"I'm afraid you're mistaken. Master Steele. I haven't got the spur. Maybe the divination referred to the little burro that Master Giogi had yesterday. A burro is a small ass, you know. It's missing, though, like the spur, I'm afraid."
"Asses don't have pockets!" Steele shouted angrily. "Now give me everything you've got in yours."
"I have to put these scrolls and this book down to use my hands," Cat said.
In a fury, Steele knocked the book and the scrolls out of Cat's arms.
"Now, that pocket first," the nobleman ordered, pointing to the right-hand side pocket of her dress's skirt.
One at a time Cat pulled out three potion vials she'd removed from Drone's shelves. Steele knocked each one to the ground, where all three smashed to pieces. Cat bit her upper lip angrily but remained silent.
"I want to see you turn the pocket out to prove it's empty," Steele said.
"There's something else in there," Cat replied.
"Give it to me."
"Very well." Cat drew out the last item and held it out for Steele's inspection.
"What is it?" Steele growled.
"Something inflexible, Master Steele," she said, inscribing a circle in the air with the small iron nail she held. At the word "inflexible" the tip of the iron bar sparked and the nail vanished.
Steel tensed to lunge, but he was transfixed by the mage's spell. He stood as still as a statue with his one hand reaching for the magically expired nail, the other still holding the knife. Cat pulled away carefully from the Wyvernspur's blade. Steel remained immobile. Hastily the mage gathered up the scrolls she'd dropped and stuffed them into a sack. She wiped the broken potion vial glass and liquid as thoroughly as she could from the cover of Gaylyn's catalog and left the book on Drone's desk.
Snatching up her fur muff, Cat backed toward the outer stair's door. "Apparently that's one trick you didn't learn from your uncle, hmmm, Master Steele? Mages call it 'hold person,' spell component, a small piece of straight iron"
Cat laughed and was turning toward the door when something heavy cracked across her temple. The blow felt as if a fireball had exploded in her skull and left a fire raging there.
Cat collapsed to her knees as a woman's voice said, "We know the trick 'hold mage,' though. Spell component, a stout stick."
Cat felt a pinprick at her throat.
"This pin's coated with poison. If it breaks your skin, you'll be dead," the woman's voice warned. "Now, release Steele," she demanded.
Despite the agonizing pain in her head, the mage managed to recall the magic word. "Willow," she whispered.
Steele sprang back to life, half falling forward, jabbing at the empty air with his knife. He caught himself and straightened up. "Good work, Julia," he said. "You managed to tear yourself from your peasant lover, I see," he added with a sneer. "You've hobbled up here just in time."
Julia, Steele's sister. Cat remembered. She must be as crazy as he is, the mage thought. Julia drew her poison pin away from Cat's throat, but Cat remained kneeling on the floor. The fire in her skull made any movement too excruciating, and the light in the room was too bright to open her eyes.
"Aunt Dorath's been looking for you everywhere," Julia said anxiously. "She'll check up here any minute now. You are going to catch Nine Hells if she finds you here. You know she's put the room off-limits."
"Nothing will be off-limits to me in a moment," Steele said. He pointed at Cat. "Check her pockets. She's Giogi's little ass. She has the spur."
"What are you talking about?" Julia asked.
"Just do as I say," Steele ordered.
Using the large staff she'd used to club the mage, Julia lowered herself clumsily to one knee. Keeping her poison pin pointed at Cat, Julia ran her hands through the folds of the mage's gown until she came on an item. Julia drew out a silk scarf wrapped around a lumpy bundle—the amulet of protection against scrying and detection.
Through clenched teeth Cat growled, "My amulet."
Slipping her pin into the bodice of her gown, Julia stood and unwrapped the material. "Eeeew" she said, sniffing at the contents of the scarf with disgust. From the five pieces of dried, cured meat she selected the largest chunk. It was the size and shape of a baby zucchini, and uglier than a three-month-old sausage. "Steele! It is!" she cried excitedly. "It's the spur!"
Steele strode forward, but Julia stepped back, pulling out her poison pin and holding it out warningly.
