The Floodgate

He glanced at the sleeping jordain. "I'll see Themo to the temple for healing, then I should report to the palace."

"But?" she demanded, picking up the hesitation in his voice.

"Perhaps I should bring news of this attack to Procopio Septus."

"Old Snow Hawk? Why?"

"He has spent a considerable amount of time studying the Crinti. He will wish to advise the king."

Tzigone agreed, not so much because she approved of Matteo's plan but because it suited her purpose. If Matteo wasn't at the palace, he wasn't likely to catch her there.

Experience had taught her to be wary of anything or anyone whose life Kiva touched. It was time to get a look at Queen Beatrix for herself.

Dhamari Exchelsor groaned and lifted one hand to his aching temples. He remembered the twice-cast spell, but that simple overexertion couldn't account for his throbbing head, or for the egg-sized lump he felt just under his hairline. Then he remembered-his own men had carried him aboard Basel Indoulur's skyship and thrown him into this wooden bunk. His own men!

His eyes focused and set upon Basel Indoulur's face. The wizard leaned against the closed door of the small cabin, his arms folded and his black eyes mild. "So you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling very unimpressed by your hospitality," the wizard grunted, delicately probing his throbbing head with his fingertips.

His «host» spread his pudgy hands in a "what can I do?" gesture. "Your men are a spirited lot. Pity I couldn't have brought them aboard my skyship." Basel smiled at the relieved expression this brought to Dhamari's face, but it was not a pleasant smile. "If you wish, I will happily return you to their tender care."

"Without bothering to land the skyship, no doubt," Dhamari retorted.

The conjurer lifted one eyebrow. "I had not thought of that, but I'm most grateful for the suggestion." He abruptly pushed himself off the door and all vestiges of civility disappeared from his face. "Know this: If you ever approach Tzigone again, if you so much as speak to her, I'll take you up on that suggestion!" He slammed out of the room.

Dhamari made a rude gesture at the closed door, then took a small moonstone globe from a hidden pocket inside his robe. He turned his back to the door and hunched over the globe, muttering the spells that would summon his elf partner.

The globe swirled with copper and green lights, which quickly settled down to form Kiva's beautiful but aging visage. Dhamari painted a look of contrition on his face. "As we agreed, I taught Keturah's girl the summoning spell. She… she can cast it."

Molten fury crept into the elf's eyes as she read the truth in his hesitation. "Did she?"

"I'm afraid so. I told her it was a spell of banishment in order to trick her into learning it. But no harm was done! There was a battle, and the dark fairies fled back into their hills."

"There was a battle," Kiva repeated with dangerous calm. "Between whom?"

"Three men in jordaini garb-but it was the wizard with his skyship who frightened the fey folk off."

Kiva let out a long, wavering breath. Dhamari had seen less furious exhalations emanating from a red dragon. He suppressed a smile.

"You idiot!" she raged. "It's too soon! You may have ruined all! At least tell me that the ship belonged to Procopio Septus."

Dhamari ducked his head as if to dodge a blow. "Basel Indoulur."

The elf woman shrieked, long and shrill. "He will carry this news back to the king's city! Lord Procopio will believe I betrayed him!"

The wizard tucked that information away for future use. "What can I do to amend?"

Kiva regarded him with loathing. "You can die slowly and painfully."

"You need me!" he wailed.

"I needed your spell. Tzigone can cast it."

"We made an alliance. I swore to you by wizard-word oath!"

"So you will keep silent, or die!" Kiva raged. "I swore no such oath, but those I did speak, I repudiate. I repudiate you! You are nothing but a hindrance to me. There is nothing between us. Do you understand?"

Dhamari understood full well. There was nothing between them. He had hindered Kiva's cause. When he was questioned by magehounds-and he would be-they would confirm this. He had what he wanted, and now he would dance without paying the piper.

A false tear slipped down his cheek. "You loved me, once."

The elf's face fell slack with astonishment, then her laughter rang out, harsh and derisive. She made a sharp gesture with both hands and slammed them together before her face. The moonstone globe shattered in Dhamari's hands.

The light from the magic sphere died abruptly. Shards of moonstone spilled from the wizard's hands and rained over his lap. He turned his hands palm up and inspected them. As he anticipated, they were unharmed.

After all, the shattered moonstone was his own doing-he had coaxed Kiva's fury from her. That was a foolish thing to do, but he was well and thoroughly protected from himself.