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The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 45 из 216No doubt the wizard had been unable to find an official representative of Khaerbaal's law and had returned to handle the matter himself.
A hunk of bread bounced off Matteo's head. He glanced in the direction from which it had come, annoyed at the petty distraction. The young entertainer peered around the frame of the back door, gesturing frantically.
"Psst! This way, and hurry!"
When Matteo hesitated, the boy rolled his eyes impatiently. "Your friend's out here. He needs you."
Matteo glanced to the place on the floor where he had left Themo "sleeping." Sure enough, the big jordain had slipped away, no doubt to pick a fight elsewhere. With a sigh, he quickly made his way to the back of the room and out into the street beyond.
He followed the lad to the end of the long dueling alley and then stopped. The corridor was empty but for him and the boy, as was the street beyond.
"Where's Themo?" he demanded.
"How should I know?" the urchin retorted. "Unless it's true what they say about jordaini, we'd better start running."
This was the second time someone had made that remark, and Matteo liked it even less on second hearing. He didn't have the leisure to inquire, however, for at that moment the wizard burst from the tavern, his face indignant and his open palm flaming with light.
"Damn," the boy muttered and dug one hand into the bag that hung at his belt.
Matteo drew his daggers and prepared to deflect the magical attack. As he expected, the sun arrow spell took deadly form and spun toward him. He formed the classic defense with a smooth, practiced movement.
But the boy was quicker still. His small hand flashed out, holding a shining bit of glass. Before Matteo could thrust the lad aside, the bolt struck the proffered target. It hit the small mirror squarely and bounced back at a declining angle toward the wizard.
There was a moment of stunned silence. The wizard let out a small, high-pitched whimper and began to topple slowly to one side, clutching with both hands at the smoking robes covering his groin.
Matteo sent an incredulous stare at the lad. The urchin shrugged and lifted the mirror to his own face, preening a bit and combing his cap of short brown hair with surprisingly delicate fingers.
"You told a deliberate lie," Matteo marveled.
It was the urchin's turn to be surprised. "I did a lot of things. That's the one that caught your fancy?"
Matteo glanced at the man writhing on the cobblestone and remembered the boy's deft and dangerous performance in the tavern. There was something to the lad's logic. But his next words, when he spoke, surprised him.
A hunk of bread bounced off Matteo's head. He glanced in the direction from which it had come, annoyed at the petty distraction. The young entertainer peered around the frame of the back door, gesturing frantically.
"Psst! This way, and hurry!"
When Matteo hesitated, the boy rolled his eyes impatiently. "Your friend's out here. He needs you."
Matteo glanced to the place on the floor where he had left Themo "sleeping." Sure enough, the big jordain had slipped away, no doubt to pick a fight elsewhere. With a sigh, he quickly made his way to the back of the room and out into the street beyond.
He followed the lad to the end of the long dueling alley and then stopped. The corridor was empty but for him and the boy, as was the street beyond.
"Where's Themo?" he demanded.
"How should I know?" the urchin retorted. "Unless it's true what they say about jordaini, we'd better start running."
This was the second time someone had made that remark, and Matteo liked it even less on second hearing. He didn't have the leisure to inquire, however, for at that moment the wizard burst from the tavern, his face indignant and his open palm flaming with light.
"Damn," the boy muttered and dug one hand into the bag that hung at his belt.
Matteo drew his daggers and prepared to deflect the magical attack. As he expected, the sun arrow spell took deadly form and spun toward him. He formed the classic defense with a smooth, practiced movement.
But the boy was quicker still. His small hand flashed out, holding a shining bit of glass. Before Matteo could thrust the lad aside, the bolt struck the proffered target. It hit the small mirror squarely and bounced back at a declining angle toward the wizard.
There was a moment of stunned silence. The wizard let out a small, high-pitched whimper and began to topple slowly to one side, clutching with both hands at the smoking robes covering his groin.
Matteo sent an incredulous stare at the lad. The urchin shrugged and lifted the mirror to his own face, preening a bit and combing his cap of short brown hair with surprisingly delicate fingers.
"You told a deliberate lie," Matteo marveled.
It was the urchin's turn to be surprised. "I did a lot of things. That's the one that caught your fancy?"
Matteo glanced at the man writhing on the cobblestone and remembered the boy's deft and dangerous performance in the tavern. There was something to the lad's logic. But his next words, when he spoke, surprised him.