JК
The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 60 из 212Surely even the queen was not above its rule!
Yet as far as Matteo could tell, no steps had been taken to curb the queen's strange and dangerous pastime.
Many things about his royal patron troubled him, not the least of which was the strange song he had overheard her sing at their last meeting. For a brief moment, the queen had reminded him of Tzigone.
Yet the voice was not the same, nor was there any physical resemblance between the queen and his friend. Surely he was seeing ghosts in a house not haunted! He had promised Tzigone to help her find her mother, and of course he would search for Tzigone's face in that of every woman he met. It didn't help matters that Tzigone, with her uncanny knack for imitation and her mobile, expressive features, could change herself at will. No doubt she could resemble half the women in Halruaa!
He absently dodged a pair of giggling lovers who staggered out of an alehouse, supporting each other as they wove down the street. As Matteo passed the narrow alley that ran behind the tavern, a small figure stirred amid the shadows, and a very grubby face turned to watch him pass.
The jordain walked on, aware of the soft pad of footsteps behind him. He was not entirely surprised to sense a furtive touch on the hilt of his silver dagger.
Matteo reached back and seized the fragile wrist. He spun toward the thief, twisting the lad's arm and spinning him about so that his back was to Matteo and his captured wrist held high behind his back. Matteo pushed his captive back toward the privacy of the alley. All this he did quickly, with as little sound and movement as possible. The laws of the land dealt harshly with thieves.
The lad seemed to realize this. He went along quietly, no doubt hoping to escape once they were well away from prying eyes.
Matteo marched the boy behind a pile of crates. "You've nothing to fear from me," he said softly. "Thievery suggests great need. If this is so, speak plainly. I will keep your confidence, and do what I can to help you."
"Well, since you offered, there's an itch between my shoulder blades that I just can't seem to reach," suggested a familiar voice, a rich alto that bubbled with suppressed mirth.
A familiar jangle of emotion sang through Matteo-amusement, affection, exasperation, and the mingled chagrin and delight he'd felt as a lad when he fell victim to one of Andris's pranks.
"Tzigone," Matteo muttered. He released the "urchin," who whirled to face him.
Even now that he knew her, Matteo had difficulty seeing his friend under her disguise.
Yet as far as Matteo could tell, no steps had been taken to curb the queen's strange and dangerous pastime.
Many things about his royal patron troubled him, not the least of which was the strange song he had overheard her sing at their last meeting. For a brief moment, the queen had reminded him of Tzigone.
Yet the voice was not the same, nor was there any physical resemblance between the queen and his friend. Surely he was seeing ghosts in a house not haunted! He had promised Tzigone to help her find her mother, and of course he would search for Tzigone's face in that of every woman he met. It didn't help matters that Tzigone, with her uncanny knack for imitation and her mobile, expressive features, could change herself at will. No doubt she could resemble half the women in Halruaa!
He absently dodged a pair of giggling lovers who staggered out of an alehouse, supporting each other as they wove down the street. As Matteo passed the narrow alley that ran behind the tavern, a small figure stirred amid the shadows, and a very grubby face turned to watch him pass.
The jordain walked on, aware of the soft pad of footsteps behind him. He was not entirely surprised to sense a furtive touch on the hilt of his silver dagger.
Matteo reached back and seized the fragile wrist. He spun toward the thief, twisting the lad's arm and spinning him about so that his back was to Matteo and his captured wrist held high behind his back. Matteo pushed his captive back toward the privacy of the alley. All this he did quickly, with as little sound and movement as possible. The laws of the land dealt harshly with thieves.
The lad seemed to realize this. He went along quietly, no doubt hoping to escape once they were well away from prying eyes.
Matteo marched the boy behind a pile of crates. "You've nothing to fear from me," he said softly. "Thievery suggests great need. If this is so, speak plainly. I will keep your confidence, and do what I can to help you."
"Well, since you offered, there's an itch between my shoulder blades that I just can't seem to reach," suggested a familiar voice, a rich alto that bubbled with suppressed mirth.
A familiar jangle of emotion sang through Matteo-amusement, affection, exasperation, and the mingled chagrin and delight he'd felt as a lad when he fell victim to one of Andris's pranks.
"Tzigone," Matteo muttered. He released the "urchin," who whirled to face him.
Even now that he knew her, Matteo had difficulty seeing his friend under her disguise.