The Floodgate

The blade slipped through leather and past bone. Matteo leaned hard on the blade, scraping between the twin bones of the wizard's lower leg and reaching for the tendon behind. With a quick wrench, he severed the cord.

Ignoring the bees that still swarmed and stung, Matteo rolled to his feet and charged the men holding Tzigone's hands. One of them trusted the wizard's magic to hold firm, but the other released the girl and dragged a knife from his belt.

Matteo's bloodied dagger struck the man's weapon hand before the blade could clear its sheath. The jolt of steel against stoneskin vibrated through his arm. He struck again and again. Through it all, the bees followed his movements like a treacherous shadow.

The thug defended himself as best he could and managed to parry some of Matteo's strokes, but with each hit Matteo landed, the efficacy of the stoneskin spell faded away. Within moments the jordain's dagger struck normal flesh-then, bone.

Matteo's opponent stumbled back, shrieking in shock and pain as he stared at the gash that opened his arm and at the white bone beneath.

The jordain spun and drove his one foot into the man's gut. Reversing direction with stu

Matteo spun toward Tzigone, who was down to one captor. She was standing now, her hands firmly pinioned behind her back. The big, bearded man who'd held her feet slumped against the wagon, spitting teeth into his cupped palm. Blood poured from a garishly broken nose. One of his eyes was already swelling shut, and the other was starting to lose focus. Tzigone continued to writhe and kick and stomp, wearing down the stoneskin spell on her final opponent with a barrage of blows and kicks. For a moment Matteo wondered if she had really needed his help at all.

Suddenly Tzigone slumped as if in defeat. Matteo was not fooled, but the thug who held Tzigone let out a relieved sigh. The sound ended in a gasp, and the man's eyes opened wide and glazed with pain.

Apparently Tzigone had managed to seize something her captor held in great personal regard. She twisted free. Ripping off her gag, she kicked the man in the already offended area, then kicked him once more after he fell. She swatted at a circling bee and began the gestures of a spell.

Fragrant smoke rose from the hard-packed ground, a scent reminiscent of poppies and summer sun. The bees swarming Matteo stopped their stinging attack. Their flight slowed, and they drifted off to settle on the wooden beams.

Free of that hindrance, Matteo looked around for the final thug-the driver, who had not yet entered the battle. The back door flew open, and the man came on in a rush, followed closely by the reinforcements he'd apparently gone to summon. As the men rushed Matteo, they snatched up ice hooks long as swords, with wicked curved tips.

Tzigone began another spell-a simple cantrip to heat metal. Yet the men's ice picks showed no red glow. Puzzled, Matteo followed Tzigone's gaze toward the ceiling. There, suspended from ropes as thick as his arm, was an enormous set of iron tongs that lifted ice to the loft above. The metal tongs were red as a sunrise, and mist rose from the block of ice in their grip.

Ice shrieked against metal as the massive chunk slipped loose. Matteo grabbed for Tzigone, but she was quicker than he and was already ru

The impact was thunderous, and the shattering ice splintered off again and again like a brittle echo. Shards rained over the two friends, but no ice penetrated the thick, oiled cloth.

When all was still, Matteo and Tzigone crawled out from under the tarp and somberly regarded the scene around them. The icehouse resembled a battlefield. The wagon lay on its side, one wheel shattered and the other three spi

Tzigone stared at the carnage, her face pale and still.

Matteo slipped a steadying arm around her shoulders. "This must be reported to the officials."

She started to protest, then sighed. "I never thought the day would come when I went looking for the law instead of the other way around."

"I will see to it," he promised.

Tzigone's first response was a quick, grateful smile, quickly chased by a frown as her nimble mind danced ahead. "Someone might have seen them grab me. You'll have to tell the militia something."

"These thugs seized a young woman. I followed and fought them. She escaped."

She snorted. "Is that the best you can do? It's not very interesting."

"One of the benefits of telling simple truth," he said dryly, "is that you don't have to remember interesting details. That said, I've learned one very interesting detail this night: I'm making more progress than I thought."

Tzigone looked at him incredulously, then her eyes cleared and she nodded. "Someone doesn't like the questions you're asking, which means that you're probably doing something right."

He walked with her toward the back door. "The next question will be who owns this building. A working icehouse does not lie empty and idle during the afternoon. This attack might not have been instigated by the owner, but he or she would know who had the authority to send the workers away."

"Why don't we just get someone to ask him?" She pointed to one of the dead men.

Matteo's first instinct was to protest. Powerful clerical magic was required to speak with the dead. The jordaini were not to have any magic worked on their behalf.

He never got the chance to remind her of this. Before he could speak, the corpses and the injured changed to rapidly fading mist. In an instant, he and Tzigone were alone in the icehouse.

She let out a long, slow whistle. "You've been asking the right questions, all right. I don't think we're going to like the people who've got the answers."

"All the more reason for you to go. I will pursue this matter and tell you all I learn when next we meet."

She nodded and disappeared-not out the door but up a wall. Climbing nimbly on crossbars and ropes, she melted into the shadows that lurked about the high ceiling.

Matteo went into the street to alert the city militia. He was spared the trouble, for the thunderous crash of falling ice had drawn the notice of a nearby fish market. The vendor stood nearby with a long, curving horn held to his lips, winding a raucous but effective alarm. A small crowd of fisherfolk had already gathered around the building. They parted to allow the city militia to pass through.

Matteo quickly explained what had happened, not identifying Tzigone by name but saying only the abducted girl had escaped. The city guards lifted their eyebrows and exchanged incredulous glances when Matteo told them that their assailants had also disappeared. None of them dared to challenge the veracity of the queen's jordain, but Matteo understood the path their thoughts must be taking. Why would several men flee from a single jordain? If Matteo defined the word «disappeared» in its literal and magical sense, the guards would accept his story with a nod. After all, this was Halruaa, and strange magical occurrences were the norm.

Strange magical occurrences were also closely examined. And as Tzigone had pointed out, it was unlikely that the answers would be reassuring.