The Magehound

Procopio's eyes widened. "I understood that the girl had been found and dealt with years ago."

"That is what they would have us believe. The child was caught, that much is true, and the official word was that she was too young and fragile to survive the rigors of magical inquiry. I know otherwise, and now you know as well. In his wisdom, Zalathorm does not admit to knowledge of certain things, but that does not mean his counselors should not be informed."

"Of course," Procopio murmured, his face thoughtful as he considered the uses of this information-and Cassia's likely purpose in sharing it with him.

Procopio knew that the mysterious «they» Cassia referred to were also known by another name. Halruaa's wizards ruled on many levels. A mysterious group known as the Cabal guided one of the most personal and important aspects of Halruaan life, the future of her wizards. This group kept detailed records of each wizard's heritage and skills, and matched them in marriage with wizards of compatible talents. This was one of the primary reasons why Halruaa could boast of so much magical talent and such highly specialized schools. Wizards in other, less civilized lands married for whim or fancy or political alliance, but in Halruaa, such things were never left to chance. The Cabal held enormous power, for they molded the future in directions they deemed desirable. A regrettable but necessary part of their duties was weeding out dangerous or wild talents, eliminating failed experiments, and dealing with wizards who became either inept or too ambitious.

But Procopio gave that grim reality no more than a passing thought. Membership in the mysterious Cabal was a sure path to power, and he coveted it nearly as much as he longed for Zalathorm's throne. And now here was Cassia, dropping hints and asking for him to release his most promising jordain! Zalathorm's high counselor was here to make an exchange, of that Procopio was certain. But on whose authority? Her own, or the king's? Either path was strewn with possibilities.

"I am honored that you would share these confidences with me," Procopio ventured. "If I might ask, how did you learn of Keturah and her daughter?"

"Not easily," she said dryly. "Amazing secrets sleep behind the queen's porcelain mask."

Procopio fell silent, stunned by the implied connection between the mysterious Cabal and Halruaa's queen.

Zephyr, though he himself was greatly troubled by the jordain's revelations, noted with approval that his patron did not question Cassia about Beatrix. To do so would be unwise and perhaps treasonous.

"Would I have met this young woman?" Procopio asked carefully.

"Not on purpose, that I assure you! Suffice it to say that, but for the circumstances of her birth, she is no one of consequence. What concerns us is that the wench seems quite taken with your young jordain. They were together in the market and looked to be on very good terms."

"Matteo," Procopio murmured thoughtfully, as if divining new possibilities in his newest counselor. He darted an accusing look at Zephyr, though there was no logical reason why his jordain should have known the identity of the street performer with Matteo.

Cassia paused for a long, slow smile. "You begin to see, dear Procopio, why it is wise for you to put distance between yourself and this youth. A man of your ambitions and talents would not willingly pit himself against the Cabal."

Zephyr noted the quick surge of disappointment on his patron's face. Was it possible that Procopio was actually hoping for an invitation to join this mysterious group?

The old elf studied his patron and their visitor and realized that this was so. Though it seemed beyond belief, these two people, the man he served and the jordain he was taught to honor above all others, could casually discuss the legacy of an evil that had destroyed Zephyr's people and ripped apart his life forever. The Cabal had ancient roots in a time the elf knew all too well. Yet here stood these two ignorant and short-lived humans, discussing the Cabal as if it were just another political consideration, another carved figure on one of Procopio's strategy game boards.

Wrath, deep and ancient and searing, rose from the old elf's heart.

"And what is your purpose in this, Cassia?" he demanded. "What do you hope to gain by sending Matteo to the service of the queen? Surely you are not driven by concern for Lord Procopio."

The woman's black eyes widened with shock at being addressed in such fashion, then she burst into genuine laughter. "All that I told your patron is true. But you are wise, elf, in suspecting that there is more. The diviner Xavierlyn is worming herself into the king's favor. I do not think Zalathorm would be pleased if Xavierlyn's jordain challenged the queen's counselor. The king might not be as besotted with Beatrix as he once was, but he will not look with favor at any woman who appears to contest for the queen's place."