Tzigone made a rude noise. "Mineral-rich soil enhancers-rothe manure sounds pretty good when you put fancy words to it, doesn't it?"
A fleeting smile touched the jordain's lips. "You have a knack for finding the salient point. For a long time, I tried to convince myself that one thing had nothing to do with the other." He glanced at her. "I suppose you know my story."
"I've heard it. I just don't understand it."
"We Halruaans are raised with a strong sense of heritage and destiny. It was you who told me I was elf-blooded, so it should come as no surprise to learn there are blood ties between me and Kiva."
"That explains part of it."
"Not all," he agreed. "For a while, I thought Kiva's goals justified her methods. Admittedly, there was the battle itself. As a jordain, the most I could expect was to advise wizards on tactics and watch from afar."
"Which is why Kiva snatched you in the first place," Tzigone concluded. "Matteo says you're the best to come out of the Jordaini College in years. Better even than he is."
Andris sent her a wry grin. "Honest to a fault, isn't he?"
"I've noticed that." She stopped at the door leading to Matteo's chambers and appraised the jordain. "I think I could like you," she said, her voice sounding surprised even to her own ears, "but that won't stop me from killing you if you turn against Matteo again."
He didn't smirk at this announcement, as many men might have. Tzigone was waif-thin, and her head didn't reach the jordain's shoulder. She was unarmed, and he was a skilled fighter who carried several fine weapons. He had been trained in methods of combat against powerful wizards. She wore light blue robes that marked her as a mere wizard's apprentice. Yet he appraised her with the same intense scrutiny that she focused upon him.
"Then Matteo is doubly protected," Andris said at last, "for I will extend to you that same courtesy."
Tzigone nodded, satisfied. The door opened, and Matteo's eyes shifted from her to Andris. "You two look uncharacteristically earnest. I don't suppose this bodes well."
"The good news is that Sinestra Belajoon was never cremated," she said without preamble. "The bad news is that Dhamari Exchelsor is in the city, and he knows about my mother."
Matteo muttered a barnyard epithet and turned to Andris. "Forgive me for leaving you without a word of explanation, but these are not my secrets to share."
"You don't need to explain anything to me," Andris protested, but his eyes lit up at the inferred trust.
Matteo briefly clasped his friend's shoulder, then he and Tzigone set off down a long corridor. He slid her a sidelong glance. "You and Andris seem to be on better terms."
"You might say we have an agreement." When Matteo sent her an inquiring glance, she shrugged and elaborated. "We set boundaries around when and why we'd kill each other."
"Ah. An important step in any burgeoning acquaintance," he said in a dry tone. "Tell me of Dhamari."
Her face grew troubled. "Kiva must have brought him back across the veil. He hasn't the skill to manage that kind of spell. Where are we going?" she asked abruptly as they took a turn into a wide, marble corridor.
"Zalathorm's council hall. He must hear at once that Beatrix's secret is not as well kept as we'd hoped."
"This will hurt the king," Tzigone noted, considering this aspect for the first time. "Zalathorm has been Halruaa's mortar for a very long time. Without him holding the wizards together, things could get very messy."
"I don't think we can stop that from happening," Matteo said quietly. "Nor do I think we should try to hide the truth in an attempt to prevent trouble. Truth has a way of coming out and those who try to hold it back are the first to be swept away."
They walked quietly into the vaulted marble chamber that was the king's council hall and waited in an alcove while a trio of angry wizards presented complaints to the king. All were connected in some way to the slain wizard Rhodea Firehair. The Council of Elders had ordered an inquisition into their affairs. All three protested. They were heavily invested in important magical research. Magical inquiry at this time, they insisted, could open their secrets to other wizards and bring financial ruin.
"Never mind the ruin a wizardwar could bring," Tzigone muttered darkly. She looked up to find Matteo staring at her. "What?"
"The good of the king, the fragile peace." He shook his head. "You did not ponder such things before."
