The Wyvern's Spur - Kate Novak [115]
She couldn't, though. The silly fop's face kept appearing in her mind's eye, wearing her earring and hair-beads and that priceless headband. She kept hearing his voice offering her his protection and telling her it was going to be all right and begging her not to die.
He cared about her. For all Cat knew, he was the only person in the Realms who ever had.
She also kept hearing him describe his dreams-the death cry of prey, the taste of warm blood, and the crunch of bone. For no good reason she could think of, the words excited her. In her own dreams, she was always fruitlessly searching dull desertscapes for something. She never knew what the something was. The dreams left her unhappy and anxious. Flattery denied having any dreams. He claimed they were for the guilty. How could such a weak fool as Giogi have such interesting dreams?
Cat looked down again at Drone's journal, but her elbows were in the way." Damn!" she muttered. The swig of invisibility potion she'd swallowed had worn off already, which meant she'd been staring into space far too long.
Outside the tower she heard the rattle of a carriage. She ran over to a window and looked down. Giogi and Ruskettle were driving away. They'd finished lunch already, servants had loaded the carriage with packages for Drone's memorial service, and the halfling and noble were leaving for Selune's temple.
I've been staring into space far, far too long, Cat thought with a frown.
She flipped through Drone's journal. It was merely a day-to-day diary. There were no spells written within, no formulas for magic potions scribbled in the margins, no treasure maps stuck between its pages. Page after page accounted family squabbles, purchases, meals, and rumors from court. The last entry was dated the twentieth of Ches, yesterday, just before Drone was killed. The full entry read:
Giogi arrived at last night's meeting twenty minutes early, astonished Dorath. Boy looks fit. Traveling must agree with him. Didn't get a chance to speak to him alone. Thomas went to meet his girl, but she never showed. Taught Spot a new trick. Gaylyn up all night with contractions. Frefford a wreck. Dorath in her glory. Healthy baby girl born after dawn-Amber Leona, named for both the parents' mothers
Breakfast burned.
Nothing, Cat thought with a sigh. An ordinary day in an ordinary castle. Arrivals, departures, births, deaths, the love affairs of servants, the muddling of a meal. A boring life.
A peaceful life, some other part of Cat's mind argued.
The mage slammed the journal closed. She surveyed the lab impatiently. Where are his spell books? she wondered. Were they destroyed with their master? Which of the undead that Flattery commands can cast a spell of disintegration?
Cat took up Gaylyn's catalog. What sort of wizard lets his possessions be cataloged in a pink book with pressed flowers on the cover? she thought disdainfully.
Yet, as she stared at the flowers beneath the crystal plate fastened to the catalog binding and thought of Gaylyn, she knew she was envious of the life the Wyvernspurs lived. They got to be happy-she would have to settle for surviving and, with Tymora's luck, regaining her memory.
Cat spent half an hour sorting through the stacks of paper, gathering the most powerful spell scrolls and potions she could find. Dust billowed as she moved piles of documents, but her stack of magic grew steadily.
Then she came upon a stack that was missing a scroll-a scroll that held a disintegrate spell. She double-checked the pink book, but everything else was in place. "How odd," she murmured.
"Don't move," a man whispered harshly in Cat's ear. The point of a dagger pressing lightly against her jugular vein compelled the mage to obey. The dagger's owner stood behind her. "One word, one move," he said, "and you'll be dragon bait, understand? Now hand over the spur."
Cat remained speechless and motionless.
Her attacker shook her by the shoulder. "Did you hear me, witch?