The Floodgate

The jordain glanced up when Matteo approached. His face lit up. "The queen has consented?"

"I have not yet had opportunity to ask her," Matteo said slowly. "Queen Beatrix has not granted me an audience for several days now, but it will be no problem to convince her that she needs your services. For the moment, though, you do not look too unhappy in Lord Procopio's service."

Iago glanced up and down the row of stalls, checking for listening ears. "You were right about Procopio's ambitions. You know, of course, that he intends to be king after Zalathorm."

"Procopio always spoke freely before his counselors," Matteo replied carefully. "The king has not named a successor. This inspires ambition. But ambition can be either the father of achievement, or the mother of treachery. Has Procopio done anything to cross that line?"

"Nothing specific," Iago said slowly, "but he seems unduly interested in reports of troubles from the west and the north. He is the mayor of the king's city. These things lie beyond his authority."

"They also lie beyond your authority and mine," Matteo reminded him. "Yet you ca

Iago acknowledged this with a shrug. "I bear many scars from the time I spent in Kiva's service. Not the least of these is discontent. All our lives we jordaini train for battle, only to watch and advise. It is difficult to stand idly by, yes?"

He waited for Matteo to speak his mind. For many moments the only sounds were the swish of the curry brush and the contented melody hummed by the pegasus foal.

"During our journey to Halarahh, you reminded me that I had missed the purification ritual. How did you know this?"

The brush stilled, prompting the foal to break off her song and stamp her tiny feet imperiously. Iago took up the rhythm again. "I spoke with the guard who admitted you the following day."

Matteo conjured a mental image of the man's face-tan as saddle leather, deeply seamed by lines and framed by thin wisps of graying hair. Though the man had been with the Jordaini College as long as Matteo could remember, he did not recall seeing him during his last visit. "That would be Jinkor. He is well?"

"He is dead," the jordain said bitterly. "The man who killed him stands before you."

Matteo slowly sat down on a bale of meadow grass. "How did this happen?"

"He was fond of haerlu wine. Did you know that?"

"No."

"During my years at the college, I would occasionally bring him a bottle from the storehouse." Iago shrugged "He would never take more than a single goblet at a time. So I was surprised when he uncorked the bottle and drank as if he intended to see the bottom before he came up for air. I assumed he had troubles to drown and I sat with him in case he needed a friendly ear."

"That was good of you."

"Good intentions," Iago said with dismissive scorn. "Jinkor spoke, all right. When his mind held more wine than good sense, he forgot the pill that Kiva made him swallow."

Matteo jolted. "Kiva?"

"Oh, yes. It seems she has been watching the jordaini order for years. She needed sources of information and found one in Jinkor, who, as it turns out, has more than one expensive habit. Kiva ensured his silence."

Matteo had heard that wizards sometimes gave their servants potions that physically bound them to secrecy, but this method was far too extreme for the matter at hand. "Why would Kiva care about jordaini ritual?"

Iago glanced at Matteo. "You were getting in Kiva's way. She wanted to do away with you."

"She had ample opportunities! Why this?"

"Jinkor asked the same question. Kiva told him that killing you would set off an alarm. She could not destroy you outright, so she arranged for you to destroy yourself."

Matteo considered his previous conversation with Iago. "So this is why you asked me if there was more than friendship between Tzigone and me."

"Kiva knew how much you risked for that girl. She assumed that a human male could have only one interest in a female. Even some of her soldiers behaved in a ma

Matteo nodded. Elves were rare in Halruaa, where being non-human was virtually synonymous with being sub-human. A few people of mixed race became wizards, and a few elfblooded wizards had risen to the Council of Elders. The most common profession for half-elf women, however, was that of courtesan. If the soldiers serving Kiva approached her in this ma

"Why couldn't Kiva kill me outright? What 'alarm' would this set off?"

Iago set to work with a hoof pick. "What do you know of the Cabal?"

Matteo let out a bark of startled laughter. "Strange context Iago. Are you suggesting that a secret conspiracy has been formed to ensure my safety?"

The small jordain's face closed. Matteo instantly regretted his sarcasm. "Your pardon, Iago. If there is something I should know, please tell me."

The jordain shrugged. "It's not uncommon for a jordaini student to pursue a personal obsession. With Andris, it was the Kilmaruu Paradox. Mine was the legend of the Cabal. Some of the stories seemed to sing in tune with what Jinkor implied, that's all. It is nothing." His tone left no doubt that the matter was closed.

"Kiva's plan lacks logic," Matteo said, returning to the previous matter. "Had I followed the path she anticipated, it would have been obvious that I had not undergone the ritual. The college records would confirm this. I would not be held blameless, but since I did not know the nature of this rite until today, neither would my actions be deliberate treason."

"The college records would not confirm it," Iago countered. "Nor would the records support your i

Matteo rose slowly to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. It was bad enough that a jordain should submit to such a thing! The peasant who'd taken his place had no part in Halruaa's laws of magic and power! "Do you know what became of this man?"

"No, but if you value his life, you should not seek him out," Iago pointed out. "On the other hand, if you value yours, perhaps you should. There would be an inquiry if he died while answering questions, and perhaps the spell could be traced back to the spellcaster."

"Are you suggesting that some might suspect me of arranging this travesty?"

"You were released from prison with ample time to ride back to the college, yet you came a day late. Another man rides in on your horse just in time. At whom, logically, will the fingers point?"

"Kiva, of course."

"Therein lies the problem," Iago said grimly. "Kiva is nowhere to be found. If a magehound examined you, he might find you i

"That's absurd!"

"Is it? Now that you know the nature of the purification ritual, would you return to the Jordaini College and willingly submit to it?"

“Would you?" Matteo countered.

Iago smiled thinly. "There you have it. A magehound's magic would discover your rejection of jordaini rule. Guilt or i