Cat let Giogi lead her down the ladder and out of the carriage house. She walked alongside him through the garden, and he held the front door open for her as she entered the house. The couple hurried to the parlor, where it was warm. It was some time before they thought of Olive and wondered where she was.
*****
This is such a nice house for sneaking around in, Olive thought as she crept down the upstairs hallway after Thomas. Ought to make it a law—every wealthy house should have thick carpeting. She wished Jade were with her so she could share that joke with her.
Olive stood behind the attic door, listening to Thomas tread up the stairs. Third and fifth steps are a might creaky, she noted.
She opened the attic door a crack. The stairs were clear. She slipped into the stairwell and padded up the first two steps, tested the third along the side where there was less stress, climbed it and the next and then froze to listen.
She could hear Thomas's voice, quiet but clear.
"He's found it."
Olive didn't hear a reply.
Thomas asked, "Is it time yet?"
Speak louder. Olive thought.
"But he might use the spur," Thomas said with a touch of alarm.
Olive crept up the next two steps.
"Do you think that's really wise, sir?" Thomas asked.
He is not talking to a relative of his, Olive realized.
Something soft brushed against the halfling's legs and Olive nearly toppled down the stairs. A black-and-white spotted cat looked up at the halfling and meowed loudly. If it isn't one cat, it's another, Olive growled inwardly. She shooed the beast away, and it went scampering up the stairs.
Thomas did not say anything for at least thirty heartbeats, and Olive grew nervous. Some sixth sense warned her it was time to sneak off. She slipped down the stairs. Just as she reached for the door handle, she heard someone above who was not Thomas utter the word, "Secure."
Olive twisted the doorknob, but the door did not open.
The sound of footfalls crossed the attic floor toward the staircase. Olive spun around and looked up the steep staircase. At the top stood a now-too-familiar figure wearing wizard's robes. "Mistress Ruskettle, you can't be thinking of leaving us so soon. I've been so wanting to meet you."
Olive turned back to the door and pounded and kicked on it. "Giogi!" she screamed. "It's Flattery! Help! Giogi!"
"Static," the wizard whispered, pointing an iron nail at the halfling.
Olive felt all her muscles stiffen at once. She stood frozen with her face and clenched fists leaning against the wood.
"Fetch her up, Thomas," the wizard ordered, "and I'll see to her" The wizard clucked once. "So clever but so much trouble. Just like the other woman in my life."
19
Wyvern and Wizard
Thomas finished shoveling the ashes out of the fireplace of the lilac room and laid a fresh fire for his master's guest. He picked up his shovel and ash bucket and left the room. As he descended the stairs to the front hall, he heard a commotion in the parlor. It sounded as if someone were looting the room. Setting down his ash bucket and brandishing his shovel like a club, the servant crept to the parlor door and opened it just a crack,
Giogioni stood by the open bookshelves with a book in his hand. Scattered all about him, on the chairs, the ottomans, the sofa, the tea table, and the floor, were most of the bookshelves' contents—manuscripts and bound books of every shape and size. Journals kept by Wyvernspur ancestors, histories written about the family, tomes about magic, and catalogs of monsters, had all been rifled through and discarded in a most unceremonious fashion. As Thomas watched, Giogioni frowned and tossed one book angrily across the room before snatching up another,
The mage Cat sat at the writing desk, reading more carefully through books Giogi had discarded.
Thomas knocked and stepped into the room.
"Ah, Thomas, have you seen Mistress Ruskettle? She might be interested in lending a hand here."
"I believe she had some personal business to attend to, sir," Thomas said. "No doubt she'll return before dinner. Is there something particular I could help you find, sir?" he asked.
"Yes, Thomas," Giogi snapped, "how to turn into a wyvern. I can't believe with all the junk written by and about our family, no one took the trouble to record how it's done. Should I ever find out, I most certainly shall write it down."
"I presume, sir, that you have already tried concentrating on the transformation."
"I have. It was a complete bust."
"I'm so sorry, sir. I was under the impression, however, that your interest was academic and not urgent."
"Yes, well, I've changed my mind. Thomas, haven't we got a trunk of books in the attic?"
