A staccato knock at the front door forced Thomas to focus on his more conventional duties. Slipping off his apron, he hurried out to the front hall, and, regathering his composure, opened the door.
A very small figure dressed in a fur-trimmed cape stood on the stoop. At first, Thomas assumed it was a young child, noble-born he would have guessed, based on the cape and the well-groomed russet hair flowing from beneath the hood.
The figure looked up at him with a very grim expression, and Thomas could see that it was no child, but an adult female half-ling. "I must speak with Giogioni Wyvernspur," the halfling declared. She slipped past Thomas's legs and through the doorway.
"Master Giogioni has not yet dressed or had breakfast," Thomas argued, still holding the door open, hoping the little creature would take the hint and leave.
"I can wait," Olive said. "Thomas, isn't it?" she asked, pulling off her gloves.
"Yes," the servant admitted.
"Is the mage known as Cat still here?" the halfling interrogated the servant.
"Uh, yes," Thomas said, closing the front door in surprise. It was a little startling to be confronted with someone who seemed to know the household's goings-on.
"Time may be of the essence. Would you be so good as to tell your master that Olive Ruskettle requests an interview with him?" Olive said, swinging her cape from her shoulders and holding it and her gloves out in Thomas's general direction.
"Of course," Thomas said, accepting the halfling woman's items. Trying to regain some marginal control of the situation, he suggested, "Perhaps you would care to wait in the parlor."
"That will be fine," Olive replied.
Thomas ushered the halfling into the next room, where she sat on a low footstool. Her posture, so perfectly straight and still, reminded Thomas of Giogi's Aunt Dorath, and her tone and demeanor were so solemn that Thomas grew more than concerned; he became alarmed.
This Olive Ruskettle was nothing like any of the halflings Thomas had ever met before. What sort of awful business could she possibly have with my master? he wondered as he hurried from the parlor.
Without rising, Olive surveyed the plush room around her. The boy has money, all right, she decided. And taste, too, she added upon catching sight of a marble statue of Selune. I do believe that's an original Cledwyll. Overly endowed and scantily clad. Yes, definitely a Cledwyll. How extraordinary.
Olive looked down at her dress. The pin was still firmly in place, as was her determination. She had to throw herself into this role, she thought. How does one play a Harper? Should she act certain and serious, like all the archetypal, snooty paladins she'd known as a child, or did she dare model herself after the Saurial paladin Dragonbait, who'd befriended Alias, and add a touch of concern and self-effacing humor?
What would Dragonbait do in this situation? she wondered. Probably track Flattery down and run him through with a sword, she answered sternly.
All right, but what would he do if he were me? He wouldn't say much, she thought, allowing herself a slight grin. Dragonbait was mute, which was part of his charm and mystique, Olive realized. He didn't babble. Try not to babble, Olive-girl, she ordered herself. Get to the point.
Then again, it might not be a good idea to fire on Giogi suddenly. Might spook him. Try a little polite conversation first. Hello. So sorry to hear about good old Drone. How's the rest of your family? Then let Giogi know his houseguest is married to a murdering dog who happens to be a relative.
Giogioni did not keep Olive waiting long, and the genuine smile he wore as he entered the parlor did a lot to bolster Olive's confidence.
"Mistress Ruskettle, what an honor! I'd heard you were in Immersea," the young man said.
"I'm so pleased you remember me, Master Giogioni. Our last meeting, at your cousin's wedding, was so brief," Olive replied, holding out her hand.
Giogioni took the tiny fingers in his own and bowed low over the halfling's hand. He released her and stepped back. "It would be impossible to forget a songstress with your talent, and, of course, the day was, urn, memorable for other reasons."
"Yes," Olive said, nodding. "There was that unfortunate attack on your life."
"Well, Sage Dimswart did explain that your friend, Alias, was under a curse. I don't blame her."
"That's very civil of you, Master Giogioni. I'm pleased to say that we did manage to find a cure for Alias."
"Oh, that's marvelous," Giogi said, seating himself across from the bard. "Tell me, is she in Immersea as well?" he asked, testing his theory that Alias had stolen the spur.
