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 Wvvernspur, 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 lie 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. Thev 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 tlie 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.
Olive's burro eyes squinted suspiciously. That woman is up to no good, she insisted to herself, and, while Giogi is a nice boy, he's no match for the machinations of a mage. What's a burro to do?
Keep up my strength for one thing, the halfling thought, sniffing daintily at her bucket of sweetened oats.
*****
"Why don't you make yourself comfortable by the fire while I go see about lunch," Giogi suggested as he ushered Cat into the townhouse parlor.
Cat sat on a satin-covered chair, carefully keeping the muddy hem of her robes from the expensive fabric, and kicked off her dirty slippers. She curled her feet beneath her and closed her eyes to slits. The noble scurried out with the picnic basket and headed back for Servant Land.
Thomas looked up from his lunch with astonishment. Giogi, as wet as a river rat, stood in the door, looking very apologetic.
"Sorry to disturb you, Thomas," his master said, setting the picnic basket down on the table, "but the catacombs jaunt didn't quite go over as expected. Do you think you could manage lunch for myself and a guest—just a little nourishment, preferably something warm?"
"Of course, sir," the servant replied, rising from the table. "Um, sir. You have heard the news about your Uncle Drone?"
"Yes," Giogi said. "Lord Frefford told me."
"My condolences, sir."
His voice cracking with emotion, Giogi replied, "Thank you, Thomas." Giogi turned, about to leave, then, remembering that his lunch guest's stay was to be more permanent, turned again. "One more thing, Thomas. When you've finished your lunch, could you spark up the lilac room fire and turn down the bed?"
"The lilac room, sir?" Thomas replied with confusion.
"Yes. My lunch guest will be slaying with us for a while, and will need to rest immediately after lunch."
"You wouldn't want to offer anyone the lilac room, sir," Thomas replied. The servant actually looked a little alarmed, though Giogi could hardly tell why, it wasn't as if Thomas didn't keep the lilac room in pristine condition. "The red room would be far superior," Thomas said.
"I thought the lilac room would be—well, it's more suitable for a lady, don't you think?"
"A lady, sir?" Thomas asked, his eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.
"Um, yes, a lady." Giogi's voice quavered slightly and he felt a trace of alarm. He had forgotten how provincial people were in Immersea, especially the servants. "I know it's irregular, but it's an irregular situation—not one we need mention, though, to Aunt Dorath."
"I would imagine not, sir," Thomas agreed. "Still, the linen in the red room is in better condition. Your guest would be much more comfortable there."
"Very well," Giogi agreed, dissatisfied but not wanting to antagonize the man on whose discretion he must depend. "The red room. The lady's name, by the way, is Cat. She's a magic-user. She may be able to help me find the wyvern's spur."
"Ah, I see." Thomas nodded. "Oh, sir. About two hours ago, a servant from Redstone delivered a package for you. I left it on your writing table in the parlor."
"A package? Hmm," Giogi mused, wondering what sort of package would be sent down from Redstone. "Well, thank you, Thomas. We'll be in the parlor until you announce lunch."
"Very good, sir."
Giogi turned about again and nearly ran over a large, fat black-and-white tomcat, which meowed up at him with annoyance.
"Thomas, is that Spot?" Giogi asked.
"Yes, sir," Thomas said. "He appeared on the doorstep about an hour ago. I didn't have the heart to turn him away."
"No. You were quite right," Giogi said. "He'll need looking after now that Uncle Drone is gone. Aunt Dorath always threatened to turn him into a muff someday. Can't have that, can we, boy?" Giogi bent over and picked up the heavy feline.
Cradling Spot in his arms, Giogi returned to the parlor and his guest. Spot leaped from the noble's arms, sat by the fireplace, and began washing himself.
Giogi looked over at Cat. Her eyes were closed, and her head rested against the overstuffed wing of the chair. Her face was relaxed now that her fear and pride had drained away in sleep. Actually, Giogi thought, she's much prettier than Alias of Westgate.
