The raven finished changing into a man. He wore a black cloak of great size. Silky black hair, shinier than raven's feathers, hung to his shoulders. His face was turned away from Olive, but the halfling had no trouble hearing his words, and there was something disturbingly familiar in his deep bass rumble. "Well, Catling?" he demanded.
Cat trembled and bowed her head. When she spoke, her tone was so meek that Olive cringed to hear it. "Forgive me, master; Cat said. "I failed at the task you set me."
Without a word, Flattery backhanded the woman across her face. The crack of his hand on Cat's flesh startled Daisyeye, who kicked at her stall and nickered nervously. Olive backed up, prepared for an awful fight. Only last month, she'd witnessed Jade slash the finger off some fool mercenary who'd pinched her, and, of course, everyone who'd tried to keep Alias as a slave was dead, by her hand or the hands of her allies. Olive had a momentary fear that the carriage house would not be big enough to contain any magical reaction by the sharp-tongued female mage, sister to both Jade and Alias.
Cat sat motionless. She uttered no sound of protest. Her head remained bowed.
"Since I set you this simple task the spur has twice defied my power to detect it. Your failure could mean we've lost it forever," Flattery snarled.
"The spur was not where you said it would be."
"Are you saying I made a mistake?" Flattery asked.
"No, master. I'm saying someone else stole it before I reached the crypt."
"Who?" Flattery demanded.
"I don't know," Cat answered. She continued hurriedly, "But I may be able to discover that information." She paused as if hoping for some sign of pleasure or excitement from her master, but she hoped in vain.
"Continue," Flattery said coolly.
"I saw no one else in the catacombs that evening," Cat explained, "save the monsters who live there. After searching the crypt and finding the spur gone, I tried to leave the catacombs by the secret door, but it was sealed from without. I returned to the crypt, but the door to the mausoleum staircase was locked. I was trapped inside." The woman's voice quavered with the memory of the fear she'd felt when she'd been imprisoned underground.
Flattery was not as sympathetic to her plight as Giogi had been. In fact, the wizard was not sympathetic at all. "You should have stayed there and saved me the trouble of listening to your pitiful excuses," he growled.
Cat trembled for a minute. Olive thought the woman might be weeping, but since the halfling couldn't see the mage's face, she couldn't be sure.
"Continue," Flattery snapped.
Cat sniffled once and obeyed. "Giogioni Wyvernspur found me in the catacombs," she said. "I told him what I have told you, that I did not steal the spur only because someone else stole it first, and he believed me completely. His uncle, Drone Wyvernspur, had told him he would not find the thief in the catacombs, and he took the old man's word as prophecy.
"Realizing that Drone must know something more of the thief, I arranged to return with Giogioni, planning to meet Drone and wheedle his information from him. Drone died this morning, however, in a spell gone awry."
"The town heralds announced his death," Flattery said. For the first time, he sounded pleased. "Not that it came as a surprise, did it?" he chuckled.
"I don't understand," Cat replied with confusion. "His family seemed rather shocked by it."
Flattery snorted derisively. "You can be such a fool. I presume," he said imperiously, "that you have an excuse for not returning to me immediately after you discovered Drone Wyvernspur was dead."
"Drone left a message for Giogioni Wyvernspur instructing him to find the thief," Cat explained anxiously. "If I remain beside Giogioni, and he succeeds, I shall have the information you seek."
"By all reports, this Giogioni is an idiot and a fop. How can he succeed where I cannot? You are wasting both your time and my own," Flattery growled.
"Yet, Drone Wyvernspur confided in Giogioni and left the search in his hands. Didn't you tell me yesterday that Drone was shrewd?"
"Yes," Flattery admitted reluctantly. He sat, unspeaking, for several moments, deep in his own thoughts. Finally he asked Cat, "Under what pretext are you remaining beside this Giogioni?"
"I told him I was afraid to return to my master without the spur. He has offered me protection from you."
Flattery burst into laughter. The sound echoed unpleasantly through the carriage house rafters and made Olive's fur-clad flesh crawl. The wizard leaped down from the buggy, grasped the rear right wheel in his hands, and snapped it in half. As the axle crashed to the ground, Cat lost her balance. Flattery caught her in his arms and spun around wildly. To Olive, his treatment of the woman appeared not like a dancer swinging a partner, but like a vicious dog shaking a rag doll.
