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setting. The dishes matched. The servants were polite, and they didn't count the
silverware after they removed each course. Any one of these things would have
constituted a new level of luxury and respect. Put together, this meal was a treat
Tzigone would remember with pleasure for a very long time.
More importantly, it was the first time Matteo had actually sought her out.
Usually their meetings were irregular and entirely at her instigation-more of a
friendly ambush, really, than a meeting. Her pleasure at this invitation was so
great that it could not be marred by the sidelong glances and whispered gossip
their presence elicited. In well-mannered Halarahh-or anywhere else in Halruaa,
for that matter-jordaini simply did not consort with apprentice wizards.
For once, Matteo did not seem concerned with such niceties. As he spoke
his mind, her bright mood dimmed, but she heard him out without interrupting,
cursing, or dumping the kumquat trifle on his head-though she dearly wished to
do all of these things.
"I don't know about this," Tzigone said dubiously when at last he paused for
breath.
Matteo leaned forward. "Dhamari Exchelsor made a generous offer, one that
could change your life-one that could save your life. You should at least consider
it."
The girl shrugged. "I'll think about it. Did you get any information for
yourself?"
For a moment he looked startled. "Oh. You mean information about Kiva."
Tzigone cast her eyes skyward and moved the wine decanter closer to her
side of the table. "Obviously you've had enough of this. Remember Kiva? Yellow
eyes, green hair, black heart?"
"It seems there is little to be learned in all this city," he said with deep
frustration. "The Temple of Azuth refuses to deal with me. Zephyr and Cassia are
dead. I've sought out the few elves in the city, but none have knowledge of or
dealings with Kiva."
"Maybe you're just asking the wrong questions." Tzigone tipped the decanter
into her glass. A single golden drop fell. With a sigh of resignation, she reached
for her table knife and tucked it back into her belt, leaving, with no small regret,
the house silver still on the table. Matteo rose and came around the table to pull
out her chair for her-a proper courtesy for a jordain to show a lady wizard. A
shudder went through Tzigone at the thought.
"What is wrong?" he asked softly.
"Lady," she muttered. "Wizard."
Matteo did not require an explanation-he knew how uneasy Tzigone was
with the role she'd taken on. "Patron," he countered, bowing to her with a
pantomimed expression of abject horror.
They burst out laughing, drawing stares from the more sedate diners.
Chuckling still, they left the cool luxury of the inn for the glare of the street.
Tzigone suddenly remembered something. She stopped dead and seized his
arm. "We forgot to pay! Run!"
He looked incredulously at her for a moment, then let out a whoop of
incomprehensible laughter. Tzigone folded her arms and glared as she waited for
his mirth to subside.
Matteo wiped a tear from one eye and reached down to touch his jordain
medallion. A familiar pedantic expression settled over his face, but the rumble of
an approaching ice wagon drowned out the ensuing lecture.
As the wagon pulled level with them, the heavy canvas curtain at the rear
jerked open. Two men leaned out and seized Tzigone, jerking her up into the
covered cart.
The attack was sudden, and completely unexpected. One moment Matteo
was preparing to explain to Tzigone that jordaini seldom handled money, on the
theory that they were less likely to be corrupted by its lure. Of course, the same
reasoning kept the jordaini from forming close friendships, for fear that these
might cloud their judgment and shape their counsel.
For one heart-stopping instant, Matteo understood how this could be so. The
only thing that mattered to him at this moment was the small, fiercely struggling
girl and the two thugs who laid hands on her. He kicked into a run.
The curtain twitched aside to reveal a leering, bearded face. A third man, big
and hairy as one of the northland's barbarians, hurled a pale blue robe-identical
to the one Tzigone wore-into the street. Though all this happened within the span
of two heartbeats, Matteo noted that the robe was soaked with ominous red.
The message was clear.
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| Cytat |
Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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