by Kate Novak
Near the end of the meal, Gaylyn excused herself to check on the baby, and Aunt Dorath went with her. In his aunt’s absence, Giogi asked Olive to tell them all about her travels last season with Alias of Westgate, and Frefford insisted. So the halfling complied, without actually mentioning the secret of Alias’s—and Jade’s and Cat’s—origins. She made a point of mentioning the help they had from the Nameless Bard, but none of the Wyvernspurs seemed to have heard of their black sheep ancestor.
As she spoke, Olive grew aware that Lord Sudacar was studying her more intensely than he ever had when she had told the same story in the Five Fine Fish. Then she remembered that she still wore the device of the Harpers. The king’s man did not interrupt her, however, nor question her about the pin. Her story carried them to the end of the meal, and when Giogi announced that they must be going, Olive sighed inwardly in relief to be escaping Sudacar’s stare. In the tavern he seemed just a retired adventurer, but here he represented the law of the land, and Olive was always uncomfortable with laws.
The sky was still clear and bright, and the sun still high in the sky, when Olive and Giogi climbed into their rented carriage. Olive sat beside Giogi on the driver’s seat, partly to keep him company and partly to avoid the crush of food boxes they’d been volunteered to take up to the temple for that evening’s memorial service. Dorath apparently expected a big turnout and didn’t want to be caught short.
“I’ve spent all winter here in Immersea,” Olive said as they pulled away from the castle, “but I’ve yet to visit this temple. People tell me it’s very impressive. I’ve never met Mother Lleddew, either. She’s a bit of a recluse, I understand. What’s she like?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Giogi said. “I haven’t seen her since I was a boy. My parents took me up to the temple a few times to have tea with her. After my parents died, Uncle Drone only took me up there to watch eclipses, and then there were so many people there that I never really got to see much of her. When I got sick or hurt, Aunt Dorath took me to the shrine of Chauntea. I think Aunt Dorath disapproves of Selune, but I don’t know why.
“Anyway, from what I remember, Mother Lleddew was a big woman, older than Aunt Dorath, with shaggy black hair and funny brown eyes. Her temple is all open, just pillars and a floor and a roof. I never figured out where she lived. When we came for tea, my parents and I, it was more like a picnic. We’d sit in the surrounding meadow beside a little fire. Mother Lleddew would serve berries and fresh herb teas.
“There’s a silver bell you ring, and she shows up. Mischievous kids used to sneak up the hill, ring the bell, and run off, watching from the woods, but she always seemed to know when it was a practical joke, and never showed up.”
“Any of those mischievous kids used to live at Redstone?” Olive asked.
Giogi grinned. “Some of them. According to Sudacar, Lleddew adventured with my father, but she never travels anymore. Frefford said he tried to get her to go down to Suzail to officiate at his wedding, but she wouldn’t leave the temple.”
“There was a priestess of Selune at the wedding, though,” Olive recalled.
Giogi nodded. “She was someone from Suzail. Couldn’t have a Wyvernspur wedding without Selune’s blessing. Paton Wyvernspur—our family’s founder—was said to be favored by her.”
They reached the intersection of the two main roads that ran through Immersea. Giogi steered the horses west and had to slow the carriage for the tradesmen, teamsters, and fishmongers who crowded the streets.
“Mistress Ruskettle, could I ask your advice on something?” the noble asked.
“Never play dice with anyone named High-Roll,” Olive said.
“Pardon?”
“Just a little joke. Sorry. Of course, Master Giogioni. Please feel free to confide in me at any time.”
“Well, if you had someone who was a friend, not someone you knew really well but someone you thought was a capital fellow, and he became involved with someone else who you thought might not be so capital but who was a member of your family, for instance, do you think you would tell the capital fellow?”
“No,” Olive replied at once.
“No?” Giogi asked.
“No,” Olive repeated.
“But, I mean, maybe he would want to know. I would want to know.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Olive said, thinking of Cat and Flattery.
