JК
The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 180 из 216What the woman never knew," Tzigone said in a tight, angry voice, "was that she was taking potions that twisted the natural course of her magic and that of the child she would bear. All of the power that might have become magic was refocused, so that her child might have great talents of mind and body."
The words seemed too fantastic for belief. "Is this one of your stories?" he asked tentatively.
Tzigone focused her eyes on his and let him judge what he saw in them.
"The magic wasn't just taken from the potential child, but from the mother. Little by little, her gift dwindled away, retreating to a place within herself that she could no longer reach.
"When the child was born, the process was complete. The birth was difficult, as such births invariably are, and the midwife pronounced that the woman would never bear another child. At one blow, the woman lost her babe, her dream of a child to keep, and all of herself that was bound up in her magic. This proves too much for most women to bear. They become as the woman you see before you."
Matteo absorbed this in silence. He didn't doubt Tzigone's words. Grim though this explanation was, it did explain why the jordaini were usually stronger in body and mind than the average man, and why their resistance to magic was so strong. But such a price to pay!
He tried to picture the woman who had paid this price for him and the man who had let her do so unwittingly. But it was too strange, too unreal, for him to grasp.
"Have you nothing to say?" Tzigone demanded. "Do you understand now why I wonder what became of my mother in this land of magic and wizards?"
She fairly spat out the last word with undisguised venom. Matteo had been raised to serve wizards, but he didn't find her reaction at all extreme.
"All my life," he said slowly, "I have been charged with developing the strength of mind and body. The passions of man were studied as important strategic considerations, but we were not encouraged to explore or experience any of them."
Tzigone gave him a strange look. "You had friends, surely."
"Yes. But even the closest of these had the careless ease of proximity-or so I thought," he said painfully. "My dearest friend, a jordain named Andris, was condemned by a magehound and slain by the wemic who pursued you the very day we met."
"Ah." Tzigone nodded, as if a long-held question had been answered.
"The grief and guilt that followed my friend's death was my undoing. I acted in a manner that denied all my training. Emotions, it seems, have great power."
He fell silent for a moment, then added, "This is new to me, and I don't know where it will lead.
The words seemed too fantastic for belief. "Is this one of your stories?" he asked tentatively.
Tzigone focused her eyes on his and let him judge what he saw in them.
"The magic wasn't just taken from the potential child, but from the mother. Little by little, her gift dwindled away, retreating to a place within herself that she could no longer reach.
"When the child was born, the process was complete. The birth was difficult, as such births invariably are, and the midwife pronounced that the woman would never bear another child. At one blow, the woman lost her babe, her dream of a child to keep, and all of herself that was bound up in her magic. This proves too much for most women to bear. They become as the woman you see before you."
Matteo absorbed this in silence. He didn't doubt Tzigone's words. Grim though this explanation was, it did explain why the jordaini were usually stronger in body and mind than the average man, and why their resistance to magic was so strong. But such a price to pay!
He tried to picture the woman who had paid this price for him and the man who had let her do so unwittingly. But it was too strange, too unreal, for him to grasp.
"Have you nothing to say?" Tzigone demanded. "Do you understand now why I wonder what became of my mother in this land of magic and wizards?"
She fairly spat out the last word with undisguised venom. Matteo had been raised to serve wizards, but he didn't find her reaction at all extreme.
"All my life," he said slowly, "I have been charged with developing the strength of mind and body. The passions of man were studied as important strategic considerations, but we were not encouraged to explore or experience any of them."
Tzigone gave him a strange look. "You had friends, surely."
"Yes. But even the closest of these had the careless ease of proximity-or so I thought," he said painfully. "My dearest friend, a jordain named Andris, was condemned by a magehound and slain by the wemic who pursued you the very day we met."
"Ah." Tzigone nodded, as if a long-held question had been answered.
"The grief and guilt that followed my friend's death was my undoing. I acted in a manner that denied all my training. Emotions, it seems, have great power."
He fell silent for a moment, then added, "This is new to me, and I don't know where it will lead.