With nowhere to go, she wandered the streets after dark and ran afoul of one of the Keeper press gangs. After the briefest of struggles, she became their prisoner. She foolishly bragged of her magical power, hoping to coerce or frighten the recruiting thugs into letting her go. Instead she’d found herself drafted into an army unit headed for Yulash.
An ugly little spider of a Zhentarim wizard tested her powers. He gave her a slender book, containing only such spells as slave mages could be trusted with. From the tiny size of the book, and the bloodstains on its cover, it was obvious that her masters did not expect her to survive, much less excel at combat.
After five days of forced marching, her unit engaged in its first battle, against a unit of Hillsfar’s Red Plumes. The battle was a mutual slaughter—only officers on the sidelines survived. Cat’s magic power was quickly spent as the enemy overran her position. Powerless and exhausted, she lay down in hopes of passing for one of the dead and escaping after dark. That was when Flattery had rescued her.
Maybe rescued wasn’t the right word, Cat thought. Collected would be more accurate, she decided.
As soon as the army officers had quit for the evening, retiring to their tents and dinners, Flattery’s zombies stumbled onto the battlefield and began collecting bodies for Flattery’s experiments—and as food for some of his more disgusting undead minions. A particularly mindless zombie, unable to distinguish between the dead and the unconscious—for Cat had fallen asleep—collected her and brought her to its master in his fortress.
Cat remembered how impressed she’d been at her first sight of Flattery as he stood on a parapet overlooking the rolling fields far below. She thought his hawklike features and wolfish smile quite handsome. His capability and power were equally alluring.
But Flattery guarded his power and secrets jealously. He had no apprentices, no familiars, no companions, but surrounded himself with undead servants. He isolated himself from the outside world and everyday life, using his minions to gather everything he needed to work and live. The wizard had erratic fits of temper, which might explain why he chose to work with blindly obedient slaves. On the other hand, working with such slaves might have contributed to his quirkiness.
The wizard could have made Cat a zombie, or fed her to the ghouls, or resold her to the Zhentarim. But he didn’t. Instead he took her under his wing—kept her in pleasant surroundings, taught her some new magic, and worked on a spell to help her regain her memory. Cat was not averse to being sheltered and trained, but most especially she wanted her memory back.
A gnawing desire to fill the void in her head grew in her daily. Regaining her forgotten history was worth everything to her—enduring Flattery’s mad temper, living among the undead servants, reconciling herself to the confinement of Flattery’s fortress. After all, she told herself, slavery to the Zhentarim could be much worse.
Finally, one evening many months later, Flattery finished the spell creating the dark jewel that held her missing past. He presented it to Cat with a proposal of marriage. Cat had looked at the gem, yearning to hold it. Afraid of Flattery’s reaction should she refuse him, she agreed. She’d flattered herself into believing he’d come to prefer her company to the undead, that he found her beautiful, that he wanted to take care of her. After all, she told herself, he was handsome and clever and very powerful—she could do worse.
After the hasty wedding ceremony with the only attendant being a wobbly priest of Mystra, goddess of magic, Flattery had become irrationally angered by her request to have the gem. He demanded she prove her worth before he restored her memory to her. Then he assigned her the task of sneaking through the Immersea catacombs to fetch the wyvern’s spur from the Wyvernspur family crypt.
Eager to get her hands on something the wizard truly desired, something she could barter for her memory, Cat didn’t think twice about entering the secret door to the catacombs. It felt good to be away from the undead and free of Flattery’s nerve-racking presence. She even enjoyed encountering some of the monsters that lived in the catacombs. They were awful, but at least they were alive; you could talk to them and bribe or trick your way around them.
Finding the spur missing came as a crushing blow to all her hopes. Finding her escape blocked hardly seemed to matter. Trapped inside those horrible tunnels, without even the comfort of having succeeded at stealing the spur, she wandered as aimlessly as any monster. As she wandered, Cat began to reevaluate her last few months. She decided she could have done better.
Then she’d stumbled across Drone’s nephew, Giogi. Giogi’s offer of protection had been pretty amusing. Even if the nobleman found the spur, he didn’t stand a chance against Flattery. She knew that Giogi’s Uncle Drone could be a powerful ally, though. Flattery had taken the trouble to warn her how shrewd Drone was and how cleverly he’d warded the crypt against magical entry and scrying. After talking to Giogi, Cat fell upon a plan: In exchange for information on Flattery and his plot to steal the family’s heirloom, Cat had hoped to get Drone’s help stealing the crystal that held her lost memory.
To Cat, Drone’s death had been nearly as big a blow as finding the spur missing from the crypt. Giogi’s chances at finding the spur did not look very good to her, but he was her only hope. If Flattery found the spur first, she would have nothing to barter for the memory crystal—until the wizard found some other, possibly even more dangerous or distasteful, way for her to prove her “worth.”
Then someone had tried to smother her in her sleep. In the moonlight it had looked like Flattery. Frefford and Steele Wyvernspur both resembled Flattery, but neither of them had any reason to kill her, and she doubted that either of them could walk through walls.
Flattery could have been playing some sick game or testing her loyalty. Or he might have decided to make himself a widower, in some mad fit of anger or jealousy, and then changed his mind.
On top of last night’s shock had come Olive Ruskettle’s accusations about Flattery killing that Jade person. Giogi seemed to trust Olive completely. At Thomas’s mention of the halfling’s name, the nobleman had raced down the stairs with positive excitement. No one challenged the halfling’s claim to be a bard, even though Cat was pretty sure halflings were not accepted at barding college, but then Cat hadn’t known that Harpers accepted halflings into their organization, either.
Then, when confronted with the accusation that he’d been responsible for Drone’s death, Flattery not only did not deny it, but joked about it. That had been the final blow. Cat realized she was an absolute fool to trust him.
Finding the spur was no longer enough. She had to find the power to ensure herself against Flattery’s power and deceptions. Olive Ruskettle’s amulet of protection had been her first lucky break. The halfling convincing Giogi to bring her to Drone’s lab had been her second.
Even if Drone’s journal did not reveal information on the spur’s whereabouts, Cat could loot from it enough magic to guarantee her survival.
And, if Giogi reaches Mother Lleddew in time to learn whatever she knows but which Flattery does not want Giogi to learn, then manages to bring that information back to me, Cat told herself hopefully, I may even have some power over Flattery.
The mage could not deceive herself about Giogi’s chances, though. They were very, very small. He’s so aimless and ridiculously romantic, she thought. One knock on the head, and he thinks he’s been kissing a goddess, for heaven’s sake. Even with a potion of superheroism in him, he’s not likely to be much of a challenge against Flattery’s hordes of undead. Still, I’m obeying Flattery’s suggestion to use him to get what I want. Now, if I could only concentrate on the task I’ve set for myself.