The Floodgate

The image of Tzigone, her urchin's grin replaced by a prim smile and her eyes demure under a maiden's veil, was so ludicrous that Matteo burst out laughing.

"That has never entered my mind, and I would wager a queen's dowry that it never entered hers! Tzigone is a friend, nothing more."

Andris looked unaccountably relieved. "She will be a wizard one day. The jordaini are supposed to serve Halruaa's wizards, not befriend them."

A young student jogged toward them, saving Matteo from acknowledging this disturbing truth. The boy's gaze touched upon Andris and slid away.

"Andris has permission to depart the college," he announced, "and the headmaster wishes to see Matteo."

"I'll come directly," Matteo assured the boy. He waited until the messenger was beyond earshot before continuing. "It's unfortunate the college's wizards couldn't test you, and save you the trip north."

Andris grimaced. "One of the hazards of being a jordain. Only the magehounds' magic has much effect on us. An important safeguard, of course."

Matteo did not comment on the obvious irony: Andris had been condemned as a rogue jordain-falsely condemned-by a magehound from the Azuthan order. Once again, his life was in their hands.

He could not leave his friend to face this ordeal alone. "When do you leave?"

Andris turned away and began to collect his gear. "Tomorrow morning will be soon enough."

"I'll ride with you." When Andris glanced back inquiringly, Matteo added, "When Kiva revives, I have questions for her that I'd rather not entrust to a magehound."

"A compelling argument." Andris rose and placed a translucent hand on Matteo's shoulder. "You'd better see what the headmaster wants. The rest will wait patiently until tomorrow; Ferris Grail will not"

Matteo snickered at his friend's all-too-apt jest, then set a brisk pace for the headmaster's tower.

The ghostly jordain watched him go. With a sigh, he shouldered his gear and walked across the blazing soil to the guest quarters. It seemed odd to be a guest in the only home he'd ever known. On the other hand, after just a few months away, his life at the Jordaini College seemed like a distant dream.

Andris was not looking forward to the coming inquisition, but despite his experience with Kiva, he did not believe all magehounds were false and corrupt. No doubt the Azuthans had vigorously scoured their ranks in the aftermath of Kiva's treachery. The inquisition would not be pleasant, but it would end. And then what? A return to the jordaini order? Service to a wizard too insignificant to sneer at the jordain's translucent form and dubious fame?

An image came unbidden to mind: Kiva's rapt and joyous face as she shattered the crystal globe retrieved from the Kilmaruu Swamp, freeing the spirits of long-dead elves trapped by the evil Akhlaur.

That image, Andris decided, mattered.

He had followed Kiva at first because he had believed she spoke for King Zalathorm. That fancy swiftly faded, but other reasons followed, reasons powerful enough to keep him at the elf woman's side.

According to everything Andris knew and believed, according to the laws of the land and the decree of the Council of Elders, Kiva was a traitor to Halruaa. Was it possible that she followed some deeper, hidden truth? Was her cause worthy, even if the pathways she took toward it were sometimes twisted and dark?

Deep in thought, Andris pushed open the door to the guest chamber. He was greeted by a raucous little squawk and the flutter of bright wings.

His lips curved as he noted the parrot perched on the windowsill. No bigger than Andris's fist, it was feathered in an almost floral pattern of pink and yellow. The bird stood tamely as the jordain edged forward. Its bright head tipped to one side, lending it a curious mien.

"Greetings, little fellow," Andris said. "I suppose you're a wandering pet. Congratulations on your escape. Never will I understand the impulse to cage birds for the sake of their songs!"

"I quite agree," the bird said in a clear, approving tone. "Fortunately, this enlightened opinion seems to be common hereabouts. I come and go as I like."

Andris fell back a step. Many of Halruaa's birds could chatter like small, feathered echoes. Even sentient birds were not all that rare. He'd just never expected anyone at the Jordaini College might keep such a retainer.

"This is an unexpected pleasure, my small friend. Might I ask what brings you here?"

The bird sidled several steps closer. Its head craned this way and that, as if to reassure itself that no one might over-hear. "A message."

"A message? From whom?"

"Just read the books."

"The books?" Andris said blankly.

Pink and yellow wings rustled impatiently. "Hidden under the mattress. Read them, put them back."

The bird was gone. It didn't fly away; it was simply… gone.