She shrugged and ran her fingers through her short, tousled, brown hair to tame it somewhat. "I've never had an audience with the king before, either." She caught the hem of Matteo's tunic as he turned toward the throne. "Does he know about me? That I'm the queen's daughter?"
Matteo hesitated. "He learned this not long ago, yes."
"Will he let me walk out of here? Halruaa's laws don't exactly embrace people like me."
"Zalathorm is a lawful king, but he is also a powerful diviner. If he acted upon everything he knew about his subjects, he would soon have no kingdom to rule."
"Cynical, but probably true." She blew out a long breath and tried not to dwell upon the things Matteo was so obviously not telling her. The man had no talent for lying-he couldn't even hold something back without looking pained.
That was one of the reasons she trusted him and why she followed him into the throne room of Halruaa's king.
Zalathorm's gaze flicked toward the newcomers, then slid to his seneschal. The blue-robed man immediately strode over to the guards, who ushered out the still-angry wizards with promises of a swift resolution. He followed them out and shut the chamber doors, leaving the two young people alone with the king.
Matteo dipped into a low bow, which Tzigone imitated deftly and precisely. It occurred to her, too late, that a jordain's bow and an apprentice wizard's were two very different things. The king didn't seem to notice, but Matteo's expression-quickly mastered-couldn't have been more horrified if Tzigone had drop-kicked the king's favorite hunting dog.
The jordain hastily cleared his throat. "Your majesty, this is Tzigone, apprentice to Lord Basel."
Zalathorm rose from the throne and took her hand. "Welcome, child. How can I serve the hero of Akhlaur's Swamp?"
"Tell me about my mother," she blurted out. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Matteo blanch at this egregious broach of protocol. Most likely, a string of fancy phrases was required before getting to the point.
To her surprise, the king merely nodded. He led the way to an alcove with several chairs and waited until all were settled.
"Where would you like to begin?"
"Did you know her before she left the city, her tower?"
"No," the king said. "I had heard her name, of course, for Keturah was considered a master of evocation and a wizard likely to ascend to the Council of Elders at a remarkably young age. But in the years preceding Queen Fiordella's death, I had become something of a recluse."
"How did you meet?"
"A chance meeting during her exile. She presented herself as a wizard tired of magic's demands and in need of solitude."
"That's it?" Tzigone said incredulously. "You had no idea who she was? What she was accused of doing?"
Zalathorm hesitated. "I could discern that she possessed a good heart. I did not inquire into her name and past."
Tzigone leaned back and folded her arms. "And years later, you married her."
The king looked to Matteo with lifted brows. "I did not tell her, my lord," the jordain said hastily.
"I didn't think you had. So the queen's secret is known."
"How widely, I cannot say," Matteo admitted, "but it seems likely that this and more will be brought to light in Beatrix's trial."
Zalathorm merely nodded and turned back to Tzigone. "Yes, I married your mother in a public ceremony years after our first meeting. She came to Halarahh in the most extraordinary of circumstances-the lone survivor of a brutal Crinti raid, her beauty and her memory lost beyond recall. The council was so delighted by my decision to wed and so charmed by Beatrix herself that they were remark
ably accepting. The history provided by the magehound Kiva was considered enough. Even I accepted this as truth, not having reason to suspect otherwise."
"That seems incredibly careless for a monarch."
"I agree," he said evenly, "and while I offer no excuses, consider this. When I met your mother, I had been king for nearly fifty years. Queen Fiordella had recently passed away. She was the fourth queen to share my throne. All were political marriages, of course, for how many people in Halruaa marry to please themselves?"
"Enough was enough," Tzigone concluded.
Zalathorm smiled faintly. "My thoughts precisely. The Council of Elders did not agree. After Fiordella's death, there was considerable discussion concerning whom I should wed next. Some of our more 'modern' wizards were even clamoring for a hereditary monarchy, such as those in the northern kingdoms. You can imagine the furor this notion inspired."
Tzigone nodded sagely. "Every female wizard in Halruaa went strutting around with her wizardly bloodlines tattooed across her cleavage, hoping to catch your eye."
