JК
The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 59 из 212"As I keep repeating, she is a friend and nothing more."
"As I am trying to tell you, perhaps you care too deeply for your friends. You've already fought a magehound's wemic for Tzigone. You went to prison rather than name her as a thief, even though she stole the sword that led to your arrest and didn't bother to tell you she'd hidden it among your possessions. To protect her, you killed a wizard. A wizard, Matteo! The Disputation Table absolved you of legal wrongdoing, but have you any idea how the wizard-lords regard a jordain who kills? In the eyes of many, you're as dangerous and unpredictable as a half-feral dog."
"I know this," Matteo said quietly.
"You know a great deal, and yet knowledge does not give you wisdom! Whenever that beguiling little witch shows up, you cease thinking and merely act."
Matteo was silent for a long moment. His words, when he spoke, surprised him. "You find her beguiling?"
The older man sighed heavily. "It does not matter what I think. I am not the one who missed the purification ritual."
Matteo was unlikely to forget this particular disgrace, though he wasn't certain why Iago brought it up in the current context. "I will remember," he promised.
Iago was not yet finished. "We've all learned the tales of impossible quests and tragic passions. Only heroes can afford such things, Matteo. We are not heroes. We are counselors."
The young man shook his head in bewilderment. "I know what I am."
"I hope so, Matteo," he said softly, his black eyes fixed upon the rapidly approaching docks.
They did not speak again, except for a strained recitation of ritual parting words as they left the ship and went their own ways.
Night enfolded the city as Matteo worked his way through the teeming dock area and out onto the broad, tree-lined streets of Halarahh. Magical lanterns winked alight as he set a brisk pace toward the palace.
His thoughts turned to Queen Beatrix. He did not know the exact nature of the steward's concern, but he could think of several possibilities. He owed his position to the death of his predecessor. The queen's former counselor had been slain by one of her clockwork devices.
This had long puzzled Matteo. No one at the palace ever spoke of this accident. Nor had the jordain's death been discussed at the College. Matteo had still been a student at the time, and certainly would have heard the stories. Was it possible that a man's death could be held in such strict secrecy and without consequence to those at fault? Halruaa was a land of law.
"As I am trying to tell you, perhaps you care too deeply for your friends. You've already fought a magehound's wemic for Tzigone. You went to prison rather than name her as a thief, even though she stole the sword that led to your arrest and didn't bother to tell you she'd hidden it among your possessions. To protect her, you killed a wizard. A wizard, Matteo! The Disputation Table absolved you of legal wrongdoing, but have you any idea how the wizard-lords regard a jordain who kills? In the eyes of many, you're as dangerous and unpredictable as a half-feral dog."
"I know this," Matteo said quietly.
"You know a great deal, and yet knowledge does not give you wisdom! Whenever that beguiling little witch shows up, you cease thinking and merely act."
Matteo was silent for a long moment. His words, when he spoke, surprised him. "You find her beguiling?"
The older man sighed heavily. "It does not matter what I think. I am not the one who missed the purification ritual."
Matteo was unlikely to forget this particular disgrace, though he wasn't certain why Iago brought it up in the current context. "I will remember," he promised.
Iago was not yet finished. "We've all learned the tales of impossible quests and tragic passions. Only heroes can afford such things, Matteo. We are not heroes. We are counselors."
The young man shook his head in bewilderment. "I know what I am."
"I hope so, Matteo," he said softly, his black eyes fixed upon the rapidly approaching docks.
They did not speak again, except for a strained recitation of ritual parting words as they left the ship and went their own ways.
Night enfolded the city as Matteo worked his way through the teeming dock area and out onto the broad, tree-lined streets of Halarahh. Magical lanterns winked alight as he set a brisk pace toward the palace.
His thoughts turned to Queen Beatrix. He did not know the exact nature of the steward's concern, but he could think of several possibilities. He owed his position to the death of his predecessor. The queen's former counselor had been slain by one of her clockwork devices.
This had long puzzled Matteo. No one at the palace ever spoke of this accident. Nor had the jordain's death been discussed at the College. Matteo had still been a student at the time, and certainly would have heard the stories. Was it possible that a man's death could be held in such strict secrecy and without consequence to those at fault? Halruaa was a land of law.