The Wizardwar cakt-3

by Элейн Каннингем

  The starsnake flew at Tzigone, its jaws flung open for attack. She sang a single clear, high note, and the winged snake veered away, circling up toward the ceiling.

  She kept singing, instinctively finding a strange, atonal melody that somehow matched the snake's frenzied, undulating flight

  In moments she felt the magic that entrapped the creature melt away. The starsnake shot out of the open window.

  Tzigone stepped forward and drove her fist into Dhamari's slack-jawed face. He stumbled backward and fell heavily against a rack of edged weapons. Down clattered the swords and knifes, their keen edges leaving bloody tracks on the wizard's body.

  Dhamari flailed at the falling blades, trying vainly to protect himself but making matters far worse than they needed to be. Each thrashing movement left another gash-in his panic, he was cutting himself to ribbons. Yet none of his wounds bled. Even in this, Keturah's talisman protected him from himself.

  Tzigone reached down and closed her hand over her mother's talisman. "Enough," she said in cool, even tones. "Eventually, everyone has to face who he is and live or die with the results." With a quick tug, she broke the chain and tore it free.

  The fallen wizard's body erupted into a crimson fountain, and his shrieks of rage and pain rang out into the night. In moments he lay limp and silent.

  Tzigone put her mother's medallion around her neck and left the tower without a backward glance. It was time for her to take her own advice and face who she truly was.

  Matteo slept not at all that night. Dawn crept over the city, and still he gazed at a moon grown perilously slim and frail. Moondark was only two days away, and when the moon was born anew, Beatrix would come to trial.

  Andris's charge of treason might be forgiven. An obscure Halruaan law forgave offenders who did Halruaa a great service. Certainly Andris had done so many times over. Beatrix was another matter entirely. Matteo still had no notion of how to defend her, other than finding a way to shatter the Cabal-and with it, the king's most powerful shield. That path could only lead to chaos and unbridled wizardwar.

  Last night's attack on Basel's tower was not a unique occurrence. More than one wizard had stepped forward to challenge Zalathorm's right and fitness to rule. Mage duels took place in street corners and city gardens as ambitious wizards strove to prove supremacy. Other wizards watched and chose up sides. Other illegal and more deadly forms of combat were becoming commonplace. Reports of spell battles and magical ambushes were daily occurrences. Just yesterday, three of the men who declared against Malchior Belajoon had disappeared, and no one could discern the magic or the spellcaster responsible.

  A small pink dove fluttered to a stop on Matteo's windowsill. The bird cocked its head and looked at him expectantly. Matteo noted the small scroll case strapped to the dove's leg. He quickly removed it and shook out the bit of parchment. It was a note from Tzigone, asking him to come at once to Keturah's tower.

  He hurried from the room, oblivious to the bird's aggrieved coos-such messengers were trained to wait for a reply. The green marble tower was not far from the palace, and the streets were still quiet under the fading night sky. Matteo sprinted down the street, intent on his goal. After the attack on Basel's tower, he suspected the worse.

  He ran past a stand of flowering xenia bushes and didn't see the out-thrust foot until it was too late. He deftly turned the trip into a roll and came up in a crouch, daggers out.

  Branches parted, and Tzigone's small face peered out at him. She gestured for him to join her. After a moment's hesitation, he edged into the small hollow.

  "Procopio Septus is in the tower," she said.

  Matteo's brows rose. "You're certain?"

  "He just walked in." She shook her head in self-reproach. "I haven't had time to change the wards since I took over the tower."

  He caught the implication at once. "Procopio knows Dhamari's wards! How could this be? A diviner might be able to see through some of them but certainly not all."

  "I imagine Dhamari handed him the counterspells," she said grimly. "They're best of friends these days."

  The jordain huffed. "You didn't see fit to mention this?"

  "Do you want to hear what I have to say, or would you rather fuss?" she said sharply.

  He held up both hands in a gesture of peace. "We'll come back to Procopio later."

  "We always seem to," she agreed. "Anyway, last night Dhamari came to Basel's tower after you all left. He was very surprised to find anyone still alive. My guess is he knew the attack was coming."