Matteo put a hand over his eyes and groaned. The king, however, chuckled at this image. "Their methods were slightly more subtle but not by much." He quickly sobered. "The issue of marriage was only one of many. I had reigned long and lived far longer. Too long, in fact.
"Life is a priceless blessing," continued the king, "but three hundred years weighs heavily upon a man. The years bring the same cycles, repeated with minor and predictable variations. Generation follows generation, each asking the same questions and making the same mistakes. After centuries devoted to Halruaa and her magic-especially to the art of divination-it seemed to me that nothing could ever surprise or delight me again."
"Then you met my mother," Tzigone concluded.
"Yes." He met the girl's eyes squarely. "She was worth a kingdom then. She is worth it still. Don't fear any harm the truth might do to me or my reign. I suspect the truth will be kind to Beatrix-and to Keturah, as well."
"It might not be so kind to you," she said bluntly. "Beatrix was married before."
"Dhamari Exchelsor-"
"I'm not talking about him," Tzigone broke in. "She had a real marriage, to some young man who fell off a griffin. I can see into the past," she explained, noting the king's dumbfounded expression.
The king collected himself and glanced at a water clock, a tall glass cylinder filled with many-colored floating balls. He grimaced and rose.
"We will speak more of this at first opportunity. Lord Basel's hearing will begin shortly."
The two young people rose with the king. "But he was released!" protested Tzigone.
"Yes, in the matter of Sinestra Belajoon's death. Another wizard is dead. Uriah Belajoon died just last night, in Basel's garden. It appears that his heart gave out, but since this is the third death to occur in Basel's tower this moon, the council wishes to inquire more closely. Tzigone, if you know anything that might help Basel, I want you to present it."
A look of uncertainty crossed Tzigone's face. "You are said to be a talented performer," the king said. "It might ease your mind to speak as if you were playing a part."
"Not a bad idea," she admitted, "but the pink palace is a far cry from my usual venue. Nothing I've played in street corners and taverns hits the right note."
Zalathorm took her hand and raised it to his lips, a gesture reserved for great ladies. "Then create a new role. Face the crowd as one who knows in her heart she is daughter to a queen and a princess of Halruaa."
For a long moment Tzigone stared at the king, dumbfounded. Then she began to laugh-rich, unrestrained, bawdy laughter that shook through her like a storm. Finally her mirth faded, and regal hauteur swept over her face. She beckoned to Matteo.
"Come, jordain," she intoned. "We have much to prepare before I give audience."
She swept out like a starship in full sail. The two men watched her theatrical progress from the room.
"It is said that a king need never apologize," Zalathorm said, his eyes twinkling. "But judging from the look on your face, Matteo, I suspect I've just stretched that proverb to the breaking point."
* * * * *
That afternoon the pink-marble audience hall was filled to capacity with Halarahh's wizards. From his position behind the king's seat, Matteo searched the small crowd waiting before the dais and found Tzigone among those who waited to give evidence. Their eyes caught, and he gave her a slight, encouraging nod.
When the crumhorns sounded the resumption of council, Zalathorm glanced at the parchment before him and called upon Tzigone as first to give testament.
She climbed the dais and executed the proper bows to the king and the assembled dignitaries. "Before I speak in Lord Basel's behalf, I wish to advise this council of an emerging magical gift, one that has helped me find the evidence I will present. I have recently discovered a talent for reverse divination. I can see into the past with greater detail than is yielded by a legend lore spell."
A murmur of astonishment rippled through the crowd.
In Halruaa, magical skills were slowly and assiduously acquired. Sorcery was frowned upon, and "recent discoveries" of inborn talents were rare in their ordered society.
Matteo stepped forward. "I will attest to this. I have seen her go deep into memory and in doing so accidentally produce a memory that belonged to someone long dead."
A wizard of the Belajoon clan rose, a supercilious smile on his face. "Begging the jordain's pardon, but wasn't this girl a common street performer? How do you know this 'ancient memory' that so impressed you wasn't just another tavern tale?"
