The Magehound

At that moment something snapped within Matteo. Without thought of propriety or consequence, he leaped up from his chair and upended the table just as the wemic launched himself into another mighty leap.

Matteo's timing was perfect The wemic crashed headfirst into the thick, weathered boards and dropped like an arrow-shot bird. For good measure, Matteo hefted a chair and brought it down hard on the dazed wemic's head. The chair shattered and the creature went limp.

But Matteo's troubles were just begi

"You attacked a magehound's personal guardian," he said incredulously, then repeated the words with obvious enjoyment. He was muttering them still as he hurried away, no doubt to report this grave infraction of jordaini law to the nearest authority. Matteo hoped that such a person was not currently in the tavern, or sentence might be passed and carried out this very night

In moments the wizard hurried back, alone, looking more than a little disgruntled. The local militia had come and gone, dragging away many of the brawlers with them. No doubt the wizard had been unable to find an official representative of Khaerbaal's law and had returned to handle the matter himself.

A hunk of bread bounced off Matteo's head. He glanced in the direction from which it had come, a

"Psst! This way, and hurry!"

When Matteo hesitated, the boy rolled his eyes impatiently. "Your friend's out here. He needs you."

Matteo glanced to the place on the floor where he had left Themo "sleeping." Sure enough, the big jordain had slipped away, no doubt to pick a fight elsewhere. With a sigh, he quickly made his way to the back of the room and out into the street beyond.

He followed the lad to the end of the long dueling alley and then stopped. The corridor was empty but for him and the boy, as was the street beyond.

"Where's Themo?" he demanded.

"How should I know?" the urchin retorted. "Unless it's true what they say about jordaini, we'd better start ru

This was the second time someone had made that remark, and Matteo liked it even less on second hearing. He didn't have the leisure to inquire, however, for at that moment the wizard burst from the tavern, his face indignant and his open palm flaming with light.

"Damn," the boy muttered and dug one hand into the bag that hung at his belt.

Matteo drew his daggers and prepared to deflect the magical attack. As he expected, the sun arrow spell took deadly form and spun toward him. He formed the classic defense with a smooth, practiced movement.

But the boy was quicker still. His small hand flashed out, holding a shining bit of glass. Before Matteo could thrust the lad aside, the bolt struck the proffered target. It hit the small mirror squarely and bounced back at a declining angle toward the wizard.

There was a moment of stu

Matteo sent an incredulous stare at the lad. The urchin shrugged and lifted the mirror to his own face, preening a bit and combing his cap of short brown hair with surprisingly delicate fingers.

"You told a deliberate lie," Matteo marveled.

It was the urchin's turn to be surprised. "I did a lot of things. That's the one that caught your fancy?"

Matteo glanced at the man writhing on the cobblestone and remembered the boy's deft and dangerous performance in the tavern. There was something to the lad's logic. But his next words, when he spoke, surprised him.

"What do they say about the jordaini?" he demanded.

The lad's laughter was rich and merry. "Many things, no doubt! I spoke of your ability to fight wizards. Why do you ask?"

"That wizard said much the same when I remarked that you had talent."

A knowing glint kindled in the urchin's eyes. "Repeat your exact words."

Matteo blinked, puzzled by the request but not confounded. He could repeat entire conversations verbatim. This was an important part of his training. "I merely said of your performance, 'The lad has talent. Nothing more."

"Oh. Well, that explains it."

He folded his arms. "Not to me, it doesn't."

With a grin, the «lad» shrugged off a loose brown over-tunic to reveal a shirt of thin linen and the slender but unmistakably female form beneath.

"They say that jordaini have little experience with women." She winked and thrust out a hand. "I'm Tzigone, and I'm here to change all that."

Dazed into rote compliance with protocol, Matteo took the offered hand. He balked, however, at accepting what the handclasp seemed to offer. "You are gravely mistaken. There is no place for a woman in my life."

"Make one," she said adamantly. "You just saved my skin. That creates a debt, and whether you like it or not, I'll be around until that debt is paid."

"I assure you, that is most u

She glanced back toward the tavern and then took his arm. "Wrong again. Looks like I'll be paying the first installment sooner than expected."

Matteo followed the line of her gaze. The wemic reeled out into the alley and began to pad unsteadily toward them in a weaving but deliberate path. With each step, the creature seemed to gather strength and purpose.

Tzigone stamped her foot impatiently and tugged at his arm. "Are you going to stand there and shout 'Here, kitty! until that thing pounces? Come on, before this gets worse!"

He remembered the dark, avid glee on the magehound's face as she condemned Andris to death. Yes, things could definitely get worse.

With a sigh, he turned and followed his new companion out into the street.

Chapter Five

Matteo soon learned that following Tzigone was no easy task. The lad-no, he corrected himself, not lad but maiden-could run like a lizard and climb nearly as well.

They were ru

Too late. As he rounded the corner, he heard the wemic's voice lifted in a sound that was half snarl, half guttural chuckle, and utterly triumphant.

Tzigone heard it, too. She cast a baleful look over her shoulder at Matteo and began to climb the vine-covered walls. "At least try to hurry," she muttered.

Matteo tested a handful of the fragrant vines and found that they would hold his weight. The rough stones on the wall beneath provided footholds. It was not unlike some of his training exercises, and he managed to almost keep pace with Tzigone.

The roof was smooth and broad. Tzigone rolled to her feet and started off at a trot. She pointed toward the public garden in the midst of the city. "Going roof to roof, we can reach the bilboa tree from here. Once we're in the tree, Mbatu will never find us."

Matteo was momentarily startled to hear her speak the wemic's name. "You have had dealings with this wemic?"

She tossed a glance back at him. "How many lion-men have you seen in this part of the world? Stories are told, and I have ears to listen."

"Ah. Rumors."

"They've kept me alive so far," she retorted. She turned and planted her fists on her narrow hips. "Why are you just standing there? Are you coming or not?"

"Not." He folded his arms and leveled a steady gaze upon the incredulous Tzigone. "Do not think me ungrateful for your help, but I have had enough of flight. Go your way and leave me to mine."