The Wyvern's Spur - Kate Novak [60]
"Is that the only reason you insisted I wed you?" Cat asked. Her tone was meek but expectant.
Flattery laughed again. "Is your pride wounded. Cat?"
"Is that the only reason?" Cat demanded more firmly.
Flattery sobered. "I haven't decided yet," he replied coldly.
"Suppose the guardian hadn't recognized our marriage? You're a Wyvernspur. Why didn't you go after the spur yourself? Why did you send me in your place?"
Flattery's hand shot out with the swiftness of a viper, gathering up the front of Cat's robes and pulling her toward him so that her face was just below his. "You have to do something to prove your worth, you lazy witch," the wizard said.
Moving his hands to her waist, Flattery lifted the woman from the ground and tossed her away from him, but, like her namesake, Cat managed to twist about and land on her feet. Flattery grabbed at her long hair and pulled her back toward him. He yanked her around by her arm.
"You have sworn to serve me," he reminded her.
Cat's stance became submissive at once. Her shoulders slumped. Her head was again bowed. All the fight, what little there was of it, had gone out of the woman. She whispered, "Yes, master."
Flattery smiled. "I will expect to meet with you again tomorrow," he said.
"I will arrange it, master."
"Spur this Giogioni on, Catling. I know you can."
"Yes, master."
Flattery pushed himself away from Daisyeve's stall and walked back toward the buggy. He spun around to keep Cat in his sight, as if expecting her to jump him once his back was turned, but she remained as still as ever. Olive, too, remained frozen, terrified of revealing her position.
Bored by Cat's silence and submissiveness, Flattery let his gaze wander past her. His eyes fell on the portrait of the Nameless Bard that hung in Olive's stall.
The wizard snarled like an animal. "Flame spears," he said, gesturing with his hands toward the stall. Jets of flame sprang from his fingertips and enveloped the painting hanging over Olive's oat bucket. The painting crashed to the floor and spread fire to the straw on the floor, Daisyeye, in the stall next door, whinnied.
"Master Flattery, what are you doing?" Cat cried out with fright.
"What do you care? Curse him. Curse them all. May their homes burn while they dream inside."
"This place is too useful for private meetings," Cat argued, rushing toward the fire, her meekness now forgotten.
"Then you preserve it," Flattery snapped. He flung his arms out from his body and snarled a chant of arcane words. His voice became hoarse and sharp, and his form small and feathered. He cawed raucously in his raven shape, then hurtled out the open window and into the gloom.
Cursing, Cat grabbed the burro's oat bucket and used it to dredge water from the beast's trough to throw on the fire. By the time she had doused the last flame and spark, the mage was as sodden as the straw around her.
Cat picked the portrait up from the ground, but the paint was too blackened for her to make out what there was about it that had so angered Flattery. She leaned the charred frame and canvas against the wall and turned to the next stall to calm Daisyeye. The mare accepted her caresses and reassurances and could not find the heart to refuse another handful of oats from the mage.
Stupid horse, Olive thought.
It was then that Cat noticed the missing burro.
"Birdie?" she whispered. "Little one?"
Olive froze.
"Birdie, I know you're in here. Come out, you silly ass."
Olive held her breath.
Cat rustled her hand in the oat bag. "Want a treat, Birdie?"
Olive felt her nose twitch from the smell of smoke.
"Have it your way," Cat said into the darkness. "Giogioni can think you caused this mess for all I care." After giving Daisyeye a last pat on the rear, the mage returned to the outer door, joined the lower half to the upper, slipped outside, and closed the door behind her.
Olive remained still, hidden in the shadows of the carriage house, until long after the sound