"This memory was powerful enough to conjure a visible illusion," Matteo said coolly.
"Lord Basel, her mentor, is a conjurer. No doubt she learned this trick during her apprenticeship."
"This occurred before Tzigone's training began," Matteo countered, "before her magical feats in Akhlaur's Swamp, before she had any notion of herself as a potential wizard. The image she conjured was a rare species of griffin, extinct for over three centuries. Few lore books contain any reference to such a beast. It is unlikely that a child of the streets would have access to such books. I was there at the time, and no one, no matter how skilled a performer, could have feigned Tzigone's astonishment. Her talent for reverse divination is a natural gift, and it is very real."
Tzigone faced down the wizard, who looked ready to argue with Matteo's assessment. "Give me something to hold, and I'll tell you its history."
"Here!" A woman rose in the balcony and tossed down a shining bauble. Tzigone deftly caught it and held it up for general inspection. It appeared to be an exceptionally fine opal necklace, with large, glowing white stones set in silvery filigree.
Zalathorm looked to the donor. "Lady Queirri Venless," he said, naming the wizard. "To the best of your knowledge, does this girl have reason to know the history of this necklace?"
"No. This I swear, by wizard-word oath," Queirri replied.
Tzigone turned her face toward the wizard, and her eyes took on a distant, unfocused expression. "You were twelve years old, wandering the forest near your home. There were hunters-poachers-setting up traps and lures. Curious, you hid and watched as they ran a baby unicorn into their traps and slaughtered it for spell components. You fled home with the tale. Your mother, outraged, had the poachers hunted down and killed. Their deaths have always weighed heavily upon you, and you still dream of the unicorn. You kept the horn and had it fashioned into this necklace. You wear it as a reminder that sometimes the price of magic is too high."
A long moment of silence filled the hall. "A fanciful tale from a two-copper performer," the nay-saying wizard sneered.
"Nevertheless, it happens to be true," Queirri said quietly. "No single living person knew the whole of this tale but me."
Zalathorm nodded. "I am convinced. Lord Basel's apprentice may speak for him, and her words will be afforded the same weight given to any diviner."
Procopio Septus rose abruptly from his place on the E
lder's dais, his hawklike face blazing with indignation. "Respectfully, I must protest. Giving this... apprentice the same regard as a master diviner diminishes us all!"
A subtle murmur of agreement, barely audible, blew through the hall, cooling Tzigone's listeners as surely as an ocean breeze.
"One wizard's magic enriches all of Halruaa," Matteo said, repeating a common proverb. "No man is truly diminished by another's skill."
Procopio ignored this digression. "As lord mayor of Halarahh, I have a responsibility to uphold Halruaan law. By this law, no person who is under sentence of death can bear witness for or against another. It has come to my attention that Tzigone is the illegitimate daughter of the renegade wizard Keturah. By law, she was born under sentence of death."
Tzigone's chin came up. "I'm no bastard. My mother and father were wed."
Procopio snapped his fingers, and a sheaf of parchment appeared in his hand. "Here are papers of divorcement between Keturah and her husband, Dhamari Exchelsor. This girl was begotten by an unknown father well after his divorce."
"My mother married a second time."
"Did she? Whom?"
"A young man she met in the forest. He fell off a griffin, and she tended him."
"Does this hapless rider have a name?"
Her gaze faltered for just a moment. "I don't know his name."
The wizard's white brows rose. "An honest answer," he said with exaggerated surprised. "The fact is that there is no record of another marriage. A wizard's bastard, a magic-wielder of uncertain parentage-and especially one who 'discovers' unusual and unpredictable gifts-is a threat to Halruaa. By law, this threat should have been eliminated over twenty years ago!"
Basel Indoulur rose abruptly. "Keturah and I were friends from childhood, and remained friends after she was falsely accused and fled the city."
"Falsely accused?" Procopio broke in. "Not submitting to magical testing is as good as an admission of guilt!"
"Who was the Inquisitor of Halarahh at that time?" Matteo asked calmly. "Who would have examined Keturah?"
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