  Matteo looked troubled. "If he did, most likely Procopio knew as well. Proving that, however, will be difficult. Diviners are notoriously hard to read through magical inquiry."

  "Maybe this will help." Tzigone handed him a small packet. "I got this from Sinestra Belajoon's room. She found it hidden in Procopio's villa."

  "Oh?" he said cautiously.

  Tzigone shrugged. "Sinestra had some notion about learning thieving skills. You might say she was my apprentice."

  "Sweet Mystra," he groaned. "Twice-stolen proof is not much better than none at all."

  "That depends on the proof. This is mummy powder."

  Stunned enlightenment crossed Matteo's face. "Only the Mulhorandi embalm their dead. That suggests Procopio was in collusion with the invaders! On the other hand, perhaps Procopio got this powder from a northern grave robber. It was once used as a base for paint-"

  "Too late," she broke in. "Andris already told that tale, and once was plenty. And really, do you see Procopio as a would-be artist?"

  He conceded this point with a nod.

  "Here he comes," announced Tzigone. "This should be fun."

  Before Matteo could respond, Tzigone wriggled out of the bushes and headed for the tower. With a groan, he followed.

  They met the wizard at the gate, his arms full of spell-books. He stopped short, and his expression was cautious but not alarmed.

  "Shame about the invisibility spell," Tzigone said casually. "The damn things just never seem to hold up, do they?" Her gaze skimmed the wizard, and she lifted one eyebrow in a politely inquiring expression. "Out for a quiet stroll? A mug of breakfast ale and a little loot and pillage?"

  Procopio's face flushed and then hardened. "I am responsible for Halruaan justice in this city, and these items will be needed for the queen's trial. I'm sure Dhamari Exchelsor would have wished it so."

  "You're certainly in a position to know that," she shot back. "This was Keturah's tower before Dhamari stole her life. It's mine now, and everything in it. Don't think about poking around in Basel's tower, either."

  "Two towers. Aren't you the ambitious one?"

  "I have two parents."

  "Both of them conveniently dead. In fact, many wizards have died of late." Procopio's black eyes narrowed. "Amazing, that their killers are so hard to trace. It’s almost as if the murderer was magically shielded from inquiry."

  Matteo stepped between them, intercepting the wizard's challenging glare. "I don't like your implication."

  "I don't give an Azuthan damn what you like or dislike," the wizard retorted. "You're a fool, jordain, if you can't see beyond that pretty face to what lies within. Legend-legends in these very books-claim that dark elves slipped through the veil into Unseelie realms and came back as drow. What sort of monster did she become in the Unseelie Realm?"

  Tzigone said quietly, "People become what they truly are."

  "What, in your particular case, might that be?" sneered Procopio.

  Her chin came up. "There's one way to find out, wizard. Meet me on the dueling field today at twilight."

  Chapter Nineteen

  For a long moment Tzigone's challenge hung heavy in the astonished silence. Then Procopio let out a startled laugh, which quickly settled into an arrogant smirk.

  "This will be legal in every particular, so none can say I did murder. You, jordain, will bear witness the challenge was hers."

  He started through the gate, chuckling. Matteo quickly mo
ved into his path. "The books," he said simply.

  Their eyes met in silent, furious struggle. Finally Procopio muttered an oath and let the priceless, ancient volumes tumble to the garden path. He stalked out without a backward glance.

  Matteo turned to Tzigone, who stood regarding the books. "Right there is all the justification I'd ever need to squash him like a toad," she muttered.

  "Tzigone, what in the name of every god were you thinking? Procopio Septus is one of the most powerful wizards in Halarahh!"

  "I know." She glanced up. "Tell me what to do next"

  He folded his arms and scowled at her. "Move to Cormyr?"

  "You know what I mean. There's got to be a stack of customs and protocols for this sort of thing."

  "'This sort of thing' hasn't been done for many years," he retorted. "But yes, there are many defining rules. A challenge cannot be issued by a powerful wizard against one of considerably lesser rank. The spell battle challenge must take place on the old dueling field outside the city walls. I believe it's been used in recent years as pasturage for a herd of crimson zebras-racing stock, mostly."

