The Magehound

Fury flashed through the magehound's eyes, followed quickly by a flicker of indecision. Her cool mask was back in place so quickly that Matteo, had he not been studying her so intently, would have wondered if he'd imagined her initial response.

"There is nothing to explain," Kiva said in her cool, bell-like tones. "The girl is reputed to have a sharp and clever tongue, and the jordaini were not the only targets of her jests. She insulted Mbatu the day before. The wemic is quick to anger and quicker to attack. He tended his own business, not mine. For that, he has been duly rebuked. As to the misunderstanding about the girl's identity, please recall that I speak your language as a second tongue. I have not the precision of speech that a jordain employs. One scoundrel or two, the girl was the wemic's concern and not mine. I know nothing of her, and that is more than I care to know."

Dimidis looked faintly disappointed by this mundane explanation. "Then I suppose we're finished here. I have little choice but to dismiss the matter. Among the petitions for Matteo's services is one we could hardly ignore. Procopio Septus, Lord Mayor of Halarahh, finds himself in need of counsel."

Matteo's eyes widened at this most unexpected news. Procopio was a powerful diviner, the mayor of Halruaa's capital city and the captain of that city's skyship militia. This was a coveted position and one that far exceeded his aspirations for his first post.

For a moment pride surged, washing away some of the humiliation of the past few days. Then it occurred to him that this post would probably have gone to Andris, had he lived.

Even so, it was a far better fate than he had expected. Matteo dipped into a deep bow. "Humbly I accept this post, Lord Dimidis, if that is the council's desire."

"My wishes have little to do with this," Dimidis said in a sour tone. "Just see that you have no further cause to stand before the Disputation Table, and I will be content."

Several days passed as Matteo traveled to Halarahh, the capital of the land and the home of Zalathorm, the wizard-king. It was not so very far a distance as the raven flies, provided that a raven could be persuaded to fly across the lower edge of the Swamp of Akhlaur and brave the winds that roiled over Lake Halruaa.

The best and safest way to travel was by ship. Matteo set sail from Khaerbaal, skirting the coastline of the Bay of Taertal and moving along the western shores of Lake Halruaa.

The days passed swiftly, despite his increasing anticipation. Matteo had not traveled to Halarahh since his twelfth year. His first glimpse of the city, as the ship rounded the storm break, proved more than equal to his memories.

Much of the city was organized around the docks. But Halarahh was not like Khaerbaal, where prim rows of wooden docks jutted out into the sea and led to businesslike warehouses, i

"What fair is currently ru

The man's eyes lit up. "The Monster Fair. It'll be a sight, if you've time to take it in. Good bull aurochs, for farmers who've got the pasturage to feed fuzzy elephants. Don't hold much with them myself. Meat's too gamey. Much prefer a good haunch of rothe."

A faint stab of disappointment assailed Matteo at this mundane description. "It's a market for cattle, then?"

"And everything else. The fancy lizards that ladies keep as pets these days. Birds from the Mhair Jungles. Griffon kittens, dragon eggs. If you can eat it, cage it, put it on a leash, or chop it up for spell parts, like as not it'll be there. I hear tell they've even got a unicorn up for bid."

It was on the tip of Matteo's tongue to ask which of these fates awaited the unicorn, but he decided he would rather not know. He thanked the man and went off to collect his few possessions.

The ship moved smoothly into the dock, and Matteo was met at the plank by men wearing jordaini white and distinctly unpleasant expressions. They looked him over in a ma

"You're Procopio's latest?" one of them demanded.

"I am Matteo, and I am here to enter the service of Procopio Septus," he agreed.

"Well, come along," the speaker said grudgingly.

The men spun and stalked off, leaving Matteo to follow or not.

He was surprised by the less than enthusiastic welcome, but he was too fascinated by his surroundings to take much offense. Halarahh was a wondrous city, the largest in the land, home to nearly eight thousand souls. Yet as Matteo's escort led him through the market square toward the villa of Procopio Septus, he didn't once get the feeling of being in a close or crowded place.

The villas they passed were sprawling and spacious. Even the homes of middling folk boasted comfortable grounds filled with gardens and flowers. Public parks and gardens greeted them at nearly every turn. Wide streets opened into large courtyards, many of which housed open-air markets, smaller versions of the vast dockside square.

The city was comfortably cool, a welcome respite from the punishing sun of Matteo's sea journey. Perched on the northern banks of Lake Halruaa, the city sat at the confluence of two of the land's greatest rivers: Halar and Aluar. Soft breezes wafted off the waters and were captured and magnified by many i

Although Matteo could not work magic, he had spent most of his life in study of it. Never, however, had he seen so much of it concentrated in one place. Almost half the inhabitants of the city were spellcasters, and at least three hundred made their livelihood by working magic. Wizards' towers leaped toward the azure sky, giving the city an aspect of a forest fashioned of marble and crystal and stone. Magical lamps lined the streets and enlivened the homes and shops. As they passed the open doors of some of the grander shops, they were treated to a soft caress from the soft, scented breezes that magically cooled the merchants and their customers. Flat-bedded carts trundled by at regular intervals, laden with magically created ice blocks that cooled folks of lesser means.

But what most amazed Matteo were the skyships. Although Halruaa was famed for these marvelous cloud-going vessels, Matteo had never seen one close at hand. His last trip to Halarahh had taken place during the winter, when most skyships kept close to land. He had observed the spring regatta at the Lady Day festivals that took place in every city in the land, but he had always seen the skyship display from a distance. It was considered unseemly for a jordain to be sprinkled with fortune-telling magic.

So he was vastly pleased when the road his fellow jordaini traveled led toward the docks where the ships came to roost. Several of the graceful ships wheeled through the sky as they traced the edges of the lake like fine ladies on a summer evening's promenade. Each of the ships boasted three masts, plus a flying jib aft and two sails astern on swinging booms. The bodies of the ships were plated with armor from giant sea turtles, so from below they looked much the same. But much color and design had been lavished upon the sails.

"You're staring like a peasant," one of the jordaini observed coldly. "Have you never seen a skyship?"

"Never so close at hand. What stately grace," Matteo marveled. "They look rather like kites flown by giant, powerful children."

"A fine way to describe your new patron," observed a dry voice behind him.

Matteo turned. A short, thin man stood behind him, arms folded and head tilted to one side as he returned Matteo's gaze. The newcomer was a striking man, one who would draw eyes in a crowd despite his lack of stature. His nose was hooked like a hawk's, and his thick snowy hair had been cut exceedingly short so that it bristled about his head. His medallion proclaimed him a wizard of the divination school, and the ring on his hand was etched with the seal of the city: a triangle pointed downward with a star at the tip to represent the shape of the land on which Halarahh sat. Wavy lines etched over the whole completed the crest of the windswept city.