When he stopped his mad capering, Flattery fell back against Daisyeye's stall. Still holding Cat in his arms, he whispered harshly, "The Wyvernspur never breathed who could protect you should I find you've betrayed me. Don't ever forget that."
A dim beam of light illuminated his face, revealing the terrifying rictus grin he wore. Olive's heart skipped several beats, and she forgot to breathe for a moment as she stared in horror at Flattery's face. He had cruel ice-blue eyes, a hawk nose, thin lips, a sharp jawline—all the features of a Wyvernspur on a face younger than Nameless's and older than Steele's and Frefford's. The face of Jade's murderer.
"You trust me with so little. How can it be in my power to betray you?" Cat asked.
Flattery's eyes glowered. "Don't nip at me, foolish Cat. What's annoyed you now?"
"You did not tell me of the guardian of the crypt."
Flattery shrugged as he set her down. "What of it?"
"The guardian slays anyone in the crypt who is not a Wyvernspur. You told me nothing of this. You did not even tell me you were a Wyvernspur."
"So you've figured that out, have you?" Flattery laughed. "What difference does it make? I saw to your protection. I gave you my name."
"Is that the only reason you insisted I wed you?" Cat asked. Her tone was meek but expectant.
Flattery laughed again. "Is your pride wounded. Cat?"
"Is that the only reason?" Cat demanded more firmly.
Flattery sobered. "I haven't decided yet," he replied coldly.
"Suppose the guardian hadn't recognized our marriage? You're a Wyvernspur. Why didn't you go after the spur yourself? Why did you send me in your place?"
Flattery's hand shot out with the swiftness of a viper, gathering up the front of Cat's robes and pulling her toward him so that her face was just below his. "You have to do something to prove your worth, you lazy witch," the wizard said.
Moving his hands to her waist, Flattery lifted the woman from the ground and tossed her away from him, but, like her namesake, Cat managed to twist about and land on her feet. Flattery grabbed at her long hair and pulled her back toward him. He yanked her around by her arm.
"You have sworn to serve me," he reminded her.
Cat's stance became submissive at once. Her shoulders slumped. Her head was again bowed. All the fight, what little there was of it, had gone out of the woman. She whispered, "Yes, master."
Flattery smiled. "I will expect to meet with you again tomorrow," he said.
"I will arrange it, master."
"Spur this Giogioni on, Catling. I know you can."
"Yes, master."
Flattery pushed himself away from Daisyeve's stall and walked back toward the buggy. He spun around to keep Cat in his sight, as if expecting her to jump him once his back was turned, but she remained as still as ever. Olive, too, remained frozen, terrified of revealing her position.
Bored by Cat's silence and submissiveness, Flattery let his gaze wander past her. His eyes fell on the portrait of the Nameless Bard that hung in Olive's stall.
The wizard snarled like an animal. "Flame spears," he said, gesturing with his hands toward the stall. Jets of flame sprang from his fingertips and enveloped the painting hanging over Olive's oat bucket. The painting crashed to the floor and spread fire to the straw on the floor, Daisyeye, in the stall next door, whinnied.
"Master Flattery, what are you doing?" Cat cried out with fright.
"What do you care? Curse him. Curse them all. May their homes burn while they dream inside."
"This place is too useful for private meetings," Cat argued, rushing toward the fire, her meekness now forgotten.
"Then you preserve it," Flattery snapped. He flung his arms out from his body and snarled a chant of arcane words. His voice became hoarse and sharp, and his form small and feathered. He cawed raucously in his raven shape, then hurtled out the open window and into the gloom.
Cursing, Cat grabbed the burro's oat bucket and used it to dredge water from the beast's trough to throw on the fire. By the time she had doused the last flame and spark, the mage was as sodden as the straw around her.
Cat picked the portrait up from the ground, but the paint was too blackened for her to make out what there was about it that had so angered Flattery. She leaned the charred frame and canvas against the wall and turned to the next stall to calm Daisyeye. The mare accepted her caresses and reassurances and could not find the heart to refuse another handful of oats from the mage.