  "So I’ll have to watch my step, in more ways than one," she said. "What else?"

  "The Council of Elders must bear witness to the competition. Given Procopio's status, Zalathorm and Beatrix should be there as well." He broke off and rubbed both hands over his face. "Tzigone, what will this serve?"

  She stood for a long moment, collecting her thoughts. "I can't be tested through magic. Not even Zalathorm will be able to take my word against Procopio. But if old Snow Hawk had anything to do with Kiva, if he had any part in Basel's death, he's going to die. It’s that simple."

  He shook his head. "No, it isn't. No one's going to die, because you're going to demand a mage duel."

  "What fun is that?"

  "I'm serious, Tzigone! The path that begins with vengeance leads to grief!"

  "I'm not interested in vengeance," she said softly, "but destiny."

  Matteo fell back, startled at hearing so grim a concept fall from her lips.

  "Your friend Andris would understand." Tzigone raised a hand to cut off the jordain's argument. "Hear me out. Kiva's plans focused upon Keturah in some way I don't fully understand. When my mother's magic started to falter, Kiva passed my mother's task on to me."

  "Even if that is so, why challenge Procopio?"

  "Because of Kiva," she persisted. "She wanted this-wizard fighting wizard. Men like Procopio and Dhamari are feeding it. If they think they're going to get something out of it, they haven't been paying attention. Kiva might be crazy, but she's smart. She planned one diversion after another, whittling away at Halruaa's wizards, diverting attention, dividing our strength. The Mulhorandi invasion caught us on the collective privy with our britches around our ankles."

  A faint smile flickered on Matteo's face, but his eyes remained somber. "Thanks be to Mystra for that last image! For a moment I thought myself listening to a somber Halruaan princess."

  She bristled like a cornered hedgehog. "You think I'm challenging Procopio to prove something about myself?"

  "Not at all. But I wonder if perhaps your challenge came from a sense of noblesse oblige. You are more Zalathorm's daughter than you realize."

  Her eyes narrowed. "You weren't listening the other day. Basel Indoulur was my father, and he didn't trust Procopio any farther than he could spit rocks. Procopio wouldn't face Basel, and maybe that's another reason why this task falls to me. Enough talk," she said abruptly. "I'd appreciate it if you'd handle the details. I need to prepare for tonight."

  Matteo opened his mouth to protest, then shut it with a click. Tzigone's argument had the desired effect-pointing out that any more time wasted detracted from her chances. He bowed slightly, keeping his eyes on hers-the formal salute of a jordain to a wizard of great power and rank.

  With a jolt of unpleasant surprise, Tzigone realize that if she passed this test, that was precisely how she would be regarded.

  "As you say, lady, it will be done," he said softly, without a hint of friendly mockery in his manner. "May Mystra guide and strengthen you."

  Tzigone watched him go, one hand clasped over her lips as if to hold back a laugh, or perhaps a sob. At the moment, she wasn't sure which way to go. Matteo's formal farewell might sound absurd, but this was what lay ahead for them.

  She shrugged. "I could always throw the mage duel and kill Snow Hawk later."

  This excellent compromise, spoken only half in jest, raised her spirits considerably. She gathered up her mother's books and headed for the tower to prepare for the challenge ahead.

  That night, as sunset color faded from the sky and the soft purple haze of twilight spread over the land, a great throng gathered at the western end of the dueling field. Artisans and minor wizards had been busy throughout the day. A makeshift wooden arena soared high over the field, and at the edge of the field a dais held chairs for the Elders and thrones for the wizard-king and his consort.

  Beatrix was there, dressed carefully and elaborately in her usual silver and white. The only concessions to her coming trial were the pair of wizards who flanked her and the armed guards who surrounded three sides of the dais.

  Tzigone came onto the field first. On Matteo's advice, she came out in a simple tunic rather than her apprentice robes. She repeated the challenge and listened while a herald read the lengthy rules of engagement.

  Excitement simmered through the crowd as Procopio walked onto the field. He, too, was simply dressed, perhaps to downplay the vast difference between his rank and his challenger's. There would be little honor in besting a mere girl. When he executed the proper bows, he made a point of acknowledging Tzigone's heroics in the recent battles and in Akhlaur's Swamp.

