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Authors: Elaine Cunningham
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arrogance.”
The wizard’s mood darkened still more. “Forgive me, child, for subjecting you to such indignity. I never suspected that Procopio would go so far. I should have, knowing him as I do.”
Tzigone heaved a sigh of profound relief and enfolded Basel in a quick hug. She reached for a length of gleaming silver-a long slim knife, perfectly balanced for fighting or throwing. “I knew I should have followed that punch with a knee to the groin.”
“I’m just as glad you didn’t,” Basel told her, his black eyes twinkling with unholy glee as he counted out the needed coins. “Had you done so, I would have felt compelled to sign Avariel over to you.”
Chapter Five
Matteo’s pursuit of Andris took much longer than he had anticipated. His eager stallion ran hard the first day, and Matteo suspected that Cyric would have run through the night had not Matteo called a halt. On the second day, heavy rains slowed his progress and blurred the trail. Matteo was a strong tracker, but had he not known Andris so well, he would have missed the trail entirely. It was not the trail sign, but the small tricks and diversions that the jordain left to cover his path that Matteo found and read.
By the third day, he could no longer doubt Andris’s destination. The jordain was bound for the Temple of Azuth, as he had been instructed. That made no sense to Matteo. If Andris intended to submit himself to the inquisitors, why slip away without a word?
The sun’s last long, golden rays gilded the high-domed Azuthan cathedral as Cyric thundered up to the temple gate. Matteo gave his name and purpose to the gatekeeper and waited while the man went to fetch a priest.
An elderly man came to the gate, wearing the gray vestments of Azuth. Matteo’s eye dropped to the holy symbol over his heart: a man’s hand, index finger pointed upward, surrounded by flame. The flames that surrounded the needlework hand were not fashioned from silken threads but from magic flumes that leaped and danced, giving off a deep red light. The flame’s color denoted rank. Matteo’s host was a high priest. Given Matteo’s part in returning the traitorous Kiva, he supposed it fitting that so august a person should come to greet him.
The priest made short work of the usual courtesies, not even offering his name. He ushered Matteo into a private study and closed the door firmly. Matteo waited with growing puzzlement as the priest fell into prayer, chanting Azuth-given spells to ward the room from magical intrusion.
At last Matteo could not contain his curiosity. “You fear that some wizard might intrude into this sacred place? That is forbidden!”
“Forbidden or not, it has been known to happen.” The priest sank into a chair and waved Matteo toward another, “The man you seek, the jordain Andris. He did not present himself to the temple.”
“He assured me he would come here.”
“You mentioned that to the gatekeeper. You also said that Andris promised he would not leave the Jordaini College until the following morning,” the priest pointed out.
Matteo had no answer for this. “I must admit that my friend’s actions are a complete mystery to me. I would be grateful for whatever enlightenment you could offer.”
The priest hesitated for a long moment. “You must treat what I am about to tell you with the same discretion a jordain grants his patron.”
Matteo nodded cautious agreement “Insofar as I may, without betraying the interests of my patron the queen, or the service of truth.”
“That will have to do.” The priest sighed heavily. “Andris did not present himself at our gates, that much is true, but he was here. It is my opinion that he was looking for Kiva.”
This was the strangest news Matteo had learned yet “Did he find her?”
“When you learn the answer to that question, let me know. Me, and no other.”
As the man’s meaning became clear, Matteo slumped back into his chair. “Kiva has escaped? But how?”
The
The wizard’s mood darkened still more. “Forgive me, child, for subjecting you to such indignity. I never suspected that Procopio would go so far. I should have, knowing him as I do.”
Tzigone heaved a sigh of profound relief and enfolded Basel in a quick hug. She reached for a length of gleaming silver-a long slim knife, perfectly balanced for fighting or throwing. “I knew I should have followed that punch with a knee to the groin.”
“I’m just as glad you didn’t,” Basel told her, his black eyes twinkling with unholy glee as he counted out the needed coins. “Had you done so, I would have felt compelled to sign Avariel over to you.”
Chapter Five
Matteo’s pursuit of Andris took much longer than he had anticipated. His eager stallion ran hard the first day, and Matteo suspected that Cyric would have run through the night had not Matteo called a halt. On the second day, heavy rains slowed his progress and blurred the trail. Matteo was a strong tracker, but had he not known Andris so well, he would have missed the trail entirely. It was not the trail sign, but the small tricks and diversions that the jordain left to cover his path that Matteo found and read.
By the third day, he could no longer doubt Andris’s destination. The jordain was bound for the Temple of Azuth, as he had been instructed. That made no sense to Matteo. If Andris intended to submit himself to the inquisitors, why slip away without a word?
The sun’s last long, golden rays gilded the high-domed Azuthan cathedral as Cyric thundered up to the temple gate. Matteo gave his name and purpose to the gatekeeper and waited while the man went to fetch a priest.
An elderly man came to the gate, wearing the gray vestments of Azuth. Matteo’s eye dropped to the holy symbol over his heart: a man’s hand, index finger pointed upward, surrounded by flame. The flames that surrounded the needlework hand were not fashioned from silken threads but from magic flumes that leaped and danced, giving off a deep red light. The flame’s color denoted rank. Matteo’s host was a high priest. Given Matteo’s part in returning the traitorous Kiva, he supposed it fitting that so august a person should come to greet him.
The priest made short work of the usual courtesies, not even offering his name. He ushered Matteo into a private study and closed the door firmly. Matteo waited with growing puzzlement as the priest fell into prayer, chanting Azuth-given spells to ward the room from magical intrusion.
At last Matteo could not contain his curiosity. “You fear that some wizard might intrude into this sacred place? That is forbidden!”
“Forbidden or not, it has been known to happen.” The priest sank into a chair and waved Matteo toward another, “The man you seek, the jordain Andris. He did not present himself to the temple.”
“He assured me he would come here.”
“You mentioned that to the gatekeeper. You also said that Andris promised he would not leave the Jordaini College until the following morning,” the priest pointed out.
Matteo had no answer for this. “I must admit that my friend’s actions are a complete mystery to me. I would be grateful for whatever enlightenment you could offer.”
The priest hesitated for a long moment. “You must treat what I am about to tell you with the same discretion a jordain grants his patron.”
Matteo nodded cautious agreement “Insofar as I may, without betraying the interests of my patron the queen, or the service of truth.”
“That will have to do.” The priest sighed heavily. “Andris did not present himself at our gates, that much is true, but he was here. It is my opinion that he was looking for Kiva.”
This was the strangest news Matteo had learned yet “Did he find her?”
“When you learn the answer to that question, let me know. Me, and no other.”
As the man’s meaning became clear, Matteo slumped back into his chair. “Kiva has escaped? But how?”
The
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