Giogi crept quietly over to his desk so as not to disturb the young woman. A bundle of red velvet cloth wrapped with twine lay upon the blotter. The noble sat at his desk and picked up the parcel. Something hard, nearly two feet long, eight inches around, and quite heavy lay within the cloth. Giogi picked away the knot in the string.
Giogi unwound the velvet cloth carefully, revealing a gleaming black statue of a beautiful woman. Her lithe and scantily clad form was slightly arched, and her shapely arms were swept up over her head in a circle. Her face was round and pretty. Her lips were parted slightly, and her eves were closed, like a woman waiting to be surprised. The rest of her physical features Uncle Drone had once described as ample, though Aunt Dorath had argued they were scandalous.
"Sweet Selune," Giogi whispered, recognizing the statue immediately.
"What's wrong?" Cat asked sleepily.
Giogi started and turned in his chair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"That's all right," the mage said, rising from her chair."[ was just napping. Oh! What a beautiful statue," she said, padding over to Giogi's side. "Where did vou get it?"
"It's Uncle Drone's—well, it was Uncle Drone's. Thomas says a servant brought it over this morning. It's a carving of Selune by Cledwyll."
"Really? I've never seen a Cledwyll before. It must be worth a fortune."
"I suppose. Not that we'd ever sell it. It was a gift from the artist to Paton Wyvernspur, the founder of our family line." Giogi set the statue on the writing table and idly stroked the glistening black stream of hair that flowed down its back.
Why did Uncle Drone send me this? the nobleman wondered. I wouldn't have thought he'd have ever parted with it. Unless he had some premonition of his death and was afraid Aunt Dorath would lock it away from sight. Giogi took his hand off the statue to search the cloth wrapping for a note of explanation.
"Down, Spot. Naughty boy," a wheezy voice suddenly chided.
Giogi sat up and stared at the statue. The lovely lips of the carving of Selune moved, and from them issued an old man's voice—Uncle Drone's voice. The voice spoke again, saying, "Giogi, listen. The wyvern's spur is your destiny. Steele mustn't get it. You must find it first. Search for the thief."
The statue's mouth froze back into its normal alluring shape and was silent. The room was quiet, except for the wind and rain on the windows. Spot jumped up on the desk and sniffed at the statue.
Cat's brow furrowed in puzzlement. There was something very unusual about the magical message. She did a quick mental calculation. Yes, she realized, something's missing. "Who's voice was that?" she asked.
"Uncle Drone's," Giogi replied. An ache settled in his heart. That's the last time I'll ever hear his voice, he realized.
"And who's Spot?" the mage asked.
"His cat. This beast," Giogi explained, reaching out to stroke Spot's fur. Spot pushed Giogi's quill pen off the desk to the floor and leaped down after it.
"What did your Uncle Drone mean," Cat asked, "by the wyvern's spur being vour destiny?"
"I'm not sure. I suppose it has something to do with my father. He used the spur somehow. I guess Uncle Drone expects me to, as well."
"How can the spur be used?" the mage asked curiously.
Giogi shrugged. "I don't know."
Cat sank down onto the thick Calimsham carpeting and sat cross-legged beside the writing table. "Do you think your uncle was telling the truth when he told your aunt he didn't have the spur or know where it was?"
"Oh, Uncle Drone would never lie," Giogi said.
"But he told your family the thief was in the catacombs," Cat pointed out with a skeptical smile.
"Actually, what he said was the would-be thief was stuck in the catacombs. He was right, wasn't he?" the nobleman asked. He meant the question to be a chastisement, but he couldn't help grinning at the mage.
Cat blushed with embarrassment and stared down at her lap.
"It's possible," Giogi admitted, "that Uncle Drone knew more about the real thief than he let on. I don't see how he expected me to find the spur without telling me more about the thief, though," he added irritably.
