Элейн Каннингем - The Floodgate

Matteo considered her for a long moment. "You took a risk asking about Keturah so openly. Do you trust Basel Indoulur?"

"Sort of."

His smile was faint and devoid of humor. "A common sentiment these days. Very well, I will see this wizard and learn what I can."

Acting on impulse, Tzigone threw her arms around Matteo's neck. From the corner of her eye, she noted two white-clad men coming from the palace gate. Mischief seized her, and she let herself drop. Matteo's arms went instinctively around her to keep her from falling. After a moment she released him and stepped back, her eyes twinkling and her lips curved in a lazy, replete smile.

"Oh no, my lord," she protested breathlessly as she handed him back his own coin bag. "Who could put a price on such mastery?"

She heaved a deep sigh and smoothed her hair. Then, turning, she sauntered off with a doxie's undulating swish.

She glanced back and grinned when she noted the respectful stares the other jordaini sent Matteo. One of the men clapped him on the shoulder in comradely fashion as he passed.

Matteo glowered at her and closed the distance between them with a few quick strides. "You were worried about your reputation," Tzigone said innocently, backing up to keep her distance. "It seems to have risen a trifle."

His stern expression wavered, and his lips twitched in a reluctant smile. Quickly he reclaimed his scowl and snatched up a melon from a passing cart. He tossed a coin to the protesting merchant, and then hefted the melon and aimed it at Tzigone.

She fled with a startled squeal, scurrying into an alcove in the thick wall of the palace. When no missile hurtled by, she chanced a glimpse out.

Matteo stood a few paces away. He held out a neatly carved slice. "Breakfast?"

Tzigone took the offered fruit and patted the bench beside her. Matteo settled down. In companionable silence, the queen's counselor and the painted street waif shared the fruit and split the loaf that Tzigone produced from her bag. For once, Matteo didn't ask her how she'd come by it. Nor did he comment upon the strange looks that passersby sent the mismatched pair.

They did not speak of the differences that separated them or the troubles that bound them. Nonetheless, by the time the sun edged over the eastern wall of the city, the darkness had likewise lifted from Tzigone's heart.

Matteo went directly to Dhamari Exchelsor’s tower, confident that he would be received. No one refused the queen's jordain, though the reasons for this hospitality varied. Matteo was well accustomed to receptions that ranged from extreme wariness to blatant ambition, depending upon which sort of news was anticipated.

To do away with this, Matteo explained to the gatekeeper that he came not on the queen's business but inquiring about a personal matter. He noted with interest the servant's reaction to this announcement: there was despair in his eyes, as if this news had shattered a dear hope. Some people knew no limits to their ambition!

The gatekeeper returned quickly and brought Matteo into the tower. The receiving room was not overly large, but it was appointed with comfortable chairs and small, scattered tables. A fountain played in one corner, spilling over the bottles of wine immersed in what Matteo assumed was a magically cooled pool. Silver goblets stood ready on the table nearby, and sugared fruits were arranged under a glass dome. Books lay on tables placed between the chairs, and candles to aid reading. Bell pulls hung at intervals on every wall, suggesting that servants would come promptly to tend a guest's needs. In all, an extremely comfortable and welcoming room.

Matteo had just barely taken a seat when his host appeared. He rose at once and gave the wizard the proscribed courtesies. Though jordaini were not required by law to lower their eyes while bowing to a wizard, Matteo did so to cover his surprise. He could not imagine how the woman who'd given birth to Tzigone would find herself wed to such a man!

Dhamari Exchelsor was mild looking, soft-bodied, and pale of complexion. His balding head came level with Matteo's shoulder, and his eyes had the myopic squint of a man who spends little time out of doors. His dark brown beard was neatly trimmed, his clothes simple and well made. Like his reception chamber, the wizard lacked ostentation or pretense. He looked like a man comfortable with the circumstances of his life and too content to strive for much of anything more. The word that came most strongly to mind when Matteo sought to describe him was "inoffensive."

"Please! You do me too much honor," Dhamari protested mildly. "I hope you will allow me to return the courtesy. If there is any way that I might serve you, speak freely."

Matteo lifted his eyes to his host's curious gaze. "You are most gracious, but you may regret your offer when you hear the story that brought me here."

"We will judge the tale once the telling is done. Will you have wine?" Dhamari gestured toward the cooling pool. "It is an Exchelsor pink, a fine companion to long and thirsty tales."

The jordain politely declined and took the chair Dhamari offered him. He told him a brief version of the story of Akhlaur's Swamp, describing the injury that sent Kiva into a long and sleeplike trance but omitting the fact of her escape.

"So you see," he concluded, "it is vital that we learn what became of this gate-if not from Kiva, then perhaps from those who had dealings with her."

Dhamari leaned back in his chair. "You have come well prepared. I had almost forgotten the time I spent with Kiva in this very tower."

This was news indeed! "How long ago?"

"I should say a good six and twenty years," the wizard reminisced. "We were both apprentices under the same mistress, a very talented wizard of the evocation school. It seems impossible that it could be so long ago!"

Matteo had intended to mention Kiva and work his way back to the elf's capture of Keturah. This was an unexpected shortcut! "Might this wizard, your former mistress, have knowledge of Kiva's life beyond this time of apprenticeship?"

"Would she? Oh yes, to her sorrow and mine!" The wizard took a long breath and sent Matteo an apologetic smile. "Forgive me. I speak so seldom of my lady Keturah. It is a great joy to do so and a great sorrow. Perhaps you know the name?"

"I heard it spoken in the Swamp of Akhlaur."

"I can see why." Dhamari leaned forward eagerly. "This girl, this untrained commoner whose voice held the laraken-tell me about her."

Matteo spread his hands in a negligent gesture. "There is little I can say. She is a street performer, a girl with a merry heart and a clever mind. She can imitate any voice she hears. Untrained in Art she certainly is, but she picked up a stray spell here and there. She possesses a strong wild talent, such as is seldom seen in these civilized times, but she is training now."

"Yes, with Basel Indoulur. I have heard," Dhamari said. "I was one of many wizards who offered to teach her, but both the council and the girl herself inclined toward Basel. He has had much experience as a teacher, you know."

Matteo didn't know, but he nodded politely. "Lord Basel is fond of apprentices," Dhamari went on. "He trains three at a time. He has done so ever since he left the Jordaini College."

This information hit Matteo like a barbarian's warhammer. "He was a master at the college?"

"Oh, yes. Before your time, I should think. Not much before, though. Eighteen, perhaps twenty years."

That was before his training, but certainly not before his time! Matteo remembered Tzigone's claim that one of his Jordaini masters was also his father. He had looked to the masters still at the school, never considering other possibilities. Apparently, Tzigone had.