The Wyvern's Spur - Kate Novak [74]
Could the stone have been the Nameless Bard's? Olive wondered. Is that why Elminster gave it to Alias? Is it only coincidence that it's fallen into the hands of another Wyvernspur?
Olive's nostrils twitched at the smell of the charred painting. Was Flattery's violent reaction to the painting merely a reflection of his hatred for his entire family? No, Olive realized. Flattery's first words upon flaming the portrait were "curse him." His anger had been directed most specifically at Finder. Finder's been in magical exile for nearly two hundred years, though. How could Flattery have recognized him? Has Flattery lived that long and remained as young as he looks by using magic?
Well, I'm never going to answer all these questions by just thinking about them, Olive sighed. I need to get out of here.
She left the stall to stand next to the outside door: she planned to try to slip out the next time someone opened it. I have to be ready to spring into action. I have to be as vigilant as a spider in a web, able to strike with the speed of a snake, as fierce and as wild as a panther, she thought.
As she waited for her chance, Olive fell asleep on her feet.
Voices out in the garden woke her. Darkness had fallen completely. Olive stiffened with alertness. The carriage house door opened a crack. Olive waited for her chance.
"All clear," a male voice whispered.
The door opened farther, but it was blocked by two bodies. A man and a woman slipped in quickly and closed the door behind them. I could get that door open with my teeth if they would just move away from it, Olive thought.
"Steele, this is crazy," the woman hissed. Olive recognized Julia's voice. The man unshuttered his lantern, and its glow illuminated Julia's lovely features. She looked less haughty at the moment. Her face was drawn with exhaustion, and her eyes were glazed with confusion.
The halfling stepped back into the shadow of the ruined buggy. Olive wouldn't put it past the little witch to exact revenge on the burro for foiling her plan to drug Giogi.
"Sister, dear," the man hissed, "would you stop whining and try to show some spine?"
Interesting advice, Olive thought, from a man who tortures kobolds and nearly had his own spine crushed in one of their traps.
Steele held his lantern up to survey the interior of the carriage house.
There's a simple way, Olive realized, to tell Steele apart from Frefford, Nameless, and Flattery, aside from his age and the birthmark by his lip. Frefford had a sympathetic, pleasant smile, which would be impossible for the others to imitate. Nameless's years of exile and subsequent tortures had taken a lot out of him, so he generally stared into space with a stern, thoughtful look-void of haughtiness, unlike Steele's face.
Steele's demeanor most resembled Flattery's. They had the same cold, calculating look, and, Olive suspected, the same icy laugh. Except for that moment when he'd been burning down the barn-and had resembled a mad dog-Flattery's coolness seemed imperturbable. Steele, on the other hand, was unable to hide a desperation that lay just beneath the surface. And, while Olive doubted he was half as powerful as the mage Flattery, Steele managed to look twice as arrogant.
"You still haven't told me why, in the worst possible weather, we've come all the way out here from Redstone just to sneak into this awful barn," Julia said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
"It's a carriage house, not a barn," Steel corrected, "and we're here because it's unthinkable that our weak-willed, idiot Cousin Giogi should have the spur. It should be in the hands of someone who knows how to wield power. Someone who knows how to make the best use of it. Someone of strength and valor."
Olive recalled how Alias had once called Nameless a man with overweening vanity. No doubt it runs in the family, the halfling thought. Compared to Steele and Flattery, though, Nameless is downright modest.
"Steele, would you get to the point," Julia snapped.