Элейн Каннингем - The Magehound

She found a small room off the workshop filled with scrolls and volumes. With a small cry of delight, she settled down to read. These were not the Cabal records-the script was Halruaan, not the unique Southern Magic runes developed to protect the land's magical secrets. But they were interesting nonetheless.

The hours slipped by as she searched, but none of the names listed in the elaborate genealogies jogged her memory. Tzigone didn't remember her own name, much less her mother's. She doubted that she ever heard her father's name spoken. She found very little that would help her, but there was some very interesting information about Matteo and his fellow jordaini.

"Here now, what are you doing here?" demanded a dry and indignant voice.

Tzigone started and looked up. A wisp of a man regarded her peevishly. He was not much older than she, but his hair was the color of dust and his frame was as insubstantial as a reed. Chances were she could burst right past him. But her chances of dashing out of the palace without being stopped were considerably less likely.

"Oh, good," she said with feigned relief. "I was hoping that a scribe would happen by. You are a scribe, aren't you?"

The man frowned in puzzlement. "Yes, of course. But what need would a jordain have of my services? You do not send or carry written messages."

Tzigone realized her misstep. "I'm sure I don't know," she said sullenly. "Matteo told me to have some spells copied out, and he also wants a shopping list of the required components. I can only assume they're for the queen."

The scribe's look of suspicion deepened. "It has been quite some years since the queen requested either spells or components."

"Well, it's been a while since she went out on a picnic, hasn't it?" retorted Tzigone.

This logic silenced the scribe for a moment. "You don't look familiar," he said, eyeing her intently. "I keep the household accounts. You are not of this house."

"No," she agreed. "I'm Matteo's friend. He sort of invited me here."

"How unfortunate for him," said a resonant alto voice at the door.

The scribe spun to face the king's counselor. "Lady Cassia! It is a most unexpected honor to see you in this place!"

Something in the scribe's voice made Tzigone suspect that the female jordain was not only unexpected but unwelcome. Apparently Tzigone wasn't the only person to take advantage of the queen's absence.

But Cassia gave away nothing. "An intruder was reported in the halls. I came myself to see how diligently the queen's servants tended their mistress's affairs." She glanced at Tzigone. "In all truth, I am not impressed."

The scribe paled. "I was about to call the guard and have this boy removed."

"A good thought," Cassia said. "Do not let me hinder you. If it's all the same to you, I think I should stay until the guard arrives."

He hastened into the next room, and in moments a tinny clockwork alarm began to sound. Tzigone heard the clatter of approaching footsteps and willed herself not to panic. Her first instinct was to bolt, but there was nowhere to go. The room had no windows and only one door, and that was barred by the imposing form of the king's counselor.

Tzigone didn't dare try her hand there. She was quick on her feet and could throw a decent punch when called upon to do so, but Cassia was a trained, well-armed fighter.

The woman looked up as the first two guards hurried forward. "Take this 'boy' to the tower and then go fetch Matteo."

The two men exchanged uneasy glances. "But he attends the queen. We cannot command him away from her side, lady, not even by your word."

"You can if her safety is threatened by his presence," Cassia returned coldly. "I have reason to suspect both Matteo's veracity and his devotion to his order. This thief wears the jordaini vestment and pendant of the queen's counselor. Pretending to be a jordain is a serious matter-a deadly one, if she is found to have any magic. Any man who would consort with such street trash is suspect, but it appears that Matteo has actually brought this thief into the palace. Perhaps I am wrong about him, I hope so. But a magehound will examine them both and decide the matter. See to it!"

The guards flanked Tzigone and hauled her out of the chair. Her first response was to blind them with a quick fireball and then run like a rat. But using magic would ensure her death if she were caught. She tamely submitted to the guards, but her mind raced as she devised ways out of this mess.

Not much more than an hour or two passed before the door to her cell opened. Matteo stepped in. His gaze skimmed her attire and then clouded with resignation.

"My medallion, I suppose?"

She took it off and handed it to him. "You're welcome to it. It's caused me nothing but trouble."

Matteo sighed and put the chain around his neck, adjusting the medallion into place. "What have you done this time, Tzigone?"

"Oh, I like that," she retorted. "All the scrapes I've gotten you out of, and that's the thanks I get?"

"The story," he prompted. "Unadorned, if possible."

She took a deep breath. "I am secretly a member of the Jordaini Council. In the guise of a clever street waif, I protect the rights of any jordain targeted by treachery or jealousy. Currently I am following you to ensure that Frando does not attempt to place you in damning circumstances."

Matteo folded his arms. "Really."

"And it's a good thing I did! Are you aware that a pair of nubile Amnian twins are being smuggled into your bedchamber even as we speak? And that they are clad in the queen's gowns, and wearing wigs and face paint so that they both resemble Beatrix? Frando plans to accuse you not only of depravity, but of theft of the queen's property and treachery against the king. I suppose that would be treachery by proxy, since the twins are not actually Beatrix," she mused. "The niceties of Halruaan law escape me."

"Indeed," the jordain said dryly. "That's an ingenious plot, considering how little time Frando had to conceive it. He must have more talent than either you or I credited him with."

"Who knew?" she marveled.

Matteo sighed. "Tzigone, why do you insist upon telling such outrageous tales?"

"It keeps me in practice," she said with a shrug, then patted the wooden bench. "You might as well have a seat. We could be here for a while."

"Until the magehound is summoned," he said grimly. "Do you realize how serious this situation is?"

She met his eyes. "All my life I have been pursued by wizards and magehounds," she said quietly. "Once before I was caught. I escaped, but not before I learned exactly how serious the situation can be. Here's a tall tale you can believe: If I don't get out, I'm dead."

Matteo nodded slowly. "Then you are a wizard after all."

"Must you keep singing that dreary tune?" she snapped. "I told you, I'm no wizard. I have never been trained, I have never gone to any of the schools, I have not even been tested for gifts."

Matteo suspected that this was true, as far as it went. He sat down beside her. "I believe that you will be slain if the law gets hold of you. But I suspect that theft is the least of your crimes."

"Compare my situation to yours," she suggested. "I've been a street entertainer, making my way by doing tricks that supposedly had nothing to do with magic. If fraud is proved, there's a price to pay. Same as with the jordaini."

He thought of Andris and of the price that had been exacted from his friend. He couldn't stand quietly by while that happened again. After a moment he looked up and let Tzigone see the resolve in his eyes.

The girl nodded and then began to plot. Matteo could almost see the gears working behind her eyes, as if she were one of the queen's clockwork creatures.

"I want you to stand over there in the far corner, where the shadows are deepest. Put your white cloak over your shoulders. Turn your back to the door, so that the first thing someone sees is a faceless jordain. You're not much taller than Cassia. It might work."