“Yes, I would.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Believe me. As for telling Samtavan Sudacar that you think your Cousin Julia is a schemer, I think you should butt out.”
Giogi stared at Olive as if she’d just sprouted wings. “How did you know? What are you? Some kind of mind reader?”
Olive laughed. “No, just a student of human nature. Men never want to hear anything bad about women they think they’re in love with. Period. Besides, Sudacar seems to be a good influence on her.”
“You don’t know, though—Steele wants to find the spur first so that he can keep it for himself, and Julia’s already done something that wasn’t very nice to help him.”
“Does Steele have anything to hold over her?” Olive asked, already knowing the answer.
“Just his bullying,” Giogi said.
“What about money?” Olive suggested. “Halfling sons and daughters inherit equally in their parents property, but you Cormyrian nobles have this barbarous practice of cheating your daughters out of their inheritance by marrying them off with a pittance of a dowry.”
“Julia’s father left her a very large dowry,” Giogi objected.
“And she can just hand this dowry over to any husband she chooses?” Olive asked.
“Well, no. As her older brother, Steele would have to approve—” Giogi broke off, finally getting the gist of Olive’s argument. “And Steele doesn’t care for Sudacar,” he recalled aloud. “But Sudacar wouldn’t care if Julia had a dowry or not,” Giogi insisted. “He’s not that kind of man.”
“So certain of that, are you?” Olive said, finding it hard to believe that any man would be just as happy with a poor wife as a rich one. Humans had such romantic notions. “That’s not the point, though, Master Giogioni,” Olive explained. “It would matter to Julia. She’d be too proud to go into a marriage penniless. Most women would be.”
“That shouldn’t matter if she’s really in love,” Giogi said.
“Ever been penniless, Master Giogioni?” Olive asked.
“Um, well, no,” Giogi admitted.
“Now, some women, myself for instance, know that their worth has nothing to do with money. I don’t suspect anyone has ever told that to your Cousin Julia, though. Certainly not her brother.”
Giogi considered Olive’s words silently for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “You must be awfully wise, Mistress Ruskettle.”
“Just experienced,” Olive replied.
If only I’d been turned into an ass earlier and had witnessed the theft of the spur, the halfling thought, he’d be proclaiming me Cormyr’s greatest sage.
Giogi passed his townhouse and continued west out of town.
“Isn’t the town graveyard out this way?” Olive asked.
“Yes, but we turn off before then. The temple road is that one on our left, just up ahead.”
Olive’s eyes followed the temple road’s progress south through fields of winter wheat, to the base of a high tree-ringed hill, where it began its ascent, winding to the west. Olive squinted in the sunshine at the cleared hilltop. She could just make out a blob of white that might be the temple. One lone cloud, an ominous shade of gray, hung in the sky to the east of the hill’s peak—a blot on an otherwise perfect picture.
Giogi turned the carriage off the cobbled main road and onto the muddy temple road. The wheels sank a few inches into the mire, but not so deep that the horses were unable to cope. Once they entered the woods and reached the hill’s slope, the going got even slower. The forest around them grew dark. Olive craned her neck to look up at the sky. The lone cloud she’d noticed before was now
overhead, visible through the barely budding branches.
A large black bird swooped down from the cloud and disappeared behind the tree line, on their uphill side. Toward the temple.
“What was that?” Olive asked.
“What was what?” Giogi asked.
“There,” Olive said, pointing up to the cloud as a second dark shape plummeted earthward. There’s another, and another—a flock of somethings.”
“I’ve never seen anything like them before, “Giogi admitted, squinting at the creatures far overhead. “They all seem to be carrying something.”
“Maybe Mother Lleddew trains giant crows or bats or something,” Olive muttered.
Trees overhanging the road obscured their line of sight until they reached the high stone bridge crossing the Immer Stream. The woods were thinner along the stream bed, and now Olive could make out the pillars and roof of the House of the Lady, above the cascading waters. The hill was entirely shaded by the lone cloud, so that, despite the afternoon sunshine, it was as dark as twilight.
