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The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 108 из 216Matteo rose and cameto greet his colleague.
"Well, if it isn't the newest gelding in Procopio's stables," Frando said in a faintly nasty tone. "Come to listen and learn, I suppose?"
Matteo's brows lifted. For once it seemed appropriate to forego the usual polite phrases of greeting. "My patron has sent me with a message for the wizard Xavierlyn," he said curtly. "He bids me give it into your keeping."
It was a common enough task, but to his surprise, Frando hissed with exasperation. "It is clear that you don't mind playing the part of an errand boy, but I occupy my time with more important tasks. Why couldn't Procopio simply send a scroll? Or if he is as powerful a diviner as he claims to be, why not use magic?"
Matteo blinked, startled by this response. "Scrolls can be stolen, scried, or magically altered. Messengers can be waylaid, bribed, threatened, or magically influenced, or information taken from their minds. Even magically sent messages can be intercepted. There is also the possibility that a magically gifted messenger could influence the hearer, much as the minor magic of a bard lures an audience into receptivity," he explained patiently. "Any first-form jordain knows this."
Too late, Matteo realized how his words could be taken. Frando's face darkened with anger, yet he could not dispute Matteo's assessment.
"Give me the message," he said shortly.
To Matteo's surprise, the jordain did not receive the message on first hearing. Frando repeated it back with several alterations and two outright errors. Matteo patiently repeated Procopio's detailed report, once and then again, insisting that the man repeat it back precisely.
"Enough," the jordain finally said, his face crimson. "You change the words to mock me."
Matteo quickly swallowed the surge of rage that accusation brought. "I am charged with bringing a message to your patron, untainted by error or magical persuasion. Perhaps I had better repeat it to her myself." He turned away, intent upon doing just that.
Frando caught Matteo's arm and spun him around. "You would offer such insult?" he said incredulously.
"Less insult than you offered me," Matteo retorted as he jerked free of the big man's grasp. "You all but called me a liar."
"And so you are."
Impulse overtook training. Matteo's fist flashed out and connected squarely with Frando's jaw. The man staggered back and tripped over a chair. He went down heavily and came up with his hands on the hilts of his daggers.
This put Matteo in a serious quandary.
"Well, if it isn't the newest gelding in Procopio's stables," Frando said in a faintly nasty tone. "Come to listen and learn, I suppose?"
Matteo's brows lifted. For once it seemed appropriate to forego the usual polite phrases of greeting. "My patron has sent me with a message for the wizard Xavierlyn," he said curtly. "He bids me give it into your keeping."
It was a common enough task, but to his surprise, Frando hissed with exasperation. "It is clear that you don't mind playing the part of an errand boy, but I occupy my time with more important tasks. Why couldn't Procopio simply send a scroll? Or if he is as powerful a diviner as he claims to be, why not use magic?"
Matteo blinked, startled by this response. "Scrolls can be stolen, scried, or magically altered. Messengers can be waylaid, bribed, threatened, or magically influenced, or information taken from their minds. Even magically sent messages can be intercepted. There is also the possibility that a magically gifted messenger could influence the hearer, much as the minor magic of a bard lures an audience into receptivity," he explained patiently. "Any first-form jordain knows this."
Too late, Matteo realized how his words could be taken. Frando's face darkened with anger, yet he could not dispute Matteo's assessment.
"Give me the message," he said shortly.
To Matteo's surprise, the jordain did not receive the message on first hearing. Frando repeated it back with several alterations and two outright errors. Matteo patiently repeated Procopio's detailed report, once and then again, insisting that the man repeat it back precisely.
"Enough," the jordain finally said, his face crimson. "You change the words to mock me."
Matteo quickly swallowed the surge of rage that accusation brought. "I am charged with bringing a message to your patron, untainted by error or magical persuasion. Perhaps I had better repeat it to her myself." He turned away, intent upon doing just that.
Frando caught Matteo's arm and spun him around. "You would offer such insult?" he said incredulously.
"Less insult than you offered me," Matteo retorted as he jerked free of the big man's grasp. "You all but called me a liar."
"And so you are."
Impulse overtook training. Matteo's fist flashed out and connected squarely with Frando's jaw. The man staggered back and tripped over a chair. He went down heavily and came up with his hands on the hilts of his daggers.
This put Matteo in a serious quandary.