"Yes, sir, but they're all poetry and romances, hardly the sort to hold the information you seek."
"You never know. Something might have been slipped between the pages or scribbled in the margins of a particularly favorite adventure. Don't bother yourself. I'll fetch them down myself." He moved toward the door.
Thomas neatly intercepted his master before he left the room. "Actually, sir, if you are really intent on discovering this information, there is a knowledgeable primary source you ought to consult."
"What?"
"Not a what, sir. Who, sir. The she-beast."
"Aunt Dorath. Yes, she might know, but she would never tell me," Giogi said.
"No, sir. I did not mean your aunt. I was referring to the guardian," Thomas explained.
"Oh," Giogi said. A cold, hardness settled in the pit of his stomach.
"According to legend," Thomas reminded him, "the guardian is the spirit of the wyvern Paton Wyvernspur aided. She gave him the spur. It stands to reason that she would have been the one to instruct him as to its use and such."
"He's right," Cat said, looking up from her book.
Giogi set the book he was holding back on a shelf. There was no escaping. It was inevitable. He would have to go to the guardian, speak to her, and listen to her talk about awful things.
"Giogi, do you want me to come with you?" Cat asked.
Giogi looked down at the mage's lovely face. It's not like Aunt Dorath thinks, Giogi told himself. I'm not being seduced by some demon. I'm choosing to do this, for Cat's sake, for the family's sake. Someone must deal with Flattery. If I'm the only one who can use the spur, then I will just have to use it.
"Giogi, do you want me to come with you?' Cat asked again.
"No. I had better go alone. It shouldn't take too long. I'll be back before dinner." His tone was light, as if he were just going down the street to a tavern instead of a haunted crypt. Inside he was fighting down panic.
"You're sure?" Cat asked.
"Yes. I think she'll be more communicative if I'm alone."
Cat stood, kissed Giogi good-bye, and whispered, "Good luck," in his ear.
Giogi smiled at her gratefully. "I'll be taking Daisyeye, Thomas," he said. "I can saddle her myself, but please see that Poppy is returned to Redstone."
"Very good, sir."
A few minutes later, Giogioni led Daisyeye from the carriage house and out the garden gate, mounted her, turned her west, and kicked her into a trot.
The shining sun made the graveyard appear somewhat cheerier than it had the day before, but Giogi's spirit was heavy. Yesterday all I wanted was to find the spur and return it to the crypt. I get my wish, and now it's not enough. Now I have to find out how the spur works. I have to learn how to turn into a beast.
Giogi tied Daisyeye to a post and pulled out the key to the mausoleum. There's no question about it. Flattery has to be vanquished.
He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. Of course, I could hire some real adventurers to go after Flattery, he mused, looking into the darkness.
Giogi walked into the mausoleum and pushed the door shut behind him. He locked the door and pulled out the finder's stone to light his way. Cole hadn't relied on hirelings to take care of Flattery, he thought as he skipped over the black-and-white tiles to open the secret door in the floor. The family honor is at stake; the only way to set things right is for the family to take care of it. Freffie and Steele are no match for Flattery's treacheries, and Flattery's already ambushed the only real threat to his power: Uncle Drone.
As Giogi started down the stairs to the crypt, he thought of Mother Lleddew's story of how Uncle Drone had to slice off part of Cole's wyvern foot so his corpse would transform back into a man's. It was this that disturbed Giogi more than the fact that Cole had died battling the wizard. Suppose I get stuck as a wyvern while I'm still alive? Suppose I go wyverny and forget about my family and Cat and Daisyeye and fly off to live in the wild?
Giogi stood at the crypt door with the key in the lock. Aunt Dorath must have been afraid of the same thing, not being able to change back from a beast into a human being. Had that ever happened to Cole while he was alive? Giogi didn't remember his father ever being away from home for very long, and when he returned, he never showed any signs of being wyverny.
As a matter of fact, Cole was like every other father Giogi had ever known, better, actually. Cole took him riding and boating and told him stories and taught him his letters and numbers. He must have been a good husband, too. Giogi didn't remember his parents fighting very much. They gardened together and danced together and played backgammon and read books to one another by the fireside at night. Even separated by fourteen years and surrounded by the cold stone stairwell leading to the crypt, Giogi could feel the warmth of that hearth.