  The combatants moved to the center of the field and faced each other, staring intently into each other's eyes as they matched minds. Procopio's white brows rose when he perceived the size of arena Tzigone had in mind-the maximum allowed for their combined rank and status. A sly look entered his eyes as he perceived her likely strategy, and he conceded with a nod.

  They turned, and each paced off half the length of the arena. That done, they again faced each other. A shimmering wall rose from the field, forming an enormous cube between them. That accomplished, the combatants moved aside to prepare defensive spells.

  Matteo came to her side. "Any last words of advice?" she said lightly.

  His brow furrowed in a conflicted frown. "Procopio Septus was my patron. I can't divulge any of his secrets, but I can remind you of things that are obvious to all. He is proud, he is arrogant, and he is short."

  She studied him for a moment, then grinned in understanding. "I can work with that."

  The crumhorn sounded the beginning of the challenge. Tzigone and Procopio took their places at the edge of the magical arena. When the final note sounded, they stepped in at the same instant.

  At once Tzigone began to sing. Procopio waited confidently, arms folded and feet planted wide, his black eyes scanning the heights of the arena for the appearance of some conjured beast.

  A small behir with scales of pale blue appeared on the dueling field, an unimposing creature that would have little effect on the wizard-except for its strategic position. The behir materialized between Procopio's feet.

  The creature shook itself briefly, assessed its situation, and then attacked. Its small, slender head lunged straight up, and crystalline fangs sought a convenient target. A small sizzle of lightning-like energy jolted into its victim.

  The wizard let out a roar of pain and fury. He kicked at the behir, which promptly let go. The little creature scuttled off, its six pairs of legs churning.

  Tzigone dispelled it with a flick of her hand. "Proud, arrogant, and short," she said casually, "and maybe a little shorter than he was a few minutes ago."

  The wizard snarled and called her several foul names. Tzigone shrugged. "Just be glad I insisted on a mage duel. Imagine if the behir hadn't been enspelled to do only sub
dual damage." She sent him an innocent smile. "Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if you were subdued for a very long time...."

  Procopio furiously conjured and hurled a fireball. His opponent clucked and responded with a scatterspell. The brilliant missiles met and exploded into thousands of small pieces, which drifted down in a bright, harmless shower, winking out to ash before reaching the combatants.

  "Not much imagination there," she said, "but you are devastatingly handsome when you're angry. It's a shame that you're, well, subdued."

  Wrath flared in his black eyes, then quickly banked. "This travesty will be over soon enough. You'll face me again, witch, without these walls and rules."

  "That's what I'm counting on," she said, her lips smiling but her eyes utterly cold. "Back to the show. My turn."

  She began to chant. A large, dusky creature took form in the center of the arena. The conjured wyvern's sinuous, barbed tail lashed angrily. It leaped into the air and described a tight spiral as it climbed to the top of the shimmering cube.

  Procopio quickly countered, forming the spell for the storm elemental he had used to such acclaim during the Mulhorandi invasion. The arena shivered as wind lashed through it. The resulting clouds, tinged with color by the setting sun, flowed together, melding and shifting into the form of a giant wizard. The cloud form inhaled deeply and sent a gust of wind at the diving wyvern.

  The gale struck outstretched wings curved taut in a hawklike stoop. The creature let out a startled shriek and went into a spin. It plummeted toward the ground, its batlike wings whipping so furiously that it seemed they would tear loose. The wyvern pulled out of the spin at the last possible moment and spread its wings wide, swooping so near the ground that the grasses bent and whispered as it passed over. The wyvern's deadly tail raked a long furrow in the ground.

  Procopio's storm elemental reached out with a giant, translucent sword and sliced at the tail. It fell to the ground, twitching and writhing like a gigantic worm. The wyvern screamed. Dark blood boiled from the stump, and the great creature's wings slowed.

  Tzigone made a deft gesture that released the conjured wyvern. It disappeared in a puff of mist. The poison-tipped tail made a few more blind attempts to find and stab the wizard, then it, too, melted away.