"First thing in the morning for Giogi, isn't that somewhere around noon?" Shaver joked.
"For your information," Giogi replied with a haughty tone, too inebriated to consider what he was saying, "I'll be up before the crack of dawn tomorrow, crawling through the family crypt."
"Whatever for?" Chancy asked.
"Someone's stole the spur and he's trapped down there," Giogi explained in a conspiratorial whisper. "Or not," he added, still confused by Uncle Drone's mysterious confidence to the contrary.
"Not really?" Shaver gasped.
Lambsie and Chancy looked up with horror.
Too late Giogi recalled that Aunt Dorath hadn't wanted outsiders to know about the theft.
"But the spur's supposed to ensure your family's success," Chancy said.
"No," Shaver corrected, "his family succession. Right, Giogi?"
"That's just a superstition. Look, do you think you might keep this between the four of us?" Giogi asked. "It's best if it doesn't get around."
"Of course," Shaver said. Lambsie and Chancy nodded in agreement.
Looking at his friends' faces, Giogi did not feel reassured. They were all too blank. One of Uncle Drone's little sayings popped into his head: Nothing flutters so frantically when caged like a secret, nor flies so fast when released.
Giogi didn't like to imagine Aunt Dorath's reaction if, when she sat down to breakfast tomorrow, she were to find a letter of condolence from Lady Dina Cormaeril, Shaver's mother. At least I'll be in the catacombs by then, Giogi thought. Maybe Aunt Dorath will have calmed down by the time I come out. No, he realized, Aunt Dorath could stew for hours and still be boiling mad by sunset.
With a feeling of doom, Giogi took leave of his friends and wove his way out of the Immer Inn. He headed west, toward the Wyvernwater. "A bracing sea breeze would fit the bill," he said aloud, though there was no one present to hear him, nor did it matter to him at that moment that the Wyvernwater was a freshwater lake, not a salty sea.
He grew less anxious walking in the fresh, cold air, and by the time he'd turned south on the main road, he'd reasoned himself out of his fear. If Aunt Dorath finds out I babbled about the theft, he thought, I can always go abroad again. Maybe, though, if I find the spur, she'll forgive me and I can stay home.
A stiff gust of wind off the lake blew right through his cloak. He shivered and suddenly felt very tired. What am I doing walking around in this cold? I could be home sleeping in my warm bed.
He quickened his stride, but before he turned down the road leading home he remembered the duties facing him in the morning. His desire to sleep vanished, and he slowed his pace. If he stayed awake, it would be hours before he had to go into the crypt with Freffie and Steele and face the guardian.
Somewhere nearby Giogi heard the strumming of a yarting and the jangle of a tantan. He turned toward the music to find the door to the Five Fine Pish standing open as a crowd of travelers squeezed its way in.
"Sudacar," Giogi whispered, suddenly remembering the local lord's invitation to stop by the Fish to talk about Cole.
The Fish was renowned for its ale and very popular as a meeting place among adventurers who passed through Immersea. Giogi's friends all patronized the Immer Inn, so Giogi, who had never felt very comfortable among strangers, had not been in the Five Fine Fish very often. It would be full of strangers tonight, but Sudacar, while not exactly a friend, could hardly be considered a stranger—not if he knew things about Cole that Uncle Drone hadn't even spoken of.
Determined to learn more about his father's adventuring life, Giogi strode purposefully toward the inn. He slipped through the front door behind the last of the travelers and squeezed his way past them into the common room.
The room was packed with people. Five musicians in the corner struck up a reel, and several people began dancing on the wooden floor. The dancers' shadows swayed against the wall whenever someone bumped into one of the oil lamps hanging from the low ceilings. The tables and chairs of the Fish's common room were built for durability rather than style, not carved, but hewn, and polished, not with wax, but by generations of oily hands and elbows. Lem, the inn's owner, was tapping a fresh keg of ale, banging the spigot into the barrel in time to the music. He looked up at Giogi and gave him a wink.
Giogi searched the room for Sudacar while people coming in and out jostled him. Finally the young noble spotted the local lord in a corner opposite the musicians. He was seated with a few members of the town guard and some adventurers Giogi did not recognize. Sudacar rose to greet one of the travelers who'd just come in—a wool merchant. The two men gave each other a hearty handshake. Sudacar offered the newcomer a seat and signaled for more drinks before sitting back down himself.
