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The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 194 из 216By then Matteo felt able to walk without muchpain, and he followed her as they crept through the moss-hung trees.
She stopped him with a silent gesture and carefully parted a curtain of vines.
There, in utter silence, was a training field reminiscent of his days at the Jordaini College. Over a hundred men practiced with weapons of steel and wood and bone, yet there was no sound of impact, no grunts of exertion.
Matteo marveled to see jordaini routines practiced under a magical shroud of silence. He would have sooner expected snow in midsummer.
His gaze skimmed the crowd and came to rest on a tall auburn man. His disbelieving eyes widened, and he couldn't quite suppress a gasp of astonishment.
Tzigone sent him a quizzical look.
"That tall man," he said quietly, pointing. "He is very like my friend Andris." A terrible thought occurred to him. "Or an undead creature that was once Andris! I saw the wemic kill him the very day we met."
He spoke softly, just above a whisper, and then fell silent. But some magical ward captured his words and repeated them in an echo that thrummed through the forest.
The fighters stopped and turned toward their hiding place, weapons leveled.
But Andris's face broke into a joyful grin. He made a quick, impatient gesture, as if he were tearing aside an insect netting. "Trust your eyes, my friend," he said in a clear, carrying voice. "I'm alive and well and happier than I've ever been! Come into camp, and I'll tell you everything."
Chapter Nineteen
“It's a trap," Tzigone said flatly.
Matteo hesitated, uncertain whether to believe what his eyes told him. "Andris was my dearest friend. I can't walk away from him without a word. I'll understand if you don't wish to follow me, but I must go."
She thought this over and shrugged. Matteo stepped out into the clearing. After a moment, he heard Tzigone's light step behind him.
Andris strode to meet him, and the friends fell into a back-thumping embrace. Finally Matteo put Andris out at arms' length and regarded him. Andris had gained color from much time in the sun, as well as a bit more muscle on his lean frame.
"You're looking remarkably well for a dead man."
Genuine regret crossed the man's face. "My 'death' was a ruse to bring me to this cause. I have often wished I could send you word, but doing so would compromise the coming battle."
"Battle?" Matteo said incredulously.
She stopped him with a silent gesture and carefully parted a curtain of vines.
There, in utter silence, was a training field reminiscent of his days at the Jordaini College. Over a hundred men practiced with weapons of steel and wood and bone, yet there was no sound of impact, no grunts of exertion.
Matteo marveled to see jordaini routines practiced under a magical shroud of silence. He would have sooner expected snow in midsummer.
His gaze skimmed the crowd and came to rest on a tall auburn man. His disbelieving eyes widened, and he couldn't quite suppress a gasp of astonishment.
Tzigone sent him a quizzical look.
"That tall man," he said quietly, pointing. "He is very like my friend Andris." A terrible thought occurred to him. "Or an undead creature that was once Andris! I saw the wemic kill him the very day we met."
He spoke softly, just above a whisper, and then fell silent. But some magical ward captured his words and repeated them in an echo that thrummed through the forest.
The fighters stopped and turned toward their hiding place, weapons leveled.
But Andris's face broke into a joyful grin. He made a quick, impatient gesture, as if he were tearing aside an insect netting. "Trust your eyes, my friend," he said in a clear, carrying voice. "I'm alive and well and happier than I've ever been! Come into camp, and I'll tell you everything."
Chapter Nineteen
“It's a trap," Tzigone said flatly.
Matteo hesitated, uncertain whether to believe what his eyes told him. "Andris was my dearest friend. I can't walk away from him without a word. I'll understand if you don't wish to follow me, but I must go."
She thought this over and shrugged. Matteo stepped out into the clearing. After a moment, he heard Tzigone's light step behind him.
Andris strode to meet him, and the friends fell into a back-thumping embrace. Finally Matteo put Andris out at arms' length and regarded him. Andris had gained color from much time in the sun, as well as a bit more muscle on his lean frame.
"You're looking remarkably well for a dead man."
Genuine regret crossed the man's face. "My 'death' was a ruse to bring me to this cause. I have often wished I could send you word, but doing so would compromise the coming battle."
"Battle?" Matteo said incredulously.