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The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 57 из 216He took up the reins and found that one had been sliced by the wemic's sword. He dismounted to retrieve it and tie it back on. Cyric was nearly impossible to control under the best of circumstances, and he dared not attempt to guide the horse with only his knees.
Tzigone watched as the young man bent over the repair. Moving like a shadow, she retrieved the sword that Matteo had flung aside. For a moment she regarded it and debated what to do. She couldn't take it with her, that much was certain. Penalties for dressing or arming oneself above one's station were severe, and the last thing Tzigone needed was another brush with the law. Swords were valuable, and in Halruaa, spells of seeking made sure that valuable objects didn't stay «borrowed» for long.
But she hated to leave the weapon in the street. Who knew who might pick it up and what use they might make of it? And judging from the day he'd had so far, Matteo was likely to need just such a sword before much more time passed. Certainly he'd handled it better than she had expected. It would be well for both of them if he had use of the sword when next their paths crossed.
Tzigone didn't require much persuading. She took a length of leather thong from her bag and quickly tied the sword to the back of the stallion's saddle. Fortunately the horse's back was broad and the sword short enough to conceal. She tucked the saddle blanket over the hilt Judging by the shrewd, approving look in Cyric's eyes, she figured that the horse would find some way to alert Matteo of the weapon's presence if need arose.
She worked quickly and backed away just as Matteo looked up from the newly repaired bridle. "Peace to you, Tzigone," he said as he swung himself up on the stallion's back.
"And to you," she responded demurely.
She watched as the young man rode off, well content with her decision. Peace was a fine word and certainly something worth aspiring to, but in her experience, it was rarer than riches. If peace proved elusive, at least she'd seen that Matteo was properly armed.
And properly warded, too. The wemic was beginning to stir and groan, but when he awoke he would remember nothing of the day's events.
Just to be sure, Tzigone crouched by the wemic and repeated the small spell that she had cast, one that she had learned in a lifetime of seeking remedies for her own forgetfulness.
Her fingers still itched and tingled after the casting was complete. This didn't surprise her. Wizards seemed to think that all magical energy should dissipate with a spell, but Tzigone found this ridiculous.
Tzigone watched as the young man bent over the repair. Moving like a shadow, she retrieved the sword that Matteo had flung aside. For a moment she regarded it and debated what to do. She couldn't take it with her, that much was certain. Penalties for dressing or arming oneself above one's station were severe, and the last thing Tzigone needed was another brush with the law. Swords were valuable, and in Halruaa, spells of seeking made sure that valuable objects didn't stay «borrowed» for long.
But she hated to leave the weapon in the street. Who knew who might pick it up and what use they might make of it? And judging from the day he'd had so far, Matteo was likely to need just such a sword before much more time passed. Certainly he'd handled it better than she had expected. It would be well for both of them if he had use of the sword when next their paths crossed.
Tzigone didn't require much persuading. She took a length of leather thong from her bag and quickly tied the sword to the back of the stallion's saddle. Fortunately the horse's back was broad and the sword short enough to conceal. She tucked the saddle blanket over the hilt Judging by the shrewd, approving look in Cyric's eyes, she figured that the horse would find some way to alert Matteo of the weapon's presence if need arose.
She worked quickly and backed away just as Matteo looked up from the newly repaired bridle. "Peace to you, Tzigone," he said as he swung himself up on the stallion's back.
"And to you," she responded demurely.
She watched as the young man rode off, well content with her decision. Peace was a fine word and certainly something worth aspiring to, but in her experience, it was rarer than riches. If peace proved elusive, at least she'd seen that Matteo was properly armed.
And properly warded, too. The wemic was beginning to stir and groan, but when he awoke he would remember nothing of the day's events.
Just to be sure, Tzigone crouched by the wemic and repeated the small spell that she had cast, one that she had learned in a lifetime of seeking remedies for her own forgetfulness.
Her fingers still itched and tingled after the casting was complete. This didn't surprise her. Wizards seemed to think that all magical energy should dissipate with a spell, but Tzigone found this ridiculous.