The Wizardwar

"I didn't call him the first time."

"Sure you did. You're better at it than I am-that was the most convincing illusion I've seen yet."

"That's impossible! I'm a jordain!"

Even as he spoke, Matteo realized the truth of her words. He could see magic in this place, sense it in a way that powerful wizards and elven magi were said to do. The Weave, the magic Mystra spun and sustained, was as foreign to him as air was to a fish, but perhaps this place knew magic of another sort.

"The Shadow Weave," he said. "It does exist! And I can sense it, even use it!"

He seized the girl's shoulders and turned her to face him. "Shortly before I left the Jordaini College, we received word of a new sort of magic sifting into the Northlands, perhaps even into Halruaa. It is said that the goddess Shar created another source of magic, one that has nothing to do with Mystra. Sages suspect that she experimented in isolated lands, perhaps in other planes of existence. This place of mist and shadows may be one such realm!"

Tzigone looked skeptical. "Fairies have their own gods. Didn't they have anything to say about this? They just stood by and let this Shar set up housekeeping?"

"This is not the Unseelie Court," he explained, "but a corridor between their world and ours. Nothing is real here. I suspect that the dark fairies have no power to hold us-perhaps they are protecting their own borders, as we do ours! Illusion is all-powerful here. It may be that people who stumble in are trapped simply because they believe they can't leave."

She frowned as she tried to sort all this through. "So you're telling me that you're some sort of wizard, after all."

"No! Well, perhaps," he amended. "The jordaini are vessels empty of Mystra's Art. It is possible that this void makes us uniquely suited to the Shadow Weave."

Tzigone shrugged. "You're usually right. What interests me most at the moment is the notion that we could leave any time. Now would be good for me."

A faint glow dawned in the nearby mists as another gate took shape. The faint keening of fairy song surged in alarm, and small black streaks hurtled toward them.

Matteo put two fingers to his lips and blew a sharp, shrill whistle.

The clatter of hooves a

"Iron horseshoes," Matteo murmured with satisfaction as he drew dagger and sword. "You can cast spells here-magic of many sorts is present. Transmute these to iron."

Tzigone raced through the words of a spell. The weapons grew heavier, and their shining metal turned as dull as the mist.

"Well done," he said as he handed her the iron dagger.

"Cyric and me," Tzigone said, holding up two entwined fingers.

Several dark shapes outflanked the stallion and sped toward them. Tzigone dropped into a knife-fighter's crouch and slashed out. For a moment a dark fairy female stood revealed, stu

Matteo fell into guard position, scything a path with his iron sword. He and Tzigone backed slowly toward the glowing portal. Finally Tzigone threw the dagger at the nearest foe and gave Matteo an ungentle shove.

They turned and ran the last steps to the magical portal. Together they leaped through, landing on ground that felt blissfully solid and hard.

He picked himself up and looked for Tzigone. Basel had already swept her up into a crushing embrace.

Andris came over to Matteo's side. "It is said that those who enter the Unseelie court come out being what they truly are," he said softly. "What did you see? What did you learn?"

Matteo's gaze swept the Nath, searching for some sign of the Shadow Weave. He did not see its magic as he had in the Unseelie corridor. Not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved, he shrugged. "I am simply a jordain, nothing more."

The girl came over to Matteo, beaming, but pulled up short when her gaze fell upon the nearly transparent Andris.

"Nine hollow Hells! What's he doing here?"

"Andris is a jordain, pledged to the service of Halruaa. He is helping me tend several tasks of great importance."

"Isn't that cozy?" Tzigone folded her arms. "Last I knew, you two were going at each other with swords and looking pretty damned serious about it. Last I heard, he was working with Kiva and the Crinti."

"We've come to an understanding," Matteo said.

The girl shook her head. "I don't think you've got another Cyric here, Matteo."

Andris attempted an ironic smile. "Shall I take that as a compliment?"

"You can take it to hell and back, for all I care," Tzigone told him. "In the meanwhile, keep out of my way."

The ghostly jordain bowed and walked quietly away. Matteo started after him, then decided his friend would prefer solitude.

"You're wrong about Andris," he told her softly. "He is a good man, with perhaps too strong a sense of his destiny."

"Maybe." She tucked her arm through his and sent him a crooked smile. "You do have an a

"I have an a

Tzigone pulled away and propped her fists on her hips. "You want to repeat that for people who don't speak jordaini?"

"Andris was right-those who pass the veil see themselves as never before. I didn't realize how large a part pride played in my life. Now I see it at every turn, and it is not an attractive sight."

"You're proud," she agreed, "and that's like saying Sinestra Belajoon, one of the most beautiful women in Halruaa, is vain. The way I see it, you're both entitled."

"Pride directs the focus inward. I look to Halruaan lore for answers. You are much more flexible than I. Without your quick thinking, we might not have fought our way through the dark fairies."

Her eyes went wide. "Who showed me how to recover memories? That came in very handy. Who was it who told me I was a wizard and urged me to learn about my magic?"

Matteo sighed. "You would have found your way to these things in time."

"I'll bet you tell a corpse the same thing. 'Don't worry about this minor defeat, my good fellow-I'm sure you would have picked up that sword sooner or later.'" She gave a wickedly precise imitation of Matteo's speech. "Would it salve your jordaini pride if I played the part of a swooning maiden?" she asked in her own voice.

The image was so ludicrous that Matteo couldn't help but smile. "It might."

"Well, forget it. Now that we're back, what are you? Still a jordain?"

He considered that. The sharp contrast between the shadowy plane and the world he knew had muted his perception. The ability to see magic had faded, yet there was something....

"I suppose that depends upon your definition," he said.

"Jordain," she recited helpfully. "A prissy, arrogant know-it-all who can drone on about any subject at all until his listeners start bleeding from both ears. Someone who couldn't bend a law in a gale. An old maid who only knows enough about fun to keep me from having any."

Matteo's lips quirked. "That does sound familiar," he agreed.

Tzigone nodded and returned to his arms. "Then tell me this: Why am I so glad to be back?"