The Magehound

She shrugged again, not seeing the sense in it. "What did Cassia have to say?"

"I think she intends to recommend me to Queen Beatrix," Matteo grumbled.

Tzigone brightened. "That's a good thing, isn't it? Becoming the queen's counselor?"

"Not if it means going to the palace in disgrace, as a means of saving my current patron trouble."

"After you've arrived at a destination, does it truly matter if you traveled by horse or mule?" she pointed out "Once you're there, the journey is quickly forgotten."

Matteo had to admit that there was a certain practicality to this. "I am begi

She laughed merrily and linked her arm through his, pulling him back into a slow walk. "Didn't I tell you that you'd get used to me in time?"

"That is something we must discuss," he said slowly. "I ca

Tzigone stopped dead and stared up at him. "Interfering!"

She looked so dumbfounded that Matteo felt compelled to provide illumination. "Meddling. Or influencing, if you prefer that term. The most recent example was your performance in the Arbor Square."

"A man was getting ready to pull two very nasty-looking knives on you. My story served as a distraction," she pointed out.

"A distraction that offended a fellow jordain and prompted him to issue a challenge."

Tzigone folded her arms. "Which in turn brought you to the attention of the king's high counselor."

"Not all attention is desirable. Cassia thinks me an inept fool, and for that reason, she intends to recommend me to her rival."

"Who happens to be the Queen of Halruaa," Tzigone concluded, exasperation edging her tones. "I thought jordaini were supposed to be ambitious! Who cares how you arrive at such a high place? Once you get there, you set about to make your mark." She struck a haughty pose. "If you ca

The imitation was unca

"The voices?" She shrugged. "I'm told that I'm a natural mimic. I used to travel with a troupe of entertainers who hawked me as 'The Human Mockingbird. It was fun for a while," she confided, "but the feathers on the costume made me sneeze. You've heard of Old Bess?"

It took Matteo a moment to follow the abrupt shift in her conversation, but he nodded. Few people in the coastal lowlands did not know of the notorious pirate. A plump, middle-aged woman with the cheery ma

"I have had occasion to speak with her," Matteo admitted. "Two years past, she spent part of the summer rains at the jordaini house, insensible with fever."

"That old shark?" Tzigone said incredulously. "I'm surprised the jordaini would have anything to do with her."

"Sometimes criminals and foreigners are brought to the house for treatment so that the students might observe the course of serious disease and injury and learn of their treatments," he explained. "In all truth, no one expected her to live. When she recovered, she insisted upon paying for her keep and her care by instructing some of the students in tides and currents. It was her tales of battle, however, that provided the liveliest lessons," he confessed with a little grin.

"Then you know the voice." Tzigone cleared her throat and pursed her lips as she smiled, in a ma

"Wot'll ye be havin' now, dearie?" she said with bright charm and a thick north-isle Moonshae accent. "Will it be a fish knife through yer gizzard, or will ye be having a sit-down on the business end of a pike?"

She went on, cheerfully listing increasingly gory methods of death in a tone more suited to a tavern wench's blithe recitation of the night's fare.

As he listened, Matteo felt his lips twitch and his ire begin to fade. It was difficult to remain angry with Tzigone for long. The wench was amusing, and in her own way, she truly did seem to mean well.

He also found her interesting in a ma

"And now a recitation from the decadent northlands," she suggested, her voice smoothed from a Moonshae burr into an affected drawl.

"They're far from staid after a raid,

These men of Zhentil Keep.

They kill off all the women,

For they much prefer the sheep.”

"The men don't eat their ill-got treat.

Not one of them's a glutton.

So isn't it a marvel

That they always smell of mutton?"

She declaimed the verse in ringing metered speech, much as a classically trained bard might deliver news of battle or recite an epic of long-dead heroes. The combination of her cultured tone with the bawdy verse had Matteo shaking his head in amazement.

"Wherever did you hear such a thing?"

"Great songs endure, but bad ones travel," she informed him with a grin.

He chuckled. "I'm not familiar with that proverb, but it seems to hold true."

"Proverb?" A flicker of a

Matteo knew the answer but found that he didn't relish speaking it. "I'm afraid we part ways," he said with genuine regret as he prepared to drop her burlap bag at her feet.

Her eyes widened in alarm, and she flung out a hand to stop him. "Don't put that down!"

Suspicion bloomed anew, and with it came a sharp, painful stab of self-reproach. Jordaini had a strong resistance to magic, including all means of magical inquiry. Since they could seldom be seen through scrying devices or seeking spells, they were natural couriers. Elaborate protocols ensured that they could not be used as such, even by their patrons. They carried only what they could place in the leather bags at their belt, and they memorized messages rather than carry scrolls. By accepting the bag from Tzigone, Matteo had gone against tradition and broken several core rules. And in not questioning her intent in handing him the sack, he had proven himself to be as naive as she had named him.

"What's in here?" he demanded.

Not waiting for an answer, he jerked open the sack and thrust one hand into it. His fingers closed around a smooth, hard cylinder. He drew it out, his heart pounding as he regarded the wood and leather scroll case.

"It's a spell book," he said incredulously. "You told me that you were no wizard."

"You don't need to be a wizard to know the price of such things," Tzigone retorted. "It'll bring a good profit in the markets, provided I sell it after dark and well away from this part of the city."

Relief swept through Matteo. The reaction surprised him, as did the realization that it was easier for him to deal with Tzigone as a thief than as a wizard. Surely he did not approve of thievery, but in his world, wizards could play only two roles: patrons to be served, or enemies to be outwitted and defeated.