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The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 75 из 212"Dhamari Exchelsor is a very private person. He is not a member of the Council of Elders, and he keeps to himself. I can tell you little about his thinking on this matter. After Keturah left, he petitioned the Council for a legal divorce. Even so, he sent a number of wizards and mercenaries in search of her. I stopped hearing reports of these activities after five years or so. Perhaps he accepted that Keturah was gone for good."
This tallied with Tzigone's memories. "Why did she leave?"
"That, I cannot tell you," Basel said with a shrug. "Dhamari Exchelsor might. Or even better, send someone else to talk to him, someone who can present a plausible reason for asking these questions."
Matteo could go. Any wizard would open his door to the queen's jordain. The battle of Akhlaur's Swamp would come into conversation-it always seemed to. Kiva had been behind that battle, and Kiva had also been one of the agents sent to find Keturah. Matteo could surely find a way to move the conversation from Kiva to the runaway wizard.
"That seems reasonable," she said at last.
"Which no doubt means that you will do the opposite."
This droll observation surprised a grin from her, and then a frown. "Being contrary is almost like being predictable, isn't it?"
"Yes, but only if you're consistently contrary. Do what is right from time to time," he advised. "It will astonish most people and mystify the rest."
Her laugh rang out, rich and delighted. "Good advice. I may even take it."
Basel smiled and bid her goodbye with a wave of his hand. He held his smile until the door shut behind her, then he buried his face in his hands. He thanked Lady Mystra, and then he cursed her, for the bittersweet memories the girl evoked.
"Keturah," he murmured in a voice filled with a longing that neither faded nor forgot. "I never thought to hear your name again, much less your song! But by wind and word, it echoes through your daughter's laughter!"
Tzigone shut the door to Basel Indoulur's study and leaned wearily against it. She lifted her hands, palms up. "Procopio Septus," she muttered, lowering her left hand as if she'd just placed a heavy weight in it. She spoke the name of her mother's husband, and her right hand dropped even lower. For a moment, she stood with her hands see-sawing back and forth like an indecisive scale.
Suddenly she pushed herself off the wall and hurried to Basel's scrying chamber, employing the gliding, silent gait she'd perfected in a hundred forbidden corridors. It never hurt to keep all of her skills honed to a fighting edge.
This tallied with Tzigone's memories. "Why did she leave?"
"That, I cannot tell you," Basel said with a shrug. "Dhamari Exchelsor might. Or even better, send someone else to talk to him, someone who can present a plausible reason for asking these questions."
Matteo could go. Any wizard would open his door to the queen's jordain. The battle of Akhlaur's Swamp would come into conversation-it always seemed to. Kiva had been behind that battle, and Kiva had also been one of the agents sent to find Keturah. Matteo could surely find a way to move the conversation from Kiva to the runaway wizard.
"That seems reasonable," she said at last.
"Which no doubt means that you will do the opposite."
This droll observation surprised a grin from her, and then a frown. "Being contrary is almost like being predictable, isn't it?"
"Yes, but only if you're consistently contrary. Do what is right from time to time," he advised. "It will astonish most people and mystify the rest."
Her laugh rang out, rich and delighted. "Good advice. I may even take it."
Basel smiled and bid her goodbye with a wave of his hand. He held his smile until the door shut behind her, then he buried his face in his hands. He thanked Lady Mystra, and then he cursed her, for the bittersweet memories the girl evoked.
"Keturah," he murmured in a voice filled with a longing that neither faded nor forgot. "I never thought to hear your name again, much less your song! But by wind and word, it echoes through your daughter's laughter!"
Tzigone shut the door to Basel Indoulur's study and leaned wearily against it. She lifted her hands, palms up. "Procopio Septus," she muttered, lowering her left hand as if she'd just placed a heavy weight in it. She spoke the name of her mother's husband, and her right hand dropped even lower. For a moment, she stood with her hands see-sawing back and forth like an indecisive scale.
Suddenly she pushed herself off the wall and hurried to Basel's scrying chamber, employing the gliding, silent gait she'd perfected in a hundred forbidden corridors. It never hurt to keep all of her skills honed to a fighting edge.