JК
The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
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"And if Kiva is not correct?" Tzigone asked, her voice a mocking imitation of the jordain's worshipful tones.
"I would not ask this of her," Matteo said softly. "She may have this talent from her mother, but I suspect she also has a bit of the diviner's gift. Her sight doesn't go forward, but back in time. I have seen it. This gift is newly awakened in her. I do not know if the laraken will sense it or not."
Andris considered this. "If this is true, then the battle would be dangerous to her, and to us as well. Only people who are utterly without magic can avoid the laraken."
"It is too big a risk to take," Matteo said. "Tzigone, you must leave. Go now, and quickly."
His words stirred memory, memory awakened by the sound of her mother's name.
Run, child! Keturah had said, her beautiful voice shrill with fear. Don't stop for anything.
The words echoed through Tzigone's mind and chilled her heart, just as they had done nearly twenty years before. She responded instinctively, like the child she had been, arid she turned on her heel and fled.
She ran to the nearest big tree and scrambled up into its comforting, leafy arms. She fisted her hands and dug them into her eyes, fiercely willing herself into the darkness of the memory trance.
Tzigone slipped back, back, until once again she was a small child, fleeing with her mother. They were in the puzzle palace, a magical maze that filled a vast courtyard. Footsteps thudded through the villa toward them.
Tzigone turned to dart back into the insane courtyard, plucking at her mother's skirt. But the woman gently pried the small fingers loose.
"Go," she said quietly. "My magic is nearly gone. They will find me soon whether I run or stay."
"I won't leave you," the child said stubbornly.
"You must. It is you they seek."
The child Tzigone nodded. Somehow she had always known. But knowing wasn't the same as doing, and she could not bear to leave.
A figure appeared suddenly in the open door, though the sound of footsteps was still many paces away. The child stared with mingled awe and fear at the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld.
In the doorway stood an elf woman of rare and exotic beauty. Her skin was the coppery hue of a desert sunset, and her elaborately curled and braided hair was the deep green of jungle moss. Rich displays of gold and emeralds and malachite glittered at her throat and on her hands. Over her yellow silk dress, she wore an overtunic of dark green, much embroidered with golden thread.
"And if Kiva is not correct?" Tzigone asked, her voice a mocking imitation of the jordain's worshipful tones.
"I would not ask this of her," Matteo said softly. "She may have this talent from her mother, but I suspect she also has a bit of the diviner's gift. Her sight doesn't go forward, but back in time. I have seen it. This gift is newly awakened in her. I do not know if the laraken will sense it or not."
Andris considered this. "If this is true, then the battle would be dangerous to her, and to us as well. Only people who are utterly without magic can avoid the laraken."
"It is too big a risk to take," Matteo said. "Tzigone, you must leave. Go now, and quickly."
His words stirred memory, memory awakened by the sound of her mother's name.
Run, child! Keturah had said, her beautiful voice shrill with fear. Don't stop for anything.
The words echoed through Tzigone's mind and chilled her heart, just as they had done nearly twenty years before. She responded instinctively, like the child she had been, arid she turned on her heel and fled.
She ran to the nearest big tree and scrambled up into its comforting, leafy arms. She fisted her hands and dug them into her eyes, fiercely willing herself into the darkness of the memory trance.
Tzigone slipped back, back, until once again she was a small child, fleeing with her mother. They were in the puzzle palace, a magical maze that filled a vast courtyard. Footsteps thudded through the villa toward them.
Tzigone turned to dart back into the insane courtyard, plucking at her mother's skirt. But the woman gently pried the small fingers loose.
"Go," she said quietly. "My magic is nearly gone. They will find me soon whether I run or stay."
"I won't leave you," the child said stubbornly.
"You must. It is you they seek."
The child Tzigone nodded. Somehow she had always known. But knowing wasn't the same as doing, and she could not bear to leave.
A figure appeared suddenly in the open door, though the sound of footsteps was still many paces away. The child stared with mingled awe and fear at the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld.
In the doorway stood an elf woman of rare and exotic beauty. Her skin was the coppery hue of a desert sunset, and her elaborately curled and braided hair was the deep green of jungle moss. Rich displays of gold and emeralds and malachite glittered at her throat and on her hands. Over her yellow silk dress, she wore an overtunic of dark green, much embroidered with golden thread.