The Magehound

"The magic wasn't just taken from the potential child, but from the mother. Little by little, her gift dwindled away, retreating to a place within herself that she could no longer reach.

"When the child was born, the process was complete. The birth was difficult, as such births invariably are, and the midwife pronounced that the woman would never bear another child. At one blow, the woman lost her babe, her dream of a child to keep, and all of herself that was bound up in her magic. This proves too much for most women to bear. They become as the woman you see before you."

Matteo absorbed this in silence. He didn't doubt Tzigone's words. Grim though this explanation was, it did explain why the jordaini were usually stronger in body and mind than the average man, and why their resistance to magic was so strong. But such a price to pay!

He tried to picture the woman who had paid this price for him and the man who had let her do so unwittingly. But it was too strange, too unreal, for him to grasp.

"Have you nothing to say?" Tzigone demanded. "Do you understand now why I wonder what became of my mother in this land of magic and wizards?"

She fairly spat out the last word with undisguised venom. Matteo had been raised to serve wizards, but he didn't find her reaction at all extreme.

"All my life," he said slowly, "I have been charged with developing the strength of mind and body. The passions of man were studied as important strategic considerations, but we were not encouraged to explore or experience any of them."

Tzigone gave him a strange look. "You had friends, surely."

"Yes. But even the closest of these had the careless ease of proximity-or so I thought," he said painfully. "My dearest friend, a jordain named Andris, was condemned by a magehound and slain by the wemic who pursued you the very day we met."

"Ah." Tzigone nodded, as if a long-held question had been answered.

"The grief and guilt that followed my friend's death was my undoing. I acted in a manner that denied all my training. Emotions, it seems, have great power."

He fell silent for a moment, then added, "This is new to me, and I don't know where it will lead. I should feel outrage, but I do not. I cannot mourn a woman I never knew. I cannot hate a man I never met. Perhaps that will change. If it does, I'm not sure what I will do."

"Even in this you're honest," she said softly, her eyes searching his face. "Maybe that's not always such a bad thing."

They quietly left the cottage, each deep in thought. Tzigone had come to this place intending to tell Matteo the truth: This was the woman who had given him birth. But as Matteo had pointed out, there was no telling what he might do once he got into the habit of allowing emotion into his life. Most likely he would declare vengeance upon the wizard who had sired him. That could lead nowhere good.

Matteo spoke first. "This is why jordaini have no families, is it not?"

"Magic is toxic," Tzigone said grimly. "Apparently it isn't easy to breed magic out of a human, and there is no telling what will come of the effort."

"Precaution is the grandchild of disaster," Matteo said softly, speaking an old proverb. "For such measures to be taken, things must have gone terribly wrong."

"Mistakes happen," Tzigone agreed. She took a long, steadying breath. "I suppose that's the only possible way to explain me."

Chapter Seventeen

Tzigone braced herself for the jordain's questions. To her surprise, she realized that she was prepared to tell him everything she knew about herself and her background, secrets that she had spoken to no one. Matteo had never been less than honest with her. That honesty created a debt, and she always paid her debts.

But Matteo didn't immediately respond to her grim pronouncement. Instead, he took a small tightly rolled scroll from his bag and handed it to her.

She took it and smoothed it flat. The message was brief, and after a moment, she lifted incredulous eyes to his face. "Reads like a death warrant," she said, only partially in jest.

"That was my assessment," he agreed.

Much as she would have liked to, Tzigone couldn't argue. Cassia, the high counselor to King Zalathorm and one of the most powerful jordaini in the land, had enlisted the help of all members of the jordaini order to find information on the whereabouts and background of a thief known as Tzigone.

A strange knot formed in the girl's throat. Matteo had helped her to escape in direct defiance of the rules of his order. For a moment, even Tzigone's nimble tongue seemed weighted down by the enormity of this revelation.

"I thought the jordaini didn't write and send messages," she managed at last

Matteo's faint smile acknowledged her unspoken words. "It appears that in this case Cassia made an exception. I daresay that the jordaini weren't the only people in this city to receive her missive. No doubt it also went to the city guard, town criers, and city Elders."