"You can't fool me, Sister, dear. I know you don't have poison on that pin. You're too tender-hearted."
"I do have the sleeping sap you gave me, though, which works just as well for my purposes. I helped you, Steele. Remember what you promised," she demanded.
"Yes, yes. All right. Now give me the spur."
"On your honor as a Wyvernspur, swear it."
Steele huffed. "On my honor as a Wyvernspur, you have my permission to marry any jackass you please. It could be a Calimshan merchant for all I care. Now hand the spur over."
Cat opened her eyes against the stinging light just in time to watch the spur tossed across the room. It looked like a piece of brown, dried meat someone had kept in a knapsack for a few years too long. Steele snatched it from the air. His laughter sounded like Flattery's.
Frefford burst into the room. "What is going on here?" he hissed. "Aunt Dorath said she heard glass breaking."
Gaylyn came in behind her husband. "Julia, you shouldn't have climbed all the way up here with your ankle. It could get worse . . ." Gaylyn's chiding died on her lips and she blanched when she spotted Cat kneeling on the floor.
Frefford looked down at what had upset his wife. "Mistress Cat, are you all right?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside the mage. "What happened?"
"Hit on the head," Cat muttered. Her head throbbed too much to say more, but she rose shakily to her feet with the Wyvernspur lord's assistance.
Gaylyn, aghast, stared at the pin in Julia's hand. "Julia, what have you done?" she gasped.
"Steele's found the spur," Julia said, pointing at her brother as if his discovery would explain everything.
"And now its power will be all mine," Steele declared.
"Steele, it doesn't work that way," Gaylyn insisted, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. "Uncle Drone explained it to me the night before he died. Only one of the guardian's favorites can use the spur safely. Put it down, please."
Cat focused on the spur. It was ugly for an artifact, but its power was already obvious. Blue sparks were shooting from its surface between the fingers of Steele's fist.
"Oh, no," Steele said. "I'm not buying that silly story, Gaylyn, dear. The guardian is a family myth only someone as foolish as Giogi could possibly believe in. I am not letting that idiot get his hands on the spur. I don't care if Drone wanted to give it to him. I found it. It's mine."
Steele held the spur with both hands and raised it above his head. "I can feel its power already," he said. The blue sparks were now bolts of blue light, which flickered down Steele's arm.
Aunt Dorath huffed into the room and pushed past Frefford and his wife. Like a mother who'd found her little child playing with a dagger, Aunt Dorath fixed Steele with a hard glare. "Steele Wyvernspur, you put that thing down this instant," she commanded angrily.
Steele just laughed. His arms began to glow blue, and the light bolts spread down his torso.
"It's happening. The power is mine. I can do anything." Steele jumped up to the shattered window's sill.
"Steele, no!" Julia screamed.
"Watch this, Sister, dear," he said gleefully. He pushed open the broken window's casement and spread his arms wide.
"Fluff-fluff," Cat whispered just as the Wvvernspur leaped from the tower.
Aunt Dorath and Frefford dashed to the window. "He's just floating down!" Frefford gasped.
"What?" Julia cried. "Then it works? The spur works?"
Cat bolted for the door and dashed down the outer staircase. Behind her she could hear Aunt Dorath shout, "Frefford, get down after Steele! Get that cursed thing away from him!"
Cat felt dizzy and sick, but she was not going to let an insane kobold-torturer get away with her prize. Because of her spell, Steele was falling with the resistance of a feather, so it would take him at least a minute to reach the ground.
The mage raced from the manor house and rushed to the corner tower. She stood at the base of the tower as Steele drifted toward her. He was still cackling about the power of the spur and flapping his arms, oblivious to the fact that he was really falling.
When his feet touched the earth and he was finally released from her feather fall spell, he wheeled to face her, his eves wide with crazed rage. "Die!" he shrieked, swiping in her direction with his hand cramped like an animal claw, although he was not close enough to actually reach her.
Cat sprinkled sand over an imaginary baby in her arms and whispered, "Lullaby, Steele."
The Wyvernspur slid fast asleep, into the slush and mud. Cat pounced on him and tore the spur from his hands.
