The Wyvern's Spur - Kate Novak [128]
Olive reached for another crumpet, but the crumpet plate was empty. That was too much for her to bear. After all the stress she had been through the past few days, she really needed one more crumpet. She hopped down from her chair and peeked into the kitchen.
Thomas stood at the table with his back to her. Just as she was about to ask if there wasn't maybe another batch of tea cakes baking in the oven, she noticed what it was the servant was doing.
Preparing a tray of tea things. Like the tray of breakfast things. For whom? Olive asked herself. Is there a sick servant in the attic? No, in a household this small, we would have heard about it. Could Thomas have a fugitive relative? the halfling wondered. In Olive's family, fugitive relatives were not uncommon.
Why don't we have a look-see? she decided, creeping behind Giogi's gentleman's gentleman as he left the kitchen and headed upstairs.
*****
Giogi stood in the back garden, watching Mother Lleddew drive off in his rented carriage back to the House of the Lady. She seemed very nice. She'd been a good friend of his parents. Still, it was a little shocking to learn she was a were-bear.
Not as shocking as the story about his father, though.
He pulled the spur from his boot and turned it over in his hands a few times. Aunt Dorath must be tearing her hair out right now, afraid that I'll use this. Or tearing Frefford's hair out for letting Cat take it to me.
He held the spur out in front of him. Wyvern, he thought, I want to be a wyvern.
He felt no different. He was not shape-shifting.
It's not working. The spur must know I don't really want to be a wyvern. Wyverns are beasts. I don't want to be a beast.
Listen to me, I'm no different than Aunt Dorath. I'll never be an adventurer like Cole. It's just not in me.
He headed toward the kitchen door to go inside, but the thought of going back into the stuffy house was unbearable. The fear of having to face Cat and Mistress Ruskettle and explain that he didn't want to be a wyvern was worse.
I need to groom Daisyeye, he thought.
Whenever he felt really depressed or uncertain, grooming a horse usually helped bring him out of it. He strode to the carriage house and slipped inside.
There was enough light coming through the window to see without lighting the lantern. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, though, from the bright outdoor sunshine. He checked on his buggy first. The rear axle was propped up on a sawhorse so that the broken wheel could be taken out for repairs. The painting that had so startled Birdie was leaning against Daisy-eye's stall. Giogi had asked Thomas to leave it there until he decided whether he wanted to restore and reuse the frame.
The nobleman was reaching for the bucket of Daisyeye's brushes when he heard a muffled sob from somewhere overhead. Hello? he thought. Who's crying in my loft?
As Giogi climbed the ladder, something rustled in the straw. As he reached the top he could see a figure moving into the shadows. He caught a glimpse of yellow silk and gleaming copper and knew who it was immediately. "Cat?" he whispered.
There was a sniff, but the figure did not move out of the shadows. Giogi swung himself into the loft and moved toward the mage. "What's wrong?" he whispered.
"Nothing," Cat answered, keeping her face turned away.
Giogi sat beside her in the hay and turned her gently by the shoulders so that she faced him. Her face was wet and her eyes were red and puffy. "Please, tell me what's wrong?"
"Nothing," the mage insisted. "Nothing worth crying over. I was just being stupid. Wanting stupid things. I've stopped now. See. I didn't mean to. I don't know what got into me. I never cry."
"Yes, you do. You cried last night, when you were frightened," Giogi reminded her.
"Oh." Cat looked down at her hands. "I'd forgotten that. You must think I'm stupid to cry."
"No, I don't. What a thing to say. Everyone cries. It's like that poem: Soldiers have their fears,