The Magehound

"Watch carefully and see if you can detect the skill in what I am about to do. For it is skill alone, not so much as a drop of magic!"

She called up a child, and with much flourish, she pulled a skie from behind his ear.

"A simple conjurer's trick!" scoffed someone from the audience.

Tzigone dropped her arms to her side and turned, staring incredulously at the heckler. Matteo followed the line of her gaze. The man who'd spoken was young and obviously wealthy, for he was clad in violet silk and decked with far too much gold and amethyst jewelry. There were many like him in Halruaa's cities: sons and daughters of successful merchants who had time and means to while away their hours in the shops and festhalls.

She took hold of the hems of her gaudy vest and spread it open. "If I could conjure as many coins as I'd like, would I spend them on such elegant, subtle garments? And judging from your raiment," she added dryly, "I doubt you're of the conjurer's school either."

A ripple of laughter went through the crowd, and the fop shrugged self-consciously. Tzigone pointed at a street merchant, a plump woman with a half-full basket of oranges balanced on one generous hip. The fruit was past ripe, the sticky scent of it was strong in the air, and a few bees buzzed and circled over the basket. "Toss me a few of those fruit, if you please." The woman reached into her basket and took out three oranges. Tzigone deftly caught them and started tossing and catching them. With a challenging smile, the merchant threw another orange, and then several more in rapid succession. Tzigone caught them all and added them to the dancing pattern, which she constantly shifted and varied. The oranges circled and darted, crossing and leaping and changing direction in her deft hands. The crowd's murmurs of approval deepened and turned into applause. "Illusion!" hollered a ski

"No need to wash that tunic," she told him sweetly, juggling still. "The juice is just an illusion. And so are the bees that it will likely draw."

At that moment the youth let out a howl and slapped at his neck. The orange merchant convulsed with laughter, doubling over and nearly spilling the contents of her basket When the crowd's mirth had died, Tzigone tossed the oranges one by one back into the merchant's bin. She then struck a haughty pose, an eerily precise imitation of Frando's stance and expression. Matteo raised a hand to his lips to suppress a smile.

"Consider the problem of pirates," she droned in obvious mockery of Frando's lecture. As she spoke, her head rolled back and her jaw fell slack into an audible snore. She pantomimed a startled awakening at the crowd's laughter, and then shook herself as if to banish the last vestiges of sleep.

"The problem with pirates," she said in a far more animated tone, "is that they occasionally come ashore. Then they become your problem and mine. I bid you good folk to hear this cautionary tale, and leave this place the wiser for it.

"A lady jordain was sent to carry a message for her patron. With her was another counselor in need of training, who for our purposes need not be named." Again she puckered her face into an approximation of Frando's prissy expression, and the crowd chuckled and looked about for the jordain.

"As night began to fall, their path took them through streets that wiser men avoid. Before long, a large, ill-favored man in a pirate's rough garb began to follow the two jordaini." Tzigone's brow beetled, and she took a couple of steps forward in deftly feigned menace.

"The lady's companion glanced behind them and took note of the danger. 'We are being followed, he said nervously. 'What could that big fellow want? »

The tone of Tzigone's voice was eerily like Frando's, and several people in the crowd chuckled and glanced at the crimson-faced man. Tzigone waited for silence and then continued her tale.

"The jordain woman shrugged. 'The usual, I suppose. He wishes to rob you and ravage me. "

This was an unexpected turn, and the crowd began to shift and exchange uncertain glances. Bawdy stories were not unknown in taverns, but never were they told in this respectable forum. Tzigone's mimicry might be clever, but her words were unseemly and far beyond the bounds of polite convention.

Tzigone seemed not to notice her audience's distress. "The woman's companion wrung his hands and asked what they should do. 'Why, the only logical thing, said the woman. 'We walk faster.

"They quickened their pace, but their pursuer easily matched them. 'He is gaining! wailed the jordain.

" 'Indeed, the woman said calmly. 'By my ciphering, the pirate should be upon us before that cloud passes over the moon.

" 'What should we do? her companion all but wept.

" 'The only logical thing. You run one way, and I will run another. It is well known that jordaini carry little and own no valuable items. If the pirate must choose between robbery and ravishment under those circumstances, which would be the logical choice?

"This reasoning lifted the man's spirits considerably. Without hesitation, he turned tail and scurried back toward the safety of their patron's house."

Tzigone paused again for the slightly mocking laughter directed toward Frando.

"Much later, the lady jordain arrived at the patron's house. By now Fran-that is, her companion-was nearly giddy with worry. He pounced upon her and demanded full details.

"The lady regarded him with puzzlement. 'What happened? she repeated. 'Why, the only logical thing that could have happened. The pirate gave chase and overtook me before the shadow of the cloud cleared the moon.

"The other jordain swallowed hard. 'What happened then, my lady?

" 'I did the only logical thing, she told him in a matter-of-fact tone. 'I pulled up my skirts. "

Several people in the crowd gasped. Tzigone nodded. "Yes. The jordain responded in much the same way when he heard this. He demanded to know what happened next. 'Why, the only logical thing, said the lady. 'The man pulled down his leggings.

" 'And what happened next? Tell me everything! " Tzigone spoke the words with breathless eagerness, leering as a salacious jordain might have done. Matteo noted that her expression was identical to that on Frando's face.

Before he could catch himself, he laughed aloud. Tzigone caught his eye and winked.

"The lady jordain looked her companion in the eye. 'The only logical thing happened. A lady with her skirts up can run much faster than a man with his breeches down. »

The unexpected ending brought a round of laughter and then applause. Frando, however, was tight-lipped with rage. He shouldered his way through the crowd with as much dignity as he could muster. As he passed Matteo, he leaned in close.

"We will finish this another time. I am certain that my patron will support my wish to challenge you to a public debate."

Zephyr's warnings flooded into Matteo's mind, and he understood the smug gleam in the other jordain's eyes. Frando's patron, Xavierlyn, was the Chief Elder of the city of Halarahh. She was one of the few wizards that Procopio Septus held in esteem, and the last person he would wish to challenge. Yet a debate between jordaini was the equivalent of a wizard's duel between their patrons-indeed, they were sometimes considered to be duels by proxy. Matteo watched as Frando sauntered off, no doubt dreaming of his coming vengeance.

Tzigone hopped off the dais and breezed through the crowd to his side. "No need to thank me," she said cheerfully.

"On that we are in accord," Matteo said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Have you any idea what you've done?"

She frowned. "Distracted a challenger? Stopped a fight? Made a few coins?" She jingled her bag. "Come on. I'll buy ale and sweet bread for us both."