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The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 129 из 212"
She shrugged and pulled her chemise back into place. "Your loss." With a grin, she preened a bit at her hair and then ran a hand down the length of her body. "If you doubt that, just ask any other jordain in the city about me."
Her boast troubled him greatly as he hurried toward Procopio Septus's villa. It was wrong to impose this rite upon unwitting young men, but that did not give them license to behave irresponsibly. As he had told the girl, actions had consequences. Even if a child could not result, a man and woman could not lie together and leave their shared bed unchanged. Families could be made in many ways, and no jordain could afford to put anything before his duty to Halruaa and her wizards.
Yet Matteo thought of his friend Themo. He always time to show the jordaini lads a new game or to practice weaponry with them. He was also known to speak wistfully of a certain barmaid in Khaerbaal-not like the lewd soldiers who lusted after women in general. Matteo could see Themo serving as a battle wizard's jordain, but also taking up the sword to fight once his advice was given. At battle's end, he might return to a merry wife and a family of boisterous children. Such a life would be a better match for Themo than his own shadow, but it would never be his. He would not know this until it was too late.
Why had Matteo been spared this ritual? Delayed in Khaerbaal by his dealings with Kiva, he'd arrived at the college a day late and was hurried away and out of sight. He was left ignorant of this omission, which was nearly as distressing as the rite itself.
The walls of Procopio's villa loomed before Matteo suddenly. He glanced at the sun. He was early-at this time of day, Procopio usually held council with other city Elders. He chatted briefly with the gatekeeper, then hurried to the long, low building that housed the wizard's steeds. There he found Iago grooming a pegasus foal, painstakingly smoothing the pure white coat.
The jordain glanced up when Matteo approached. His face lit up. "The queen has consented?"
"I have not yet had opportunity to ask her," Matteo said slowly. "Queen Beatrix has not granted me an audience for several days now, but it will be no problem to convince her that she needs your services. For the moment, though, you do not look too unhappy in Lord Procopio's service."
Iago glanced up and down the row of stalls, checking for listening ears. "You were right about Procopio's ambitions. You know, of course, that he intends to be king after Zalathorm."
"Procopio always spoke freely before his counselors," Matteo replied carefully. "The king has not named a successor.
She shrugged and pulled her chemise back into place. "Your loss." With a grin, she preened a bit at her hair and then ran a hand down the length of her body. "If you doubt that, just ask any other jordain in the city about me."
Her boast troubled him greatly as he hurried toward Procopio Septus's villa. It was wrong to impose this rite upon unwitting young men, but that did not give them license to behave irresponsibly. As he had told the girl, actions had consequences. Even if a child could not result, a man and woman could not lie together and leave their shared bed unchanged. Families could be made in many ways, and no jordain could afford to put anything before his duty to Halruaa and her wizards.
Yet Matteo thought of his friend Themo. He always time to show the jordaini lads a new game or to practice weaponry with them. He was also known to speak wistfully of a certain barmaid in Khaerbaal-not like the lewd soldiers who lusted after women in general. Matteo could see Themo serving as a battle wizard's jordain, but also taking up the sword to fight once his advice was given. At battle's end, he might return to a merry wife and a family of boisterous children. Such a life would be a better match for Themo than his own shadow, but it would never be his. He would not know this until it was too late.
Why had Matteo been spared this ritual? Delayed in Khaerbaal by his dealings with Kiva, he'd arrived at the college a day late and was hurried away and out of sight. He was left ignorant of this omission, which was nearly as distressing as the rite itself.
The walls of Procopio's villa loomed before Matteo suddenly. He glanced at the sun. He was early-at this time of day, Procopio usually held council with other city Elders. He chatted briefly with the gatekeeper, then hurried to the long, low building that housed the wizard's steeds. There he found Iago grooming a pegasus foal, painstakingly smoothing the pure white coat.
The jordain glanced up when Matteo approached. His face lit up. "The queen has consented?"
"I have not yet had opportunity to ask her," Matteo said slowly. "Queen Beatrix has not granted me an audience for several days now, but it will be no problem to convince her that she needs your services. For the moment, though, you do not look too unhappy in Lord Procopio's service."
Iago glanced up and down the row of stalls, checking for listening ears. "You were right about Procopio's ambitions. You know, of course, that he intends to be king after Zalathorm."
"Procopio always spoke freely before his counselors," Matteo replied carefully. "The king has not named a successor.