on the brass gong beside the desk.
Cat stepped away from the door and crept to Giogi’s side. “I have to hide now,” she said. Good luck. Take care.” She took another potion vial from the shelf and unstoppered it. After taking only a little sip, she restoppered and pocketed the rest of the potion. In a moment, she vanished before their eyes.
“Frefford, are you in there with your cousin?” called the voice of doom.
“Yes, Aunt Dorath.”
“Open this door immediately.”
Frefford strode over to the door and yanked on the handle. “It seems to be stuck, Aunt Dorath. I must have bent a hinge when I broke it down before.”
“Keep pulling at it,” Aunt Dorath demanded. “Giogi, you get out from under that gong and give Frefford a hand.”
“Yes, Aunt Dorath,” Giogi called out, giving the gong another bang. He felt something brush against his lips. “Cat?” he whispered. The invisible mage kissed him again, on his ear.
“Behave yourself,” he whispered.
“I am behaving,” Cat whispered back.
“Yes. Badly,” he replied, although he was unable to keep the grin from his lips.
The spell that Cat had cast to hold the door shut wore off suddenly, with an almost tangible crack. Unprepared, Frefford bashed the door into his head, and Aunt Dorath came tumbling into the room.
Giogi rushed forward to help the elderly woman to her feet.
Dorath rose on her own and shook off her nephew with a look of displeasure. “Gaylyn told me you were up here. You’ve frightened her half to death. I demand to know what you’ve been doing!”
“I came up to look at Uncle Drone’s journal,” Giogi explained. “I thought he might have something to say about the spur in it, but it was—”
“Firetrapped, you fool!” Dorath interrupted. “How many times has your uncle told you not to touch things in his lab? You almost didn’t live to see your tenth year because of that incident with the bottled efreet, or have you forgotten?”
“No, Aunt Dorath. I had not. I thought it was worth the risk if it helped us find the spur.”
“If your uncle knew anything about the spur, don’t you think he would have told me?” Aunt Dorath snapped.
Giogi bit his tongue.
“That book and this room are off-limits to you for good reason. Isn’t it bad enough that one of those spells killed your uncle?”
“But, I thought—” Giogi began, but, catching sight of Frefford, who stood behind Aunt Dorath, shaking his head warningly, he let his words trail off. Obviously Frefford hadn’t wanted to worry the older lady with his theory that something had broken in.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Dorath,” Giogi said simply. “I shan’t do it again.”
“And who is this?” Dorath asked, finally noticing Olive standing very quietly to one side.
Frefford stepped forward. “Surely, Aunt Dorath, you must remember Olive Ruskettle—the bard that sang at my wedding reception.”
Dorath squinted at the halfling. “You’re the one with the companion who tried to kill Giogi.”
“Um, yes,” Olive admitted, “but we stopped her in time if you’ll remember.”
“Oh, I remember. I just don’t know why you bothered. Giogi is determined not to see out his first quarter-century. However did you get involved in this harebrained scheme?” Dorath asked Olive.
Olive picked her words carefully. “I came along as an advisor. I have some experience with magic. Unfortunately, I was not quick enough to prevent your nephew from setting off the firetrap. I am so sorry that we alarmed you. I think perhaps you are right. This room is beyond my expertise, as well as that of your nephew’s. We should all leave immediately.”
Pacified some by the halfling’s agreeableness, Dorath grew calmer. “Perhaps, Mistress Ruskettle, since you are here, you and my nephew would care to join us for lunch. I know Gaylyn would be glad for the company. Confinement has been so tedious for her. She’s such a high-spirited young woman. Giogi will be glad to make some time in his castle-destroying schedule, won’t you?”
“What are you having?” Giogi asked.
Aunt Dorath shot the young nobleman an angry look.
“Glad to stay,” Giogi quickly amended.
“Then after lunch you can take some packages up to the House of the Lady, for the memorial service tonight. Frefford can then devote some time to Gaylyn.”
“I’d be happy to oblige,” Giogi said.
“It’s just like your Uncle Drone to leave a note behind that we use Selûne’s temple for his memorial service,” Dorath said as she began descending the stairs. “He knew how much I hate traveling up that hill.”
Olive and the gentlemen followed the elderly woman down the outside staircase. Olive shot a look back into the room, but, of course, she saw no one within, only the massive clutter. With the excitement of the last few minutes, and her state of confusion and indecision about Cat, and, of course, her anticipation of lunch, the halfling completely forgot the unseen figure that had followed them up the tower’s inner staircase.
16
The House of the Lady
The cook at Redstone lacked Thomas’s talents with sauces and seasonings, but Gaylyn’s company added considerable cheer to the lunch. She was shrewd enough not to ask about Cat in front of Aunt Dorath, but she regaled them with funny stories of the naughty things she did as a child. Olive got the impression the lady would turn out to be a pretty permissive parent.
Steele never showed up for the meal, which also added to everyone’s lightheartedness. Sudacar did show, and, giving Giogi one of his sly winks, seated himself beside Julia and attended to her every word.
Giogi and Olive both felt very strange watching Julia’s behavior in Sudacar’s presence. She’d become the model of a sweet, modest young lady in the Lord of Immersea’s presence. Giogi’s feeling of family loyalty struggled with his urge to warn Sudacar of Julia’s natural viciousness. Olive, for her part, was reminded of Cat, who kept her sardonic nature around Giogi in check to keep his favor, and around Flattery to keep her head from being staved in.
Near the end of the meal, Gaylyn excused herself to check on the baby, and Aunt Dorath went with her. In his aunt’s absence, Giogi asked Olive to tell them all about her travels last season with Alias of Westgate, and Frefford insisted. So the halfling complied, without actually mentioning the secret of Alias’s—and Jade’s and Cat’s—origins. She made a point of mentioning the help they had from the Nameless Bard, but none of the Wyvernspurs seemed to have heard of their black sheep ancestor.
As she spoke, Olive grew aware that Lord Sudacar was studying her more intensely than he ever had when she had told the same story in the Five Fine Fish. Then she remembered that she still wore the device of the Harpers. The king’s man did not interrupt her, however, nor question her about the pin. Her story carried them to the end of the meal, and when Giogi announced that they must be going, Olive sighed inwardly in relief to be escaping Sudacar’s stare. In the tavern he seemed just a retired adventurer, but here he represented the law of the land, and Olive was always uncomfortable with laws.
The sky was still clear and bright, and the sun still high in the sky, when Olive and Giogi climbed into their rented carriage. Olive sat beside Giogi on the driver’s seat, partly to keep him company and partly to avoid the crush of food boxes they’d been volunteered to take up to the temple for that evening’s memorial service. Dorath apparently expected a big turnout and didn’t want to be caught short.
“I’ve spent all winter here in Immersea,” Olive said as they pulled away from the castle, “but I’ve yet to visit this temple. People tell me it’s very impressive. I’ve never met Mother Lleddew, either. She’s a bit of a recluse, I understand. What’s she like?”