The Floodgate   ::   Каннингем Элейн

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.