Olive could just make out several shadowy figures surrounding the temple, milling about in the meadow around it.
“Could those be people arriving extra early for the memorial service?” the halfling asked Giogi.
“Maybe,” the nobleman replied uncertainly.
Once across the bridge, the road became firmer and the trees thicker, and human and halfling lost sight of the hilltop again. On the hillside above them, something large rustled and snapped through the undergrowth. Olive kept her eyes wide, expecting a deer or bear to come bounding across the road.
Suddenly something heavy dropped onto the carriage roof with a thump.
“What was that?” Giogi cried out.
Olive turned around and stood up on the driver’s seat. Something vaguely humanlike was crawling across the carriage roof in their direction. Its sharp fingernails dug into the painted wood, and its long tongue flicked at the air through sharp teeth, like a serpent. The right half of its face had been staved in, and it glared at the halfling through empty eye sockets, which dripped a milky fluid.
With a gasp, Olive dropped down to the seat beside Giogi and grabbed the reins from his hands. She slapped the leather straps hard against the horses’ backs, shouting “Eeeee-Yah!”
The horses took off, and the carriage jolted behind them. Giogi let out a surprised yelp. Behind her Olive heard the scrabble of nails trying to gain purchase on the carriage roof and the thunk of their unwanted passenger striking the ground.
Her grin of satisfaction was quickly stanched by the sight of three more figures ahead, stumbling out of the forest and onto the road. Two appeared normal, but the third leaned heavily to one side, as if favoring a leg injury.
The halfling smashed the reins down on the horses again, hollering at the top of her lungs, “Giddy, giddy, go!”
The horses plowed through the creatures trying to intercept them. The creatures made no motion to get out of the way. The carriage tilted to one side for a moment as the wheels ran over their bodies, and the boxes within slammed from one side of the carriage to the other.
“Mistress Ruskettle!” Giogi shouted as he turned to stare in horror at the corpses in the road. “You just ran those poor people over!”
“Those weren’t poor people, Master Giogioni. Those were dead people. Ghouls, by the looks of them.” Olive’s initial triumphant glee had turned to fearful concern.
“Ghouls! Last night it was lacedons! Should we try to turn around and go back, do you think?” Giogi asked nervously, studying the road ahead for a wide spot.
“Is the road clear behind us?” Olive asked.
Giogi looked behind them. At least a dozen figures poured onto the road from the way they’d come.
“Um, no,” he said, turning around again quickly—horrified by the creatures’ twitchy, marionettelike movements.
“Then we keep going up,” Olive shouted over the noise of the horses’ hooves.
“How can all these evil things dare to tread a hill sacred to Selune?”
“They’re probably more afraid of something else than they are of Selune.”
“But what?” Giogi asked.
“Flattery would be my first guess. He’s a pretty scary guy, and he’s partial to the undead. How much farther to the top?”
The young noble’s face was pale. “Two more bends, I think. What are we going to do once we reach the top?”
“Ring the bell and hope Mother Lleddew doesn’t mistake us for children playing a practical joke. You have the potion Cat gave you?” Olive asked.
“Yes, in my belt. Should I drink it now?”
“Not yet. Hold off until we’re sure you need to. Here, take these,” Olive ordered, handing the nobleman the reins. “If it’s ugly, run over it.” Once her hands were free, Olive reached into her shirt pocket and drew out the potion Cat had selected for her.
The carriage rounded the last curve in the hillside road and rumbled to the top of the hill. The clearing at the top was a meadow about twenty-five yards across. The temple took up about a third of that space.
Throngs of disgusting undead creatures shambled about the meadow. More were raining down into the clearing, dropped by giant vultures that looked no more healthy than their cargo. A few of the birds mistimed their drops; as Olive watched, one zombie smashed into the temple’s domed roof, rolled off to the ground, and lay unmoving on the temple’s granite steps.
The horses tried rearing in their harnesses once, then froze in place, petrified with terror. Giogi slapped the reins again, but the beasts were rooted in place.