No, he decided, someone like Cole couldn't forget how to be human. Not until death had left him cold.
Will it be the same for me, though?
"I'll never find out by just standing here," the nobleman declared. He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the crypt door.
As soon as he stepped into the crypt, motes of black swirled on the back wall and coalesced into the familiar shape of the shadow wyvern.
"Giogioni, you're back," the guardian whispered.
Giogi strode into the crypt. He stopped before the empty pillar and pulled the spur out of his boot. "I found it," he said, dropping the heirloom onto the velvet cloth. "I need to know how to use it."
"I knew you'd come back to me, my Giogioni," the guardian said.
"You have nothing to do with it. This is an emergency. I don't want to be a wyvern."
The guardian laughed, her shadowy form swaying on the wall. It was a clear, ringing laugh, unlike her spooky, whispery voice. "I wouldn't want to be a human."
"Well, I need to be one anyway. A wyvern."
"You can never be a wyvern, Giogioni. You may take a wyvern's form, but you will always be human. That is essential."
"What do you mean, essential?"
"The spur's blessing guarantees the Wyvernspur line will continue. If Wyvernspurs were to turn from human to wyvern, they would not be able to continue the line as Wyvernspurs. So that which confers power over the spur, Selune's kiss, is not given to those unable to resist changing completely to wyvern."
A touch of relief spread over Giogi. Then his curiosity overcame his anxiety. "Suppose someone not kissed by Selune tries to use it?"
"They would think they had a wyvern's power, though their body would still be human."
"Is that all it takes to be kissed by Selune—being able to resist going completely wyverny?"
"No. You must want to be different."
"I don't want to be different," Giogi objected.
The guardian laughed. "You are so satisfied with yourself, your life, your world?"
Giogi shifted uneasily. He couldn't lie.
"With a wyvern's power and the blessings of the spur you can change yourself, your life, your world."
"So what do I have to do to make it work?" Giogi asked.
"Take up the spur—"
Giogi set the finder's stone down on the pillar and picked up the spur.
"Keep it near your leg."
Giogi slid the spur into his boot.
"Now you must remember your dreams."
"My dreams?" he sputtered. Then he understood. "Oh. Those dreams," he said. The images sprang to his mind. The death cry of prey—the shriek of a rabbit, the squeal of a pig, the bellow of a cow. The taste of warm blood—salty and full of energy. The crunch of bone—surrendering to the strength of his jaw and yielding up its sweet marrow. He felt the blood pounding in his head, and the room seemed to spin and shrink around him. He bent over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.
"A very handsome wyvern form, Giogioni," the guardian whispered.
Giogioni looked down at himself nervously. Actually, he had to look back at himself. He was at least thirty feet longer. He was covered with red scales. His arms had become great leathery wings, and his feet were sharp talons. The strangest thing of all, though, was the tail. It swayed gracefully behind him without him thinking about it. He concentrated on controlling it and it froze, poised in the air, until he unconsciously picked a target.
He bent forward and slashed the tail over his head. The stinger at the tip pierced the velvet cloth atop the pillar.
The pillar toppled over, and the finder's stone rolled across the floor of the crypt. The piece of velvet cloth remained caught on the end of the stinger. He pulled it off with a talon and nearly toppled over, trying to balance on one leg.
The guardian laughed. "You need to remember that your body is a weapon. You should practice with it—especially flying. It's not as easy as it looks."
"How do I change back?" Giogi tried to ask, but his words came out as a growl.
The guardian understood him, though. "I suppose you think of whatever humans dream about," she said. She made a yawning sound. "Dull things," she suggested.
Giogi tried to think of what he dreamed about when he wasn't dreaming the wyvern dream. He thought about Cat. Unconsciously he began beating the air with his wings, and he remained a wyvern. He thought of galloping on Daisyeye, but that reminded him too much of chasing prey. Then he thought of Aunt Dorath, knitting by the fireside. The ceiling got farther away. His boots covered his feet. His arms dropped to his sides. He straightened up, no longer needing to balance his tail with the weight of his neck.
