Кейт Новак - The Wyvern's Spur

“What did Uncle Drone do?” Giogi asked.

“It was so simple, I was a fool not to have thought of it,” Mother Lleddew said, shaking her head, “but it was also ghastly.”

“What?” Giogi repeated.

“He sliced off the wyvern’s right spur. It transformed back into the mummified spur, and Cole returned to his human form.”

Giogi felt a little nauseated. Poor Uncle Drone—having to do such a gruesome thing. Of course, only Uncle Drone could have thought of that.

“I’m not sure that I want to know, but I suppose I ought to,” the nobleman said with a glance at Olive. “How did my father make the spur work?”

“I’m not sure. He kept it in his boot, and whenever he needed to change, he would concentrate on it.”

“Pardon me, sir,” Thomas interrupted, “but you don’t have the spur in your boot, do you?”

“Why, yes,” Giogi said, patting his right calf, “it’s right here beside the finder’s stone. Why do you ask?”

“I might recommend that you avoid thinking about wyverns until you step outside. Perhaps, just to be on the safe side, you might want to leave the spur on the table for the duration of the discussion. A transformation in the house might be a trifle uncomfortable.”

Giogi slid the spur from his boot and laid it beside his plate. “Good thinking, Thomas,” he said. “I’d be the proverbial wyvern in an alchemist shop, eh?”

“Precisely, sir.”

Giogi covered the spur with his napkin. The very idea of transforming into something else, even out-of-doors, where there was plenty of room, frightened him. It would be awful, he thought, having wings instead of arms and a horrible stinging tail, loaded with poison, and scales all over one’s body. How could Cole have done it?

“Pardon me, Mother Lleddew,” Olive asked. “But you said you traveled with Giogi’s great-grandmother. She didn’t happen to use the spur as well?”

“Yes, she did. That’s the beginning of the tale. Lady Eswip’s father was Lord Gould the Third. He’d used the spur himself, but he had no son and Lady Eswip proved to be the guardian’s favorite. She married her Cousin Bender Wyvernspur, who inherited the family title from his Uncle Gould. They had two sons, Grever and Fortney, and a daughter, Dorath. The guardian didn’t care for the boys. She chose Dorath as her favorite.”

“Dorath, I take it, did not reciprocate her affection,” Olive guessed.

“No,” the priestess said, shaking her head. “Eswip died in combat when Dorath was still a young girl. Dorath resented the loss of her mother. Years later, the season Dorath was introduced at court, some haughty fools snubbed her. They called her the beast’s daughter. When His Majesty heard about it, he had the idiots banned—Rhigaerd was always sensitive to a pretty girl’s tears—but the damage had already been done. No matter that twelve generations of Wyvernspurs before her had won the crown’s gratitude protecting Cormyr as wyverns. Dorath perceived the spur’s powers as something vulgar and depraved and, of course, the reason her mother had died.”

“That’s why she didn’t want anyone to know about them,” Giogi said. “Why the story of the spur passed out of the Wyvernspur family.”

“Worse than that,” the priestess said, “that’s why she never married. She struggled for years to resist the guardian’s call to use the spur. It was not easy. She believed the “curse,” as she called it, would be passed down to one of her children, like lycanthropy, so she swore to have no children. I could not convince her of her folly. We argued, and she stopped visiting the House of the Lady. She said my advice was tainted because of my were-nature. It must have come as a tremendous blow to her when she learned that the guardian took her Nephew Cole as the next favorite. She blamed the guardian for Cole’s death, and Drone for helping the guardian.”

Mother Lleddew rose from the table. “I’ve told you all I know. I must be getting back to the temple.”

“Alone? But won’t it be dangerous?” Giogi objected.

“The Shard should have finished clearing away all the undead by now,” the priestess said.

“Flattery could return and drop some more from that cloud,” Giogi pointed out.

The priestess shook her head. “Flattery will waste no more energy on me. It is you he fears. You have the spur, you can wield its power, and now I have told you that he murdered your father. Now you know that your father would have destroyed Flattery with the spur if the wizard had not cheated in combat.”

“So Giogi stands a chance, too,” Olive said.

Mother Lleddew nodded. “Remember, though, that Cole was a tried and experienced fighter in the wyvern shape. I would not suggest issuing a challenge without practice.”

Giogioni had no comment about fighting Flattery as a wyvern. The idea left him numb.

“I must leave now, Giogioni,” Mother Lleddew insisted. “I have a memorial service to prepare for your uncle. Selûne smile upon you.”

Giogi snapped out of his daze and rose to his feet. He scooped up the spur and escorted the priestess from the room. Thomas followed.

“Well, well,” Olive said when the dining room door had closed behind them.

“Mistress Ruskettle,” Cat said, with a challenging tone to her voice, “there are still some things I don’t quite understand.”

“I’ll do my best to explain them to you” Olive offered helpfully, secretly praying to Tymora that she could.

“I knew you would,” Cat said with just a hint of sassiness. “Well, first, if your partner Jade had the spur, why did she go to the trouble of picking Flattery’s pocket to see if he had it?”

“Obviously so I wouldn’t suspect she had it,” Olive replied. “She had hinted that she had something to tell me, but that someone else had sworn her to secrecy until it was all over. I presume the someone was Drone. I wish she had trusted me with her little family secret. She might still be alive.”

Cat drummed her fingers impatiently on the table. She couldn’t help feeling that there was something this halfling was keeping from her. Anxious to catch her in some falsehood, Cat launched into her next question. “If I can’t be detected magically or scried, how come the divination Steele had done led him straight to my pocket?”

“Oh, but it didn’t,” Olive explained. “Steele had the divination done yesterday. It told him the spur was in the little ass’s pocket. I know, because I was keeping tabs on Steele as well as Flattery. You didn’t have the spur yesterday.”

“You did,” Cat recalled. She remained suspicious of whatever excuse the halfling would make.

“Yes. The divination told Steele the spur was in my pocket.” Olive worked her brain overtime. Cat must not suspect she was Birdie. She had to explain why the divination had called her a little ass. “You see, I was—I am,” Olive said it more firmly, “Little Ass. It’s my code name among the Harpers. Fortunately, Steele doesn’t know me or my code name. I presume Waukeen chose not to reveal to him where the spur was, so the divination was as obtuse as possible.”

“And what was your partner Jade’s code name?” Cat asked disbelievingly. “The Gold Dragon?”

“Silver Spoon,” Olive snapped, looking up from the tea set. She reached again into Jade’s magic pouch and pulled out the silver spoon she’d noticed that morning. She laid the spoon on the table. “Her trademark,” Olive said.

Cat picked up the spoon. “J.W. Jade what?” she asked.

“Wyvernspur, of course. As I told you, she was a Wyvernspur like you, though she went more commonly as Jade More. She liked to keep her true identity a secret.” Olive spoke with confidence, but to herself she wondered, What was Jade doing with a silver spoon with her initials on it—was it a gift from Drone?