The Arachnia helped itself to more Mereot. “It’s the king’s fault,” D’Riksin whined. “All his fault.”
“How so?”
“Shouldn’ta supported him—Big mistake. No one’ll hire me, ‘cause they know I backed King Amber.”
Huh? That doesn’t make sense! They won’t hire a supporter of the king? But Westerin is a crown city! There can’t be that many foes of King Amber here!
Lydia didn’t seem to be bothered by the weird logic, or lack of logic. “I know how it is,” she purred. “Can’t trust anybody, can you? Here, pal, have some more Mereot.”
“Don’ min’ if I do.” D’Riksin chittered an Arachnia giggle. “Show ‘em. Show ‘em all. Know something they don’t know, any of them, none of the fine humans.”
“Sure you do.”
The Arachnia straightened slightly. “1 do” it insisted. “Know all about the girl.”
Kevin tensed. “What girl?”
“Hee hee! The girl! The one who was swiped, ‘course, the daughter of that fool of a count.”
“Charina!”
D’Riksin tried to shrug, hampered by the lack of true shoulders. “Eck, whatever. Know who took her?” It paused, staring at them with the idiot slyness of the truly drunk. “It was Princess Carlotta, that’s who!”
“That’s impossible!” Kevin snapped. “Carlotta’s been dead for over thirty years.’’
“No, no, no, no! That’s what she wants everyone ta think! Dead, dead, dead ... whee! Sorceresses don’t die, not so easy, not she!” D’Riksin took another long swig of Mereot, then leaned forward as much as stiff chitin would allow, whispering confidentially, “It was rebels took the girl, rebels led by Princess Carlotta.”
“But why?
The Arachnia chittered to itself, then tried to pour itself another drink. Nothing happened. It upended the bottle, looking blearily inside. “Empty,” it said sadly. “No more Mereot for poor D’Rikish—D’Rishkin
But Lydia had already ordered a new bottle. “Here, pal. Drink up. Tell us why Princess Carlotta stole the girl.”
D’Riksin chittered and drank, “Wheeee!” it laughed. “She wants to use the girl against King Amber!”
“That’s ridiculous!” Kevin said. “Charina may be Count Volmar’s niece, but she’s not all that important.”
The Arachnia blinked and leaned forward again, studying the bardling closely. Kevin stared back, trying not to flinch at this close-up view of the being’s compound eyes. “You’re the one was copyin’ the manshu —manshi—the book.”
“How would you know—Ow!”
Lydia had kicked him under the table. She glared at the bardling, warning him to keep quiet. D’Riksin continued, heedless, “Wanna know a secret? Bet you don’ know the stuff you were copyin’ had a spell hid in it” The being nodded, pleased with itself. “Yup, did!”
It fell silent, staring moodily into its flagon. Lydia asked, very gently, “What kind of a spell, pal?”
chidden spell!”
“Well, yes,” she said with more patience than Kevin would ever have believed, “we gathered that. What fund of a hidden spell?”
“Don’ think I should tell ya.”
“Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you’re making this all up.” Lydia folded her arms in pretend indignation. “A fine thing when you can’t even trust a drinking buddy to tell the truth.”
“I am. tellin’ the truth,” D’Riksin whined. “Not sure, y’unnerstand. But rumor is, it’s a spell to keep Princess Carlotta from changin’ shape—’Cause if she did, if the spell works, she’d be stuck in her true self forever ‘n’
