The Floodgate

The priest's complacent smile vanished at this insult. "Now, see here-"

"Bah!" Procopio threw up his hands in disgust. "How could anyone, even a cleric, possibly mishandle anything so badly?"

"If you're speaking of Kiva, there is no need for concern. I ensured that there would be no further queries into her whereabouts," Ymani said stiffly.

"To the contrary. You managed to make a mess so big that no one can help but step in it," Procopio retorted. "It was bad enough when Kiva was accounted a traitor. Now she is an excommunicate. Zephyr, a jordain in my employ, would have been similarly condemned by his association with Kiva. No Halruaan wizard can afford that taint to come so close. You might as well have included me in the general damnation!"

For a moment the priest looked as if he regretted this oversight. His fleshy lower lip thrust forward in a petulant scowl. "You wanted to stop the jordain Matteo from making inquiries. This should do it."

Procopio placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "You do not 'stop' a man like Matteo by putting roadblocks in his path. If anything, you've hardened his resolve."

"So what, in your inestimable wisdom, should we do?"

The wizard smiled unpleasantly. "Distract him, then discredit him. It has worked before, albeit briefly, and I daresay that this time it might take permanent hold."

Chapter Fifteen

By the time Matteo left the city palace, his many bee stings were begi

The shop was a wattle-and-daub building set in a neat garden full of herbs. Birds skittered about picking at the seeds some softhearted soul had strewn for them. A pert yellow songbird followed Matteo right up to the shop and perched on the sill of the open window, as if to listen in on the conversation.

The apothecary was a minor wizard, with plump cheeks and a near-toothless grin that made him look rather like a wizened, oversized infant. Matteo exchanged courtesies and explained what he needed.

The man scratched a list on a bit of parchment and went to the back room to fetch the supplies. Busy with his work, he did not notice the yellow bird fly in the window and settle on the rush-strewn floor.

Swift as thought, the bird transformed into its true shape: a female wizard with bold, black eyes, wearing a simple chemise and skirt of yellow linen. The bird-turned-woman picked up a crockery urn and brought it down hard on the back of the apothecary's head. He pitched forward onto the bench and slid to the floor. The woman gathered up the supplies and hurried to the front room.

"My father was called away," she told Matteo. "He bade me tend your hurts. Why, it looks as if you were rolling about in a thicket of briars!"

She continued her bright chatter as she led the way to a small room off the shop. Matteo, after an initial moment of surprise, followed her. At her bidding he sat down upon the edge of a narrow cot.

The girl sat beside him, salving the stings on his neck and arms with a deft, practiced touch. "Remove your tunic, and I'll tend to the rest of you," she suggested with a coy smile.

Matteo rose. "Thank you, but I don't think there are any more stings."

"So you say, but I'd like to see for myself."

"Nothing more is necessary. You are a credit to your father, and a fine healer."

Her smile broadened and became feline. "I have other talents."

"No doubt," he murmured, now thoroughly puzzled.

With an exasperated little sigh, the woman pushed her chemise aside to bare her shoulders and struck an unmistakably seductive pose. "Join me," she invited bluntly.

Matteo's cheeks burned with embarrassment. He felt a fool for not reading her meaning sooner.

This seemed to amuse her. "Why so amazed, jordain? I offer a hour's pleasure, no regrets or consequence."

Matteo quickly collected himself. "All actions have consequences, lady. This, perhaps more than most." The girl's puzzlement seemed genuine, so he explained. "The jordaini are forbidden to have families."

She sent him an indulgent smile. "I am not asking you to wed with me. A bit of frolic-what could come of that?"

Matteo studied the girl. She was young and by all appearances pampered and gently raised. Halruaan girls were often sheltered. Despite her bold ways, was it possible that she truly did not know?

"A child could come of it," he said gently.

Dumbfounded, she gazed at him for a long moment She shook her head and began to chuckle. "Now, that would be one of Mystra's better miracles! That 'purification' ritual of yours is one of the best ideas to come out of the Jordaini College. With magical bloodlines so important, no one dares risk a bastard." Her smile turned knowing, and she began to loosen the ties on her chemise. "Stallions might be swift, but geldings run best and longest. Why do you think the jordaini are so popular among the ladies of Halruaa?"

It was Matteo's turn to be stu

One part of his mind calmly acknowledged that the purification rite was a prudent precaution. He would not be surprised if unreliable or even dangerous gifts had crept back into the line through jordaini offspring. Precaution was the grandchild of disaster, and a measure so drastic would not be taken unless it was necessary.

Even as he acknowledged this, another part of him burned with white-hot anger. How could such a decision be taken from the young men and women who became jordaini? Did they not deserve to know, and chose?

He gave the girl a curt bow. "Thank you for your kind thoughts, but I must leave."

She shrugged and pulled her chemise back into place. "Your loss." With a grin, she preened a bit at her hair and then ran a hand down the length of her body. "If you doubt that, just ask any other jordain in the city about me."

Her boast troubled him greatly as he hurried toward Procopio Septus's villa. It was wrong to impose this rite upon unwitting young men, but that did not give them license to behave irresponsibly. As he had told the girl, actions had consequences. Even if a child could not result, a man and woman could not lie together and leave their shared bed unchanged. Families could be made in many ways, and no jordain could afford to put anything before his duty to Halruaa and her wizards.

Yet Matteo thought of his friend Themo. He always time to show the jordaini lads a new game or to practice weaponry with them. He was also known to speak wistfully of a certain barmaid in Khaerbaal-not like the lewd soldiers who lusted after women in general. Matteo could see Themo serving as a battle wizard's jordain, but also taking up the sword to fight once his advice was given. At battle's end, he might return to a merry wife and a family of boisterous children. Such a life would be a better match for Themo than his own shadow, but it would never be his. He would not know this until it was too late.

Why had Matteo been spared this ritual? Delayed in Khaerbaal by his dealings with Kiva, he'd arrived at the college a day late and was hurried away and out of sight. He was left ignorant of this omission, which was nearly as distressing as the rite itself.

The walls of Procopio's villa loomed before Matteo suddenly. He glanced at the sun. He was early-at this time of day, Procopio usually held council with other city Elders. He chatted briefly with the gatekeeper, then hurried to the long, low building that housed the wizard's steeds. There he found Iago grooming a pegasus foal, painstakingly smoothing the pure white coat.