Giogi suddenly felt very nervous. True, Sudacar had invited him, but the local lord was obviously very busy with friends and associates. Uncertain as to what sort of reception Sudacar would have for him, Giogi turned about and left the inn.
Once outside again, Giogi felt aimless. He meandered toward the market green with his hands stuffed deep in his cloak pockets and his head tilted back toward the stars. At the near end of the green stood a statue of Azoun III, grandfather of the present king. The stone monarch sat on a granite stallion frozen in the act of rearing and trampling rock-carved bandits. Giogi leaned against a stone bandit and sighed loudly.
"This was not the homecoming I expected," he explained to the bandit.
The wind, chill and damp, blew from the lake. Giogi sighed again and watched the ghosts of his breath drift east toward his own home.
"The house felt like a tomb when I got in last night," he told the bandit. "I have to spend my second day back, tomorrow, visiting the family crypt. Shaver says I missed the best summer regatta in ten years. His yacht, The Dancing Girl, came in second against four hundred-to-one odds. And Chancy says that his sister, Minda, did not wait for me. She married Darol Harmon, from over in Arabel. Not that there was anything official between us, mind you. I thought we had an understanding, but I guess a year is a long time for a girl to wait."
Giogi studied the bandit's grimace. "I suppose, though, that you have your own troubles."
The bandit did not keep up his end of the conversation, so Giogi continued. "Everyone laughs at my boots, and no one wants to listen to the tale of my travels. I'll admit, there aren't any princes or elves or casts of thousands in it, but it does have a whopping big dragon, and an evil sorceress, and a lovely, but quite mad, lady sell-sword. Wait. There was one person who was interested," Giogi amended. "Gaylyn, Freffie's wife. Nice girl, and pretty, too. Olive Ruskettle, the renowned bard, wrote a song in honor of their wedding—Freffie and Gaylyn's wedding, that is. Now, how did it go?"
Giogi began singing snatches of the song: "Something, something, syncopated breath. Something, something, love transcends even death."
"Giogioni!"
Giogi was so startled, he slid off the stone bandit.
Samtavan Sudacar had to grin at the sight of the young nobleman lying beneath the hooves of the stone monarch's stallion as if he were being trampled with the bandits about him. "That's no sort of company for you to keep, boy," Sudacar said, offering him a hand up.
Giogi accepted the assistance gratefully, and as Sudacar hefted him to his feet, he could easily imagine the well-muscled arms slaying giants. "What are you doing here?" Giogi asked.
Sudacar laughed. "Coming to fetch you. Lem said you came in but left. Couldn't find me in the crush, eh?"
Giogi nodded, then shook his head. It would be too difficult to explain that he was afraid he wouldn't be welcome.
"I came out to bring you back inside, unless you're too busy rendering assistance to Azoun's granddad. Getting to be a habit with you, I hear."
"What?" Giogi asked, wondering if Sudacar meant that rumors abounded that he drank heavily and often collapsed beneath town monuments.
"Lending the royal family a hand. Someone told me tonight you weren't just abroad, you were on a mission south for His Highness."
"Oh, that," Giogi replied. "It wasn't much, really. Just a messenger job."
Sudacar chuckled at the nobleman's modesty. "You'll have to tell us all about it inside. If you're not too hoarse or too tired to tell it again."
Giogi grinned. Someone wanted to hear his story. He stood up straighter. "Love to oblige."
The two men walked toward the Five Fine Fish, but just outside, Giogi hesitated. "1 just remembered. I, uh, seem to have mislaid my purse."
Sudacar looked at the nobleman darkly. "You, too, eh? A lot of that going around lately. Seems we have a new element in town. I've got to have Culspiir look into it. Don't worry. Tonight you're in my hands. We've got to raise that glass in honor of your father."
Entering the Fish with Sudacar was very different from entering it alone. Sudacar knew everyone, and everyone in turn seemed to know and like Sudacar. The crowd parted for him. He had the best table in the house. He sat Giogi down at his right-hand side and introduced him around as Cole Wyvern-spur's son. Many of the older merchants and their even older adventurer bodyguards nodded in approval. Giogi saw some of the younger adventurers whisper a question to their elders, and when the veterans whispered back the answer, the younger adventurers turned friendly smiles on the nobleman.