Olive shook her head. "No. She's wintering in Shadowdale,"
"Oh." Giogi's brow furrowed for a moment, but he recovered from his disappointment quickly.
Olive went on to a new topic. "I heard that your grandfather's cousin, Drone Wyvernspur, has passed on. May I extend my condolences," she said. "I understand you were very close to him."
"Thank you," Giogi replied. He looked away from Olive and stared into the flames in the fireplace. Olive could see moisture sparkling in his eyes. After a few moments, the nobleman turned to face his guest once again. "It came as quite a shock. He was more than a cousin to me. He and my Aunt Dorath raised me after both my parents died. I always called him Uncle Drone. He was a little absentminded but always very kind."
"Your family is in the midst of another tragedy as well, I understand," Olive commented.
"An heirloom is missing, which, according to legend, is supposed to ensure that our line never dies out. The family's a bit on edge, what with its disappearance and Drone's death. You know, Mistress Ruskettle, it's really most extraordinary that you should have come to visit me this morning. You see, I was planning to come speak with you about the spur."
Olive managed to hide her surprise. There would be time enough to find out what Giogi thought she knew.
"Perhaps my coming isn't as extraordinary as you might think," the halfling said with a knowing smile. She raised her right hand to the Harper's pin and fiddled with it, seemingly absentmindedly. Then she let her hand rest back in her lap. "Perhaps you are already aware, Master Giogioni, that the wyvern's spur has attracted the attention of a certain powerful and dangerous wizard."
Giogi gulped. "You mean Flattery?" he squeaked.
"Precisely," Olive replied, leaning forward in her chair. Without realizing it, Giogi leaned forward in response.
"Perhaps it's time I got to the point, Master Giogioni. This Flattery murdered my partner, and my organization cannot let his crime go unpunished."
"Your organization—excuse me, but I couldn't help noticing; that is a Harper's pin you're wearing, isn't it?"
"Yes, Master Giogioni, it is."
"I hadn't realized . . . You weren't wearing one at Freffie's wedding last spring."
Olive sighed and smiled. "Those were less fateful days."
The door to the parlor opened, and Cat breezed in. She wore a cream-colored morning dress replete with pink ribbon-roses and white beadwork ferns. She wore her copper-colored hair in an elaborate five-strand Sembian braid that hung halfway down her back.
She slipped behind Giogi and took up the braided lock of his hair. It was obvious from her behavior that she did not notice the halfling visitor on the footstool across from Giogi's chair. She held out three small green beads. "I found these in my bed," she said with a smile, then began sliding them into the nobleman's hair.
Giogi colored visibly. He rose and turned Cat to face Olive. "We have company, my dear. Mistress Ruskettle, may I present to you—"
"Cat the mage, apprentice to the wizard Flattery," Olive finished for him, her tone chill.
Cat was taken aback at discovering that her flirtation not only had an audience, but one who knew too much about her. Nervously she slipped one of her hands into Giogi's.
"Um, well, she's decided to leave Flattery," Giogi reported. "She's here under my protection."
"A wise decision, Mistress Cat," the halfling said, nodding sagely. "And not a moment too soon," she added.
Even as she spoke. Olive realized she would have to handle Cat without any help from Giogi. From what the mage had just said to the nobleman, it was obvious that he had offered Cat more than his protection. He's not likely to welcome any suggestions that the woman might betray him, Olive thought. Human men are funny that way. It's a pity I can't let him know that I'm sure of her disloyalty because I eavesdropped on her in his carriage house.
"Cat," Giogi said, finishing the introductions smoothly, "this is the bard, Olive Ruskettle. We were just discussing Flattery when you came in."
Cat made a curtsy to Olive, not oblivious to the fact that Giogi had chosen to present her to Olive and not the other way around.
"It seems," Giogi gulped, "that Flattery killed Mistress Ruskettle's partner," Giogi explained to the mage.
Cat did not look surprised in the least. She merely blinked once and asked, "Why?"
Olive was struck by an inspiration. She smiled knowingly. "An interesting question, Mistress Cat," she said. "One that I suddenly realize you might be able to answer better than I."