All this time, she thought, I was expecting some shiny piece of metal, something that can be attached to a boot and used as a prod. What does the spur turn out to be? A disgusting piece of shriveled, mummified—ugh—someone actually slashed it off a wyvern's foot.
A shadow fell across her and the snoozing Steele.
Frefford stood over her, offering a hand to help her up.
"I'm taking this to Giogi," Cat muttered, backing away from Frefford on her knees.
"Well, now, it would be foolish for me to argue with such a battle-hardened and powerful spell-caster, wouldn't it?" Frefford said, grinning as he looked her up and down.
Cat was suddenly aware of how comical she must appear, with her gown scorched by fire and covered with mud and a lump the size of an egg on the side of her head. Despite herself, she laughed. She held her hand out and let Frefford pull her to her feet.
"I have a horse saddled and waiting in the stable," the nobleman said. "Bronder," he hailed a passing servant, "have Sash bring out Poppy, and be quick about it."
The servant scurried off to the stable.
Cat studied Frefford with amazement. "You really aren't interested in possessing the spur, are you?" she asked.
Frefford shrugged. "You heard Gaylyn. Giogi's the only one who can use it. Aunt Dorath doesn't want him to, but that's really for Giogi to decide, isn't it?"
Cat felt dizzy for a moment and touched the lump on her forehead. Far above them, Dorath shouted down, "Frefford? Did you get it?"
"How's your head?" Frefford asked, ignoring his aunt.
"If it were a horse, I'd have to put it to sleep," Cat groused. "I didn't know I had the spur," she explained. "Someone else gave it to me. I thought it was something else . . ." Her voice trailed off.
"Are you sure you're up to riding?" Frefford asked.
"Yes," Cat insisted. "Why are you being so nice and understanding about this?" she asked.
Frefford grinned. "You could turn out to be a relative someday. We Wyvernspurs stick together, don't you know."
"How did you know—" Cat bit back her words. He didn't know she was a Wyvernspur. He was thinking of her in terms of Giogi. She could feel the blood rushing to her face.
"You're sure you feel up to riding? You look a little flushed," Frefford teased.
"You don't understand," she said. "This is serious. There's a wizard, Flattery. He killed your Uncle Drone. He'll kill Giogi to get the spur from him. He doesn't even want Giogi visiting the Temple of Selune to find out anything about it."
"Once Giogi has the spur, I don't think anyone will be able to take it from him," Frefford said calmly. "It will be a simple matter for him to bring this Flattery to justice. As for the Temple of Selune—Giogi's already there by now. You could join him. Mother Lleddew serves a lovely tea in the open air."
Frefford pointed northwest over the fields. "The temple's on Spring Hill—that big hill there. There's a shortcut to the west side of town if you follow the footpath down the north slope of this hill instead of the road into town," Frefford explained. "The road to the temple comes before the road to the graveyard."
A stableboy, leading a chestnut mare with a black snip, approached Frefford. His Lordship helped the mage into the sidesaddle and handed her the reins. "It's a nice day for a ride, but you'd better hurry before Aunt Dorath gets down here," he said and smacked the horse into a trot.
Cat bounced out of the castle's front gate feeling nauseated. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been on a horse. Before she'd been kidnapped in Zhentil Keep, she guessed. Has riding unsettled me this much before? she wondered.
Once outside the castle walls, Cat followed the path that Frefford had recommended. From the hillside, she could look out across most of the Wyvernspur lands. A dark gray cloud loomed over Spring Hill. Huge birds of death circled beneath the cloud.
Vultures in for the kill, Cat thought, her queasy stomach turning to ice.
Fearing she might already be too late, Cat urged her horse into a canter, but the sensation of being unbalanced as the beast sped down the hill was too unpleasant. She slowed the horse to a walk. Her heart was pounding hard, but she still didn't know what she was going to do.
Ruskettle lied about the amulet of protection. Flattery could be watching me this very moment. I could take him the spur, but if Ruskettle did tell the truth about seeing a dark crystal being stolen from Flattery's pocket, he has nothing to offer me— except my miserable life.
