The Magehound
Page 31
When the men had left to send word that Zephyr was to die at once, Kiva fell, exhausted, against her pillows. She didn’t regret this betrayal, for it was a necessary thing. Zephyr suspected her. She’d sensed that for some time. When he heard she had fought to release the laraken upon Halruaa’s wizards, he wouldn’t rest until he ferreted out the rest of her plans.
She reached for the cup of broth the servant left and forced herself to take sips of it. When some of her strength returned, she slipped out of bed and padded over to the window.
They hadn’t thought to bar it, for without her wizard’s magic, she was deemed helpless. But trees grew close to the windows, and Kiva had been raised in the jungles many, many years ago.
Moving carefully, struggling against the weakness in her limbs and the lightness in her head, she eased herself into the branches. Her strength returned as she moved, as if it flowed from the living tree into her body. For she was an elf, and as long as she lived, the magic of the forest was hers to call.
And so she escaped, fleeing into the trees as her ancestors had done, as she herself had done so many years ago, when the accursed wizard Akhlaur had stripped her people of their lives and their magic.
Matteo and Tzigone strolled down the promenade, enjoying the fine summer twilight and watching as magical lights winked on in the city below. Much had happened since the battle in Akhlaur’s swamp. After taking Kiva to the Temple of Azuth, they had gone to House Jordain and presented themselves at the Disputation Table. Dimidis had at first been reluctant to accept Matteo’s story, but his tale was bolstered by the presence of the eleven surviving men, most of them jordaini. And there was no disputing that Andris, who had “died” before their very eyes, lived on, albeit in a strangely altered form. Men who had been tested and condemned by Kiva submitted to another magehound’s tests and were found utterly free of magic’s taint.
Wizards had already begun to venture into the Swamp of Akhlaur, and they returned with tales that supported Matteo’s claims. The laraken was gone, and the encroachment of the swamp seemed to be halted. A great service had been done to Halruaa and her wizards.
All of the survivors had been pardoned from any offenses and heaped with honors. The jordaini immediately went into service to some of Halruaa’s greatest wizards. Tzigone, however, remained strangely secretive about her plans. But Matteo noted the abstracted expression on her face and suspected that she was ready to speak at last
“I’ll be leaving Halarahh soon,” she said abruptly.
Matteo sent her a quizzical look. “The road beckons? You have not yet learned of your mother’s fate. I suppose you plan to seek her.”
“In time.” Tzigone hesitated and gave him a sheepish, sidelong glance. “Actually, I thought maybe I should learn a few things first Get some weapons before going into battle, so to speak. I took an apprenticeship with Basel Indoulur.”
Matteo burst out laughing, drawing a glare from the girl. “Repeat after me: I am no wizard. Better say it as often as possible while you still can.”
“Very amusing,” she grumbled. “I’ve got all this magic, whether I like it or not. Maybe once I find what my true gifts are, I’ll be able to trace my parents. Looking now is seeking a coin in a dragon’s hoard. But what about you? Will you continue in the queen’s service?”
He gave his answer careful thought. “All my life, I was raised to serve a wizard patron. But I have vowed to serve truth as my own man, and will do so regardless of my circumstances. From this day, my only master is my own conscience.”
“The queen might not like that.”
“The queen might be part of the problem,” Matteo said quietly.
Tzigone considered this. “So you’re going to stay in Halarahh and seek truth amid those who shape it to their will.” She gave him a wry smile. “We’re changing places, you know.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I’m going legitimate, albeit reluctantly. You’re becoming a rogue. Of the two of us, you seem happier with the path ahead.”
“Happy?” Matteo rejected that assessment with a shake of his head. “I did not plan a life of subterfuge and secrecy. It seems a strange way to go about the service of truth. But not all truths need to be spoken aloud.”
Tzigone winked. “And some of them can stand a bit of color and flash. Call me if you need lessons in truth improvement.”
She swept both arms up with a cat-quick gesture. Where she had stood was a slim flame, blazing with rainbow hues. It winked out as quickly as it came, and Tzigone was gone. With color and flash, no less.
Matteo smiled wryly and shook his head. Basel Indoulur had chosen well. Tzigone had enormous talent, and she was certain to become Basel’s star apprentice. In no time at all, she would be accounted a wizard.
His smile faded abruptly. Now that Tzigone was on the road to becoming a wizard, their odd friendship was at an end. The only way he would have dealings with her was as an enemy, or …
“A patron,” he said with a groan.
Before he could ponder that disturbing thought, the palace bells began to peal, summoning the servants in before the grounds were sealed for the night. He went directly to the queen’s chambers to see if his services would be required that evening. He entered quietly, noting that the queen was alone in her workshop. An exquisite music box sat on the table beside her, and a clockwork cat purred in her lap. The box was fashioned to resemble a gilded cage, and in it a clockwork bird covered with tiny iridescent metal feathers swung on a tiny swing.
The queen idly stroked the cat, her eyes distant as she started to sing. Her voice was faint at first, as flat and toneless as her speaking voice. But then it grew in strength, becoming rich and full. The wordless tune portrayed sadness and loss more poignantly than the funeral keen of a master bard.
Matteo stopped dead. He had heard that voice before. There was no mistaking the dark alto tone and the magic that lurked behind every note. It was the voice Tzigone had used to call the laraken. For a moment the battle flooded back to him in all its exhilaration and horror and loss.
Then the memory faded, and his moment of certainty fled with it like light from a windblown candle. Should he speak to Tzigone of this? Or was this one of those truths that should remain unspoken?
For that matter, was it truth at all?
Queen Beatrix fell silent behind the blank, inhuman mask that her face had become. She put aside the cat and took up the music box, staring at the marvel of gears and gems in her hands. Tiny bells began to chime as the clockwork bird took up the heartbreaking tune.
About the Author
Since her first novel, Elfshadow, was published in 1991 Elaine Cunningham has been traveling the backroads and byways of Faerûn seeking out adventures to chronicle. The results have been the acclaimed Songs and Swords and Starlight and Shadows series of novels—winning her a devoted following among FORGOTTEN REALMS fans—and a number of short stories, as well as Evermeet: Island of Elves. Still, at the end of the day she’s happy to return to her New England home, which she shares with her husband, her two sons, various computers, and lots and lots of books.
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