Элейн Каннингем - The Floodgate

Nor was Basel blameless on this score. He could have spoken to Tzigone of her mother, and he did not. He had not told her of Matteo's visit, or suggested that the young jordain had urged Tzigone to contact Dhamari as a means to save him, Basel, from the follies of fatherly instinct.

The irony-layers and layers of it-was almost overwhelming.

With a sigh, Basel left the garden and made his way up the tower's winding stairs to the apprentices' floor. He had given Mason and Farrah Noor a day's holiday from their studies. There was no one to ask why he felt compelled to stop by Tzigone's room.

He missed the troublesome little wench. He enjoyed her quick mind and impish spirit, and he loved her as he would the daughter he should have had- might have had, if the council had not intervened. Instead, he had been turned out like a bull into a pasture containing an idealistic and single-minded heifer. In the eyes of the law, in any way that truly mattered, Basel's wife was dead-destroyed by her own dedication to the good of Halruaa.

The wizard's gaze fell upon the door to Tzigone's room, and the past disappeared from his mind like a windblown candle. The door was slightly ajar.

Basel's eyes narrowed. Tzigone always left the door open. She was accustomed to open spaces and could not sleep unless every door and window was flung wide. The wizard edged closer. The sounds of a furtive search came from within the room, then a gasp of astonishment.

Despite his size, Basel could be quick and silent. He reached into his spell bag for a small iron nail and eased himself into the room. His hand flashed in a quick circle as he spoke a single, arcane word. The nail vanished, and the intruder froze in the act of whirling toward him.

Basel paced into the room for a closer look at the would-be thief. The woman was of medium height and extraordinary beauty. Her hair was a glossy blue-black, her features delicate, her curves lavish. She wore a pale blue robe-an attempt at disguise, no doubt. A startled expression was carved onto her immobile face, and a medallion swung from her still hand.

The wizard's heart quickened as he studied the trinket. That was Keturah's talisman! There was no magic left to it other than the memories it evoked. No doubt Tzigone had left it there for safekeeping rather than risk losing it in her travels.

Basel tugged the chain from the woman's frozen fingers. Her trapped eyes followed his movements and glazed with despair.

He recognized the woman as Sinestra, a minor wizard married to one of the Belajoon brothers. The family was a well-established wizard line, and they held considerable wealth and respect in the king's city. What would prompt a pampered young wife to thievery?

More curious than angry, Basel released the holding spell with a flick of one hand.

The woman exploded into action, throwing herself at the talisman in Basel's hand. "Give it to me! It's mine!"

He deftly sidestepped, and the intruder tripped and fell facedown on Tzigone's cot. Her muffled oath was both pungent and familiar. Basel had heard it from Tzigone, and from her mother before her.

His heart skipped a beat. "Who are you?" he breathed.

She sat up and tossed a pinch of powder into the air over her head. The sparkling bits caught and hung in the air, then melted together to form a thin, shimmering sheet. This floated down, molded itself to her, and disappeared-leaving a very different woman in her place.

Her features were not as delicate as Basel remembered them, and time had dimmed her eyes and blurred the lines of her face.

Basel stared in disbelief at the faded image of a woman he'd thought long dead. Although he'd mourned her for over a dozen years, his heart did not respond to her with joy.

"Keturah?" he said, not quite believing it "That's what we wanted them to think, wasn't it?" Memory flooded back. "Of course! You're Keturah's friend, the lady who helped her escape a near capture!"

"Friend, yes," the woman said. Her lips twitched into a brief and bitter smile. "Lady, no."

An old story came back to him. Shortly after her marriage to Dhamari, Keturah had traveled to Basel's home city of Halar in the company of an Exchelsor merchant band. One of the hired swords had laid rough hands on her-and lost them up to the elbows to her defensive magic. Her indignation grew when the caravan master explained that the mercenary had mistaken her for the camp doxie. A few words with the woman convinced Keturah that the «doxie» had not chosen this life. She had insisted that the woman be released in her care, and she had given her employment in her tower, and quietly trained the woman's magical gifts.

"A courtesan can still be a lady, regardless of the circumstances of her birth or her profession," Basel pointed out.

"Courtesan!" she scoffed. "That's still putting it too high! My mother could claim that title. She was a wizard's mistress. Guess what that makes me?"

"Illegitimate or not, if you know your father's name and lineage, you are guaranteed certain rights and a wizard's training."

"Oh, I know the name, but he was married into a powerful family and didn't wish to embarrass them. So I was sent away. I was handed over to a merchant's company as a sort of movable entertainment."

The enormity of this revelation stunned Basel into silence.

Any words that came to mind only trivialized such betrayal.

After a moment Sinestra shrugged. "An old tale, badly told. Whatever you're going to do to me, get on with it."

"All I require from you is an explanation. Why did you come here looking for Keturah's talisman?"

"I didn't. I came looking for your apprentice."

Basel studied the woman. She was already reverting to her enchanted appearance: her hair was darkening to black, and her skin was no longer sallow but golden and smooth. He had worked on such cloaking spells before. "If I'm not mistaken, the spell you wear is Keturah's."

"I don't have that much talent," she agreed. "It's a permanent spell. Nothing will touch it but the powder Keturah gave me, and you can bet I don't use that very often! The medallion was mine, though, in a manner of speaking. I bought it for Keturah. She was a good friend and a generous mistress. I kept every coin she gave me toward the day when I could repay her."

Something in her tone set off warnings in Basel's mind. "Why did you think that would be necessary?"

Sinestra's face-now fully reverted to its young and beautiful form-twisted with frustration. "I can't tell you."

"I see," mused Basel. "Perhaps you can tell me what you wanted with Keturah's talisman?"

"There are many kinds of slavery," she said shortly. "Some cages have golden bars, but at the end of the day there's little difference between gold and iron. How well do you know my husband?"

"Not very."

"Count yourself lucky. With this talisman, maybe I could win free of his prying eyes. It would be wonderful to have an hour or two to call entirely my own."

"Or perhaps to reinvent yourself and start a new life elsewhere, as you have done before."

"Perhaps," she said noncommittally.

"You assumed that Tzigone would have this talisman?"

"Why would I do that?" she asked, her arched brows pulled down in genuine puzzlement. "After Keturah's capture, her effects were taken to Dhamari Exchelsor. I planned to steal it from him, and I hired Tzigone-" She broke off abruptly, and bit her lip in obvious consternation.

"Take ease. I already know that Tzigone's methods lie slightly south of legal. Go on. You hired a thief to get the talisman for you."

"What do you take me for? I've known several different prisons, and I won't be responsible for sending anyone else there," she said grimly. "I hired Tzigone to train me, so I could go after it myself."

Basel nodded, satisfied. This woman had risked her life for Keturah. She was exactly the sort of friend and ally Tzigone needed. "But obviously, Dhamari Exchelsor did not have the talisman. He returned it to Keturah's daughter."