About a dozen zombies, moaning pitifully, shambled slowly toward the carriage. They all wore dirty uniforms. They weren’t as badly decayed as most zombies, but each sported some gruesome mortal injury—a severed arm, a slit throat. Their corpses had obviously been raided from a battlefield. From the dented, red-plumed helmets of most of the zombies and the tattered and torn black capes of the rest, Olive guessed they’d been Hillsfar and Zhentil Keep forces—victims of their cities’ perennial war over the ruins of Yulash.
“Giogi, you need to drink that potion now,” Olive said decisively, unstoppering her own vial and quaffing the gray mixture in three gulps. It slid down her throat like a lump of mercury and left a cold feeling in her stomach.
Giogi dropped the reins and pulled out his potion. As he poured it down his throat, Olive stood up on the driver’s seat and surveyed the zombies imperiously. The cold in her stomach spread to her heart. She felt a surge of power in her spirit. It was a moment before she recovered sufficiently to issue a command. “Get thee hence, vile creatures,” she ordered the undead, waving her hand in the directions of the trees.
The zombies ceased moaning and looked up at the halfling. Then they shuffled a little more quickly in the direction of the carriage.
“Well, that worked real well,” Olive muttered, pitching the empty potion bottle at the forehead of the lead zombie. She wondered if Cat had made an honest mistake. At least it wasn’t poison, the halfling thought as she scrambled into the carriage through the front window.
Recovering from the first dizzying effect of the golden potion, Giogi shouted, “What now?”
“Draw your weapon and defend yourself,” Olive hollered from inside the carriage.
“What are you doing?” the nobleman shouted back, teasing out the peace knot that bound his foil to its sheath.
“Getting ammo,” Olive explained. “Gee, its a mess in here.”
The lead pair of horses broke down entirely, dropping to their knees as the undead approached. The zombies shambled past them, ignoring their panic-stricken neighing. Instead, the undead surrounded the carriage and began beating on the sides. A few started to climb up it.
Giogi took a deep breath. Suddenly he felt quite clear-headed and calm. All he had to do was stab the foul creatures. What could be simpler? he thought.
He plunged his foil in and out of the throat of a zombie that was trying to
climb the step to the driver’s seat. When the monster kept coming at him, Giogi stabbed it again. The zombie teetered toward him, but with a swift kick, the nobleman sent it falling backward to knock over two of its fellow creatures.
“How are we going to ring for Mother Lleddew?” the nobleman called to Olive.
“Don’t need to. I think she knows,” Olive shouted back. “She’s at the temple.”
Giogi looked over the heads of the zombies. On the temple steps stood a very large woman wearing only a brown shift and sandals. A ring of ghouls, like the first undead that had landed on their coach, surrounded the priestess. She leaned on an oaken staff while the monsters hissed and screeched at her. None of the undead, though, drew close enough to attack her.
Giogi lanced another zombie, then shouted out, “Mother Lleddew!”
The priestess waved Giogi away. “Stay back!” she warned with a bellow that could have carried to the foot of Spring Hill.
The pack of ghouls surrounding the priestess looked in Giogi’s direction. They hissed and screeched as they turned toward the carriage. A large carrion bird swooped toward the carriage as well. Giogi could see bones protruding from its withered wings. He ducked just in time, and the vulture crashed into the trees beyond the clearing.
Olive climbed back out of the carriage’s front window, laden with two heavy sacks. “Give me a hand up to the roof,” she said.
“What about Mother Lleddew?” Giogi asked.
“She’s got some protection of her own. The undead aren’t bothering her,” Olive huffed. She took a swing at an overzealous zombie with one of the sacks and knocked the monster off its perch on the front carriage wheel. “They’re coming after younger prey now—namely us. Give me a boost.”
Giogi hefted Olive onto the top of the carriage. The halfling pulled the sling out of her garter and grabbed a handful of ammo pilfered from Uncle Drone’s memorial feast. She loaded a golden apple into her sling and whipped it around.
