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The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 196 из 216"Let's say that maybe one of the masters has a secret he'd just as soon not hear spoken aloud. Kiva knows this secret, and she trades silence for information. She wanted a battlemaster, right? Who were her best choices?"
"Andris and I stood nearly equal in most of our studies," Matteo said.
"Well, that explains why Kiva chose Andris. I'm guessing the master gave up without a word of protest. He probably figured better Andris than you."
"What is this secret?" Matteo said quietly.
She was silent for a long moment. "Knowing what you do, how would you respond if you knew that one of your jordaini masters was your true father? How long before you ferreted out the secrets of the jordaini class, before you found your mother? And how long before your brothers started similar searches? The entire order would be in, well, disorder."
Matteo considered this. "One of my masters sired me. And the woman you showed me. She was in fact my mother?"
"Yes."
He nodded, his face set and grim. "Then the wizard had reason to keep his secret. I would have killed him for what was done to her. I may still. You know his name, don't you?"
Tzigone hesitated, then shook her head. "I've always searched for my mother. When I saw your lineage, my eye went right to your mother's name. I read everything written about her, but I paid scant attention to the father's information. He's a wizard at the Jordaini College, that's all I know for sure."
Andris listened to this exchange with an increasingly incredulous expression. "Matteo, this is absurd! Surely you don't believe this boy's tall tales! The jordaini order has come to a sad state when the lads give in to open falsehood."
"Watch who you're calling a jordain!" Tzigone fumed, jabbing her forefinger into Andris's chest. "Don't start with me, unless you want to hear a few things about yourself that you won't like knowing."
Despite himself, the tall man looked intrigued. "A jordain’s ancestry is not important."
"You look real convinced of that," she said dryly. "So let's leave it at this: You're elf-blooded. It's back a few generations, but trust me, it's there."
Andris stared at her as if she'd run a sword through his gut. Matteo sighed and turned to Tzigone, who had apparently forgotten that she was wearing the «borrowed» vestments of the jordaini order. "Was that really necessary?"
"I've been into the swamp," she said grimly. "Not far into it, but far enough. Trust me, it's necessary. No one with a drop of elf blood ought to go near that place."
"To the contrary," Andris said softly. "I have even better reason now than I did before.
"Andris and I stood nearly equal in most of our studies," Matteo said.
"Well, that explains why Kiva chose Andris. I'm guessing the master gave up without a word of protest. He probably figured better Andris than you."
"What is this secret?" Matteo said quietly.
She was silent for a long moment. "Knowing what you do, how would you respond if you knew that one of your jordaini masters was your true father? How long before you ferreted out the secrets of the jordaini class, before you found your mother? And how long before your brothers started similar searches? The entire order would be in, well, disorder."
Matteo considered this. "One of my masters sired me. And the woman you showed me. She was in fact my mother?"
"Yes."
He nodded, his face set and grim. "Then the wizard had reason to keep his secret. I would have killed him for what was done to her. I may still. You know his name, don't you?"
Tzigone hesitated, then shook her head. "I've always searched for my mother. When I saw your lineage, my eye went right to your mother's name. I read everything written about her, but I paid scant attention to the father's information. He's a wizard at the Jordaini College, that's all I know for sure."
Andris listened to this exchange with an increasingly incredulous expression. "Matteo, this is absurd! Surely you don't believe this boy's tall tales! The jordaini order has come to a sad state when the lads give in to open falsehood."
"Watch who you're calling a jordain!" Tzigone fumed, jabbing her forefinger into Andris's chest. "Don't start with me, unless you want to hear a few things about yourself that you won't like knowing."
Despite himself, the tall man looked intrigued. "A jordain’s ancestry is not important."
"You look real convinced of that," she said dryly. "So let's leave it at this: You're elf-blooded. It's back a few generations, but trust me, it's there."
Andris stared at her as if she'd run a sword through his gut. Matteo sighed and turned to Tzigone, who had apparently forgotten that she was wearing the «borrowed» vestments of the jordaini order. "Was that really necessary?"
"I've been into the swamp," she said grimly. "Not far into it, but far enough. Trust me, it's necessary. No one with a drop of elf blood ought to go near that place."
"To the contrary," Andris said softly. "I have even better reason now than I did before.