The Magehound

Slowly he began to understand why this was so. He spent more time at Procopio's side than any jordain other than Zephyr, the wizard's high counselor. It didn't help matters when the old elf took upon himself the role of Matteo's mentor. Each morning after the jordaini meeting, Zephyr and Matteo spent an hour walking in the villa gardens and discussing the politics of the day.

As Zephyr had predicted, Procopio arranged several more tests of Matteo's skills and knowledge. The young jordain passed them all with ease. Riding an unbroken horse was little challenge after his experiences with Cyric. When a wizard «assassin» magically burst into Procopio's dining chamber, Matteo took a page from Tzigone's book and coolly deflected the sun arrows with the mirrorlike finish of a bronze plate. Procopio had howled with laughter at the sight of his hired wizard rolling on the floor in agony, and he'd sent Dranklish, the jordain who before Matteo's arrival had been second in rank to Zephyr, like an errand boy to fetch a cleric of Mystra to heal the unfortunate man. It was that event that cemented Matteo's position in the household, for it became clear to everyone that the new jordain was being groomed as Zephyr's successor. The tests ended, and so did Matteo's hope of finding friends among the household's jordaini.

His days were busy, but from time to time an image edged into his thoughts: a small, pointed face with big brown eyes and an irreverent grin. He didn't expect to see Tzigone again. Her last words to him indicated that she believed she had discharged her mysterious debt. Matteo didn't understand what exactly she thought she had done, and he wished, more than once, that he could have the opportunity to ask her.

But the days quickly settled into an orderly pattern, one suited to the life of a jordain and not disrupted by the «assistance» of roguish street waifs. Each day after the skyship flight, Matteo and Procopio would retire to the wizard's study. The wizard had a passion for games of strategy, and Matteo obliged him with seemingly endless games of chess, castles, and complex card games.

One morning he answered an unexpected summons to Procopio's study to find that the wizard had acquired a new diversion. An enormous table took up half the study, displacing the large cages of birds that Procopio kept in nearly every room of the villa.

The wizard glanced up when Matteo entered, and his face lit up in an unexpectedly boyish grin. "I ordered this a year and three moons before your arrival. I'll be a necromancer's apprentice if it wasn't worth the wait! Come see."

Matteo approached his patron's side and studied the vast table. It was no ordinary piece of furniture but a wondrous recreation of a wild land: a section of high plateau surrounded by hills and mountains.

"The Nath?" guessed Matteo, naming the wild region in the northeastern corner of Halruaa.

Procopio beamed. "Well done. Wait-you've not seen the best of it."

The wizard gestured with a long, slender wand. Several drawers hidden along the edges of the table opened, and tiny, magically animated figures poured out onto the table. Halruaan soldiers marched in formation across the wild terrain toward a mountain pass. A wizard, seated cross-legged on a flying carpet, whizzed out of the drawer and began to circle over the troops. A small horde of mounted warriors burst from the foothills and charged the Halruaan forces, and the faint pounding of their hooves reminded Matteo of the sound of distant rain. They pulled up at the far end of the mountain pass and faced the Halruaans.

All of the miniature troops were marvelous, but it was these mounted figures that drew Matteo's eye. They were rendered in shades of gray. All the horses were dappled grays, and the warriors were elflike females with dusky skin and dull silvery hair.

"Shadow amazons," Matteo marveled. For as long as he could remember, he had been fascinated by the Crinti, and he longed to pick up one of the tiny figures and examine its artistry and detail.

Some of this must have shown on his face, for Procopio chuckled. "Go ahead," he urged. "They're not alive, so you needn't be afraid to handle them."

"It is not that. The jordaini are forbidden to own, use, or even knowingly handle any magical item."

The diviner frowned. "How can you possibly refrain from doing so when you are in a wizard's service? I require you to engage me in a game of military strategy. Must I refrain from magic to accommodate you? Who is the master here, and who the servant?"

This was a reasonable question, and suddenly Matteo wasn't entirely satisfied with the traditional answer. He gave it anyway.

"Jordaini are forbidden by law and tradition from handling magic or benefiting from it. This ultimately safeguards the wizards we serve."

"What of the skyships?" Procopio said slyly. "Does this mean you intend to forego your daily flight?"