As the tavernkeeper set fresh mugs of ale down in front of Giogi and Sudacar, the local lord asked, "Lem, Mistress Ruskettle come in yet?"
"Not yet," Lem replied. "Odd thing. You know. usually you could set the town clock by her stomach."
"I'm looking for that woman she goes around with, Jade More."
"So's Ruskettle. Been asking all week if anyone's seen her."
Sudacar knitted his brow. "Jade leave town?"
Lem shook his head uncertainly, "Her packs are still up in her room, not stuffed with rags, either. I checked. Full of nice clothes, and plenty of money. I'm holding it for her return."
"Business must he good, whatever it is she's in."
"Aye," Leni agreed with a smirk.
When Lem had left their side, Sudacar gave a toast, "To Cole Wyvernspur, a brave adventurer."
Giogi drank to his father, but his curiosity was suddenly running in another direction. "This Mistress Ruskettle," he said. "Is she Olive Ruskettle, the bard?"
"Yes. She's been wintering here. You know about her?" Sudacar asked.
"She sang at Freffie's—um—Lord Frefford's wedding to Gaylyn. In a way, she's responsible for my being sent on my mission for the king."
"Oh?" Sudacar said encouragingly.
"She had this bodyguard with her, named Alias, you see. Very pretty but quite mad. Alias, that is."
"Yes, Ruskettle's told us all about her. Wait a minute'" Sudacar said, his eves sparkling with amusement. "Are you the noble whom Alias attacked after doing an impression of Azoun?"
Giogi nodded. "Guilty as charged," he admitted, relieved to see that Sudacar did not seem to be offended that he'd done an impression of His Highness. "Anyway," Giogi continued, "on my way home after the wedding, I was waylaid by this dragon who ate my horse—a monstrous, ancient red beast—the dragon, that is, not my horse. A good horse, too. Then this dragon sent me to His Majesty with the offer that she would leave the country if he could tell her where Alias was."
Sudacar's brow furrowed. He didn't like the idea of making deals with evil red dragons. "What did His Majesty do?"
"His Majesty didn't want to have anything to do with it, but Vangy told him that Alias could be an assassin and convinced him to settle with the dragon."
"Sounds like Vangerdahast," Sudacar muttered.
"Yes," Giogi agreed, taking a sip from his mug. The young Wyvernspur had no love for the court wizard, who was an old chum of Aunt Dorath's. In his few interviews with the wizard, Giogi felt more than a little intimidated by the man's magic powers and overweening certainty that he was always right.
"Still," Sudacar sighed, "the old mage keeps our king safe, and for that we should be grateful. The king's health," he added, raising his mug.
"Long live the king," Giogi agreed, raising his drink.
They both took a pull on their ale and sat quietly as it ran down their throats.
"So why did you travel to Westgate?" Sudacar asked.
"Well, Vangy never really did know exactly where this Alias was. Seems she couldn't be magically detected, but she was supposed to come from Westgate. So His Majesty sent me down there to inquire of what the authorities knew about her, and to see if she showed up there. She did. I spotted her outside the city. I spent the rest of the season in Westgate trying to find her again, or some information about her, without luck. I wintered there and came back as soon as a safe sea crossing could be made."
"According to Ruskettle, Alias is up in Shadowdale now," Sudacar said.
"Really? Maybe I ought to bop off a letter to His Majesty about that," Giogi said.
"Let me handle it. According to Ruskettle, Alias was working for Elminster. Vangy ought to know that before he tries making any more trouble for the lady."
Giogi grinned. He wondered if a wizard as powerful as Elminster could make Vangerdahast as nervous as Vangerdahast made him.
"So how'd you like Westgate? I noticed you got yourself a pair of dodders. Won't get a better pair of boots anywhere in the Realms, not even in Waterdeep."
"Got one of these, too," Giogi said, pulling out the yellow crystal from the top of his boot.
Sudacar sat up more attentively. "Boy, where did you get that?" he asked.
"Found it lying in the mud just outside Westgate."
"Found it lying—" Sudacar's words halted. He looked flabbergasted. "Boy, that's a finder's stone. I know, because Elminster himself loaned me one once."