Stupid horse, Olive thought.
It was then that Cat noticed the missing burro.
"Birdie?" she whispered. "Little one?"
Olive froze.
"Birdie, I know you're in here. Come out, you silly ass."
Olive held her breath.
Cat rustled her hand in the oat bag. "Want a treat, Birdie?"
Olive felt her nose twitch from the smell of smoke.
"Have it your way," Cat said into the darkness. "Giogioni can think you caused this mess for all I care." After giving Daisyeye a last pat on the rear, the mage returned to the outer door, joined the lower half to the upper, slipped outside, and closed the door behind her.
Olive remained still, hidden in the shadows of the carriage house, until long after the sound of Cat's footsteps faded from her hearing.
She crept back into her blackened stall, keeping a sharp eye out for any telltale sparks Cat might have missed. The mage seemed to have done an adequate job keeping the carriage house from destruction. Too bad she hasn't got the same concern for Giogi, the halfling thought.
Even if she was concerned for the young Wyvernspur noble, Olive couldn't picture Cat standing in Flattery's way should he decide to destroy Giogi the way he murdered Jade.
It was beyond Olive's capacity to understand how Cat could transform from a clever and confident mage, able to manipulate foolish young men into taking her home, to a humble and frightened slave, who watched in silence while someone wrecked carriages and burned down horse stalls. What kind of power did Flattery have over her that he could bully her like a whipped child and had even coerced her into marriage?
Somehow, Olive realized, she had to keep Cat from doublecrossing Giogi. Olive snorted derisively at herself. I have as much chance at that, the halfling thought, as I do at convincing her to help me destroy Flattery to avenge Jade.
She would be the perfect choice, though, Olive mused. Flattery trusts her as much as his insanity will allow. It would be so fitting if he were destroyed by someone with the same face as the woman he murdered.
Olive pondered the idea while she munched on hay in the smoky carriage house.
*****
Giogi reached out and stroked his new cousin's tiny left hand. Her delicate fingers opened at his touch, like a moss rose in the sun.
"She's just perfect, Freffie," Giogi whispered. "As pretty as her mother."
"Well, she gets some of her good looks from me, don't you think?" Frefford asked.
Giogi looked up at his Cousin Frefford and back down at the baby girl sleeping in the maple cradle. Then he looked up again at Frefford, then back down at the baby. "Not if she's lucky," he said with a grin.
Frefford chuckled.
"It's so exciting, Freffie," Giogi said. "You're a father now, and I'm an uncle. Wait. I'm not really, am I? Just a second cousin once removed."
"You can be an uncle if you want, Giogi," Frefford said. "Lady Amber Leona Wyvernspur," Frefford whispered to the sleeping baby, "this is your rich Uncle JoJo. Learn to say his name, and he'll buy you all the ponies you want."
Giogi grinned.
"I'm going to check to see if Gaylyn's awake yet," Frefford said. "You can stay here if you like."
Giogi nodded. "Give Gaylyn my regards," he said.
"I will," Frefford whispered. He tiptoed from the nursery, where his daughter lay on display for well-wishers to view while his wife slept undisturbed in the next room.
Giogi had the baby all to himself now, since the well-wishers had been few so far. Some, no doubt, had been discouraged by the awkwardness of having to deliver congratulations and condolences in the same breath. The majority, Giogi assumed, had been put off by the awful weather.
The sleet had wrapped everything in a thick coating of ice and Immersea looked like it had been encased in glass. Unwilling to risk Daisyeye on the slick roads, Giogi had once again hiked up the path to Redstone. It had been rough going, but the fields and marshes had offered his feet far more traction than the cobblestone roads would have. This latest exertion, combined with having risen at dawn after a late night of drinking, followed by walking miles through the catacombs, had left the nobleman exhausted.
Giogi slid a rocking chair up beside the cradle and collapsed into it. "There's nothing I'd rather do than just sit here with you, Amberry," he whispered to the baby. "It's so snug and peaceful here, I could almost forget all the bad things that have happened."
