JК
The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 127 из 212His fleshy lower lip thrust forward in a petulant scowl. "You wanted to stop the jordain Matteo from making inquiries. This should do it."
Procopio placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "You do not 'stop' a man like Matteo by putting roadblocks in his path. If anything, you've hardened his resolve."
"So what, in your inestimable wisdom, should we do?"
The wizard smiled unpleasantly. "Distract him, then discredit him. It has worked before, albeit briefly, and I daresay that this time it might take permanent hold."
Chapter Fifteen
By the time Matteo left the city palace, his many bee stings were beginning to swell and throb. In search of a soothing salve, he set off for an apothecary shop he had passed many times during his service to Lord Procopio.
The shop was a wattle-and-daub building set in a neat garden full of herbs. Birds skittered about picking at the seeds some softhearted soul had strewn for them. A pert yellow songbird followed Matteo right up to the shop and perched on the sill of the open window, as if to listen in on the conversation.
The apothecary was a minor wizard, with plump cheeks and a near-toothless grin that made him look rather like a wizened, oversized infant. Matteo exchanged courtesies and explained what he needed.
The man scratched a list on a bit of parchment and went to the back room to fetch the supplies. Busy with his work, he did not notice the yellow bird fly in the window and settle on the rush-strewn floor.
Swift as thought, the bird transformed into its true shape: a female wizard with bold, black eyes, wearing a simple chemise and skirt of yellow linen. The bird-turned-woman picked up a crockery urn and brought it down hard on the back of the apothecary's head. He pitched forward onto the bench and slid to the floor. The woman gathered up the supplies and hurried to the front room.
"My father was called away," she told Matteo. "He bade me tend your hurts. Why, it looks as if you were rolling about in a thicket of briars!"
She continued her bright chatter as she led the way to a small room off the shop. Matteo, after an initial moment of surprise, followed her. At her bidding he sat down upon the edge of a narrow cot.
The girl sat beside him, salving the stings on his neck and arms with a deft, practiced touch. "Remove your tunic, and I'll tend to the rest of you," she suggested with a coy smile.
Matteo rose. "Thank you, but I don't think there are any more stings."
"So you say, but I'd like to see for myself."
"Nothing more is necessary.
Procopio placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "You do not 'stop' a man like Matteo by putting roadblocks in his path. If anything, you've hardened his resolve."
"So what, in your inestimable wisdom, should we do?"
The wizard smiled unpleasantly. "Distract him, then discredit him. It has worked before, albeit briefly, and I daresay that this time it might take permanent hold."
Chapter Fifteen
By the time Matteo left the city palace, his many bee stings were beginning to swell and throb. In search of a soothing salve, he set off for an apothecary shop he had passed many times during his service to Lord Procopio.
The shop was a wattle-and-daub building set in a neat garden full of herbs. Birds skittered about picking at the seeds some softhearted soul had strewn for them. A pert yellow songbird followed Matteo right up to the shop and perched on the sill of the open window, as if to listen in on the conversation.
The apothecary was a minor wizard, with plump cheeks and a near-toothless grin that made him look rather like a wizened, oversized infant. Matteo exchanged courtesies and explained what he needed.
The man scratched a list on a bit of parchment and went to the back room to fetch the supplies. Busy with his work, he did not notice the yellow bird fly in the window and settle on the rush-strewn floor.
Swift as thought, the bird transformed into its true shape: a female wizard with bold, black eyes, wearing a simple chemise and skirt of yellow linen. The bird-turned-woman picked up a crockery urn and brought it down hard on the back of the apothecary's head. He pitched forward onto the bench and slid to the floor. The woman gathered up the supplies and hurried to the front room.
"My father was called away," she told Matteo. "He bade me tend your hurts. Why, it looks as if you were rolling about in a thicket of briars!"
She continued her bright chatter as she led the way to a small room off the shop. Matteo, after an initial moment of surprise, followed her. At her bidding he sat down upon the edge of a narrow cot.
The girl sat beside him, salving the stings on his neck and arms with a deft, practiced touch. "Remove your tunic, and I'll tend to the rest of you," she suggested with a coy smile.
Matteo rose. "Thank you, but I don't think there are any more stings."
"So you say, but I'd like to see for myself."
"Nothing more is necessary.