The Magehound

"Lord Procopio." Matteo swept into a formal bow.

The wizard waved aside this courtesy. "You took your time in coming, young man. The crew has been holding the skyship for your arrival."

This was an unexpected treat. Matteo's eyes lit up. Then his gaze darted to the other jordain for confirmation. They regarded him with narrowed eyes and scowls. Puzzled, Matteo turned back to his new patron. "You wish us to accompany you on the skyship?"

"Just you. Come aboard, unless you can fly on your own power," the wizard said tartly. He turned and strode toward one of the docked ships.

Matteo followed, studying the vessel with interest. The image of a long, sinuous snake had been painted in rainbow colors on the side of the ship and continued to coil its way up the foremost mainsail. The other sails depicted a starsnake's wings, and elaborate curved runes painted onto the hull confirmed that Starsnake was indeed the ship's name.

Lord Procopio led the way to the forecastle and twisted the gold and silver rod mounted there. The skyship rose gracefully into the sky, more rapidly than Matteo would have thought possible.

The wizard looked at him sharply. "You look surprised. Have you not learned the properties of such ships?"

"I have, my lord. Knowing is one thing, experiencing is quite another."

"True enough. How fast are we going?"

Matteo considered what he knew of the ships and calculated the effects of the winds off Lake Halruaa. "Seventeen knots," he said firmly, glancing toward the helmsman for confirmation.

The helmsman nodded. Procopio shrugged, unimpressed, and pointed out toward the center of the lake. "Take her out. Let's give our new counselor a bit of a challenge."

The man at the wheel looked none too happy, but he did as he was bade, leaning his weight into turning the heavy wheel.

This put Matteo in the uncomfortable position of needing to give advice before any was requested. He wondered that he would have to do so, for the dangerous winds of Lake Halruaa were proverbial. No ship sailed the interior of the lake, not on the surface and not in the air.

"Lord Procopio, if I am to fulfill my duty, I must advise you against going out over the lake," Matteo said respectfully.

Procopio's only response was to point toward another ship, skirting the shore and rapidly approaching them.

"That is the Avariel, owned by the conjurer Basel Indoulur. He is a reckless man, proud enough to consider himself my rival. If we engage him in challenge, he will not turn away."

Procopio turned to a blue scrying globe mounted on a pedestal and gestured over it. Clouds swam in the circular sky, then parted to reveal the face of his apparent rival. The man was portly, with pillowy cheeks and small, shrewd eyes. His black hair had been oiled and worked into many small braids that hung nearly to his shoulders. The wizards exchanged the expected pleasantries, then Procopio got down to business.

"Fine winds today, Lord Basel."

The image of the wizard nodded happily. "Aye. The Avariel is giving near to five and twenty knots. I wouldn't have thought the old girl could dance to so merry a tune."

"Small wonder. You sail deep into the lake winds."

"No deeper than you," Basel retorted. "If you've something on your mind, man, have out with it."

"A challenge. A contest of will and nerve."

Basel's eyes bulged, then he laughed. "A game of chicken, in other words. Come, Lord Procopio-a child's game?"

"Made interesting by a man's wager. Say, two thousand side? And I'm no such fool to suggest a collision course. A contest of skill and speed. The first to reach thirty knots takes it."

The wizard's small eyes glinted. "I'm not so good a friend that I won't take your money," he agreed, and then his image winked out of sight.

Procopio turned to Matteo. "Imagine that this is your first campaign. You will advise the general, who has been ordered to follow your counsel. The outcome of this battle is entirely in your hands."

Matteo longed to retort that this was a silly wager, not a battle worth fighting. To achieve those speeds, the ships would have to venture far out over the waters, where the winds were strong and unpredictable.

But the wizard had created the situation, and it was Matteo's duty to make of it what he could. He sca

"What crew does the Avariel carry?"

Procopio nodded his approval of this query. "Same as Starsnake, to the man. Six and twenty. The skyships were built by the same shipmaster, and the rods of levitation were enchanted by the same wizard. The ships are sisters. This contest will not be determined by the vessel, but by the wisdom of the captains."

Matteo was tempted to point out that a wise man didn't take such large risks for sport or pride. Young as he was, he understood that not all truth should be spoken aloud. He turned to the helmsman, a thin, balding man nearly a head shorter than the wizard. "Your name, sir?"

The man blinked, obviously surprised by the question and the courtesy. "Spalding, m'lord, an' it please ye."

"You do me too much honor," he said with a smile. "Procopio Septus is the only lord here. My name is Matteo."

"As ye will, m'… Matteo."

"Thirty degrees toward starboard, Spalding."

Procopio scowled as the ship turned and slowed. "You're heading back toward shore. That's a coward's course, and certain defeat Turn back into the lake winds, if you've the stomach for it!"

Being chided for a coward stung, but the jordain shook his head and studied the shoreline. "Hold steady, Spalding. On my mark, turn hard to starboard. Head directly to the shore by the shortest route and hold course. Trim the sails as needed to maintain speed."

The helmsman blanched, but he faithfully relayed the order to the crew who ma

"Bold move!" Procopio taunted.

For a moment the sails fluttered slack. Then, as Matteo expected, they snapped taut and the ship leaped forward.

The wizard's brow furrowed with puzzlement. "This course seems destined to take us directly into the Avariel's path."

"That is my intent."

Procopio stared at him, slack-jawed with astonishment. He shut his mouth with an audible click and shook his head. "You've gone mad. I've seen it before. Some men just can't fly-the thin air addles their thinking. I'm taking over command, Spalding."

"No," Matteo said calmly. He noticed the speculative gleam in his new patron's eyes, and at this moment he understood that this was not pointless folly, but a test. If he meant to win Procopio's respect, he had to see this through. "You bade me win this battle for you, and that is precisely what I am doing."

"Victory is sweet, but I'd rather have my ship, whole and skyworthy!"

"Then stand by. To turn aside now would be dangerous." To add weight to his words and to signify the seriousness of his intent, Matteo stepped between the incredulous wizard and the helmsman. He held the little man's eyes with an unflinching gaze, one that held a different sort of challenge. This was clearly not what Procopio had been expecting. The wizard's face turned purple with a mixture of anger and bruised pride. He could not compel Matteo by magic, and it was equally certain that he could not enforce his will by strength of arm. Procopio stepped back, his eyes black with anger, and began the gestures of a spell that would sidestep the jordain and impose his will on the helmsman.

Matteo recognized the spell and deftly countered it. He seized the wizard's right wrist and swept it up high, then hooked his thumb around the small finger of the left. This altered the gestures, turning the intended spell into a harmless illusion. Colored lights began to dance upon the sail, casting images of lithe women dancing in a circle, dressed in the feathers of the painted starsnake's wings. Procopio dropped his hands to his sides and stared incredulously at the flickering image, all that remained of his interrupted spell.