The Magehound

"We won in Kilmaruu," Andris stated. "We resolved the Kilmaruu Paradox, just as I told you."

Matteo stared at him. "So that's why Kiva took you. But how could she know of your studies of Kilmaruu? Did you tell anyone other than me and the jordaini masters?"

"No one."

"Then how did she know?"

Both men fell silent as they considered this disturbing puzzle.

"I can answer that," Tzigone said with obvious reluctance. "You told the jordaini masters, right? Well, there you go. One of them passed information along to Kiva."

"That's impossible," Andris said flatly.

"A year ago, I would have agreed," Matteo said, his face thoughtful and troubled. He turned to Tzigone. "Are you suggesting a possibility, or do you know this for truth?"

Tzigone squirmed. "Let's say that maybe one of the masters has a secret he'd just as soon not hear spoken aloud. Kiva knows this secret, and she trades silence for information. She wanted a battlemaster, right? Who were her best choices?"

"Andris and I stood nearly equal in most of our studies," Matteo said.

"Well, that explains why Kiva chose Andris. I'm guessing the master gave up without a word of protest. He probably figured better Andris than you."

"What is this secret?" Matteo said quietly.

She was silent for a long moment. "Knowing what you do, how would you respond if you knew that one of your jordaini masters was your true father? How long before you ferreted out the secrets of the jordaini class, before you found your mother? And how long before your brothers started similar searches? The entire order would be in, well, disorder."

Matteo considered this. "One of my masters sired me. And the woman you showed me. She was in fact my mother?"

"Yes."

He nodded, his face set and grim. "Then the wizard had reason to keep his secret. I would have killed him for what was done to her. I may still. You know his name, don't you?"

Tzigone hesitated, then shook her head. "I've always searched for my mother. When I saw your lineage, my eye went right to your mother's name. I read everything written about her, but I paid scant attention to the father's information. He's a wizard at the Jordaini College, that's all I know for sure."

Andris listened to this exchange with an increasingly incredulous expression. "Matteo, this is absurd! Surely you don't believe this boy's tall tales! The jordaini order has come to a sad state when the lads give in to open falsehood."

"Watch who you're calling a jordain!" Tzigone fumed, jabbing her forefinger into Andris's chest. "Don't start with me, unless you want to hear a few things about yourself that you won't like knowing."

Despite himself, the tall man looked intrigued. "A jordain’s ancestry is not important."

"You look real convinced of that," she said dryly. "So let's leave it at this: You're elf-blooded. It's back a few generations, but trust me, it's there."

Andris stared at her as if she'd run a sword through his gut. Matteo sighed and turned to Tzigone, who had apparently forgotten that she was wearing the «borrowed» vestments of the jordaini order. "Was that really necessary?"

"I've been into the swamp," she said grimly. "Not far into it, but far enough. Trust me, it's necessary. No one with a drop of elf blood ought to go near that place."

"To the contrary," Andris said softly. "I have even better reason now than I did before."

Tzigone huffed and threw up her hands. "You try to do the right thing, and who listens?"

Andris draped an arm around his friend's shoulders. "We are doing a great thing here. I hope you'll choose to join us."

They turned to watch the fighters, who had resumed their training. As Matteo studied the group, he recognized a number of men from his school, students who, at a very young age, had been found unsuitable for a jordain's life and released from service. Also among them were two or three men who had been condemned by the magehound as magic-tainted. Yet they had fought with passion and pride, preparing to serve the elf woman who had destroyed their lives.

"You and I are jordaini," Andris said quietly. "Chosen for our gifts, trained to serve the wizards of Halruaa. None of the wizards can halt the spread of the Swamp of Akhlaur. We can."

Despite himself, Matteo was interested. "You know the secret of the swamp?"

"The wizard Akhlaur opened a gate to the Plane of Water. A trickle remains, and the laraken feeds upon the spill of magic from the elemental plane. It is our task to fight through to the gate and make the way clear for Kiva. While we engage the laraken, she will enter the swamp and close the gate."

"But that is worse than the Kilmaruu Paradox!" Matteo protested. "If the gate is closed, the laraken will be unleashed upon the land. Many wizards will be destroyed."

Tzigone sniffed. "Well, there's more to Kiva than I suspected! I thought I was the only one to have that particular dream."

Andris eyed her with interest. "You do not care for wizards. That's a strange sentiment for a jordaini lad."

"I'm not a boy, and I'm no jordain!" she said emphatically. "What I am is chock-full of magic. Laraken eat magic. So as far as I can figure, there's only one reason for Kiva to want me here: bait."

The jordain's face lit up. "You are the young woman of whom Kiva spoke! The one who can call the laraken!"

Tzigone's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think this laraken will come when I call it?"

"You have the gift. Kiva says that it is so-an inheritance from your mother, the wizard Keturah."

The color drained from Tzigone's face. "Keturah," she said, repeating a name that was suddenly familiar. "Of course. All creatures came to Mother's call."

"You have both magic and resistance to magic. The laraken will be enticed by your voice. You will lure it away from the magical gate, and Kiva will close the leak forever. But if Kiva is correct, the laraken will not be able to touch the magic locked inside you."

"And if Kiva is not correct?" Tzigone asked, her voice a mocking imitation of the jordain's worshipful tones.

"I would not ask this of her," Matteo said softly. "She may have this talent from her mother, but I suspect she also has a bit of the diviner's gift. Her sight doesn't go forward, but back in time. I have seen it. This gift is newly awakened in her. I do not know if the laraken will sense it or not."

Andris considered this. "If this is true, then the battle would be dangerous to her, and to us as well. Only people who are utterly without magic can avoid the laraken."

"It is too big a risk to take," Matteo said. "Tzigone, you must leave. Go now, and quickly."

His words stirred memory, memory awakened by the sound of her mother's name.

Run, child! Keturah had said, her beautiful voice shrill with fear. Don't stop for anything.

The words echoed through Tzigone's mind and chilled her heart, just as they had done nearly twenty years before. She responded instinctively, like the child she had been, arid she turned on her heel and fled.

She ran to the nearest big tree and scrambled up into its comforting, leafy arms. She fisted her hands and dug them into her eyes, fiercely willing herself into the darkness of the memory trance.

Tzigone slipped back, back, until once again she was a small child, fleeing with her mother. They were in the puzzle palace, a magical maze that filled a vast courtyard. Footsteps thudded through the villa toward them.

Tzigone turned to dart back into the insane courtyard, plucking at her mother's skirt. But the woman gently pried the small fingers loose.

"Go," she said quietly. "My magic is nearly gone. They will find me soon whether I run or stay."

"I won't leave you," the child said stubbornly.

"You must. It is you they seek."

The child Tzigone nodded. Somehow she had always known. But knowing wasn't the same as doing, and she could not bear to leave.