"Me?" Cat paled, no longer so collected.
"You," Olive replied. "My story is a little complicated," the halfling said. "Please, won't you both sit down?"
Giogi sat on the sofa and drew Cat down beside him, still holding her hand in his own. She looked as though she needed his strength.
Maybe this will bring you to your senses, Cat, Olive thought. Perhaps we can make you more afraid of going back to Flattery than of leaving him.
"You have no doubt noticed, Master Giogioni," the halfling began, "that Mistress Cat bears a strong resemblance to Alias of Westgate."
"Well, actually, yes, I have," Giogi said, "but Cat said—"
"She's never met anyone named Alias," Olive supplied. "That she is from Ordulin. Mistress Cat comes from a branch of Alias's family separated by ... hard times. Yet her relatives all show a striking family resemblance to one another, much like in the Wyvernspur family. In addition, all of the women in Alias's clan inherit an unusual marking on their right arm. It appears overnight without explanation, and cannot be dispelled magically."
Cat touched her right sleeve with her left hand. Giogi looked at her questioningly, and the mage nodded her head.
Olive continued her story. "My partner, Jade, was also a member of this family. She, too, resembled Alias of Westgate, as well as you, Mistress Cat. At any rate, two nights ago, we sighted Flattery in the streets of Immersea. We followed him, as we were aware that he had unscrupulous reasons for visiting your town.
"Jade has been specially trained in picking pockets—in the line of duty, you understand," the halfling explained. "We thought it likely that Flattery had stolen the wyvern's spur, so Jade closed in on him to investigate the contents of his pockets. Jade liberated an unusual item from the wizard right off: a crystal as big as my fist and as dark as a new moon. I know, because she held it up for me to see before she continued stalking Flattery."
Olive took a deep breath. "Jade was just reaching for Flattery's pocket again when he turned around. He seemed to mistake Jade for someone he knew. He cried out, and I quote, 'So, you treacherous witch, you've escaped, and now you try to steal what you have not earned.' Then he ... he killed my partner—disintegrated her with a vile magic spell."
Olive paused. She did not need to feign grief and rage; they came naturally. Giogi was rapt with the bard's tale. His mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes were wide. The cool and rational Cat clutched Giogi's hand tightly, and her gaze seemed to bore holes into Olive.
It was some moments before the halfling could bring herself to finish, and when she did, her voice was no longer as steady as it had been. "I think Flattery mistook my partner for you, Mistress Cat," she explained. "The question I have for you is: Is it possible your former master would kill you if he thought you were trying to steal something from him?"
Cat turned even paler. She nodded wordlessly.
Olive nodded at her admission. "After seeing Jade murdered, I'm afraid I lost my head," Olive said. "I screamed, and Flattery spotted me, got a good look at me. I managed to escape his pursuit with some magic of my own, but I was witness to his crime, and he has no love for Harpers."
Olive gave a shuddering sigh. "If I were farther north, I would have greater resources to draw upon to bring him to justice—companions with discretion. As it stands now, I am alone and far from home. I could use your help."
"I'm honored that you would come to me, Mistress Ruskettle," Giogi said, feeling a little astounded. "I will do all I can to help. But why did you come to me? Surely, in all of Immersea, you could find more powerful allies than myself."
"But not as discrete, I fear, and I thought you would wish to keep this in the family. Of course, I might have gone to your Cousin Frefford, but he has a young wife and new baby, and this may be a hazardous mission. As for your Cousin Steele, he is, I'm afraid, unsuitable."
"I'm sorry. I don't quite follow you," Giogi said, "about keeping it in the family."
"As Flattery is one of your own, I thought you might wish to bring him to justice, to help avoid a scandal, as it were."
"Flattery is ... You don't mean to say that he's a Wyvernspur?" Giogi gasped.
"Yes. You didn't know? I thought Mistress Cat would have explained that," Olive said, though of course, she'd thought no such thing and would have been surprised to learn that Cat had told Giogi anything useful about her master.
Giogi turned to the mage beside him and waited silently for a denial, an explanation, an excuse. Anything.
