JК
The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 58 из 216Magic was all around, all that wizards did was pick up pieces of it and combine them to make something new. They were so puffed up about their "great power," as if they actually created the magic they used. As if anyone could!
But there did seem to be an unusual amount of magic about. There was also some interesting treasure. Tzigone's fingers reached, almost of their own volition, for the wemic's earring. The stone was too big to be a ruby, but even it if were a garnet or carnelian, it would fetch a good price at the back door of many a respected gem merchant She didn't worry about speeding the wemic's rise to wakefulness. Her fingers were so skilled that she could take the gem from him when he was fully awake without alerting him to his loss.
But she stopped just short of touching the stone. Acting on instinct, she jerked back her hand and clenched her fingers into a fist. Insight quickly followed. The ruby had been a lure, as most likely the red gown had been a lure. It had been so prominently displayed, so easy to steal, and so temptingly cut to her size. The last bit convinced her that she was right. The gown had been fashioned of expensive watered silk, yet it was far too small to fit the lush, extravagant figures cultivated by ladies of wealth and fashion. She'd bet skie against sand that it had been made to order with her in mind. And embued with a spell of seeking. No wonder the wemic had come so close to catching her.
With a single quick movement, Tzigone rocked back on to her heels and then rose to her feet. Resisting the temptation to give the wemic a final kick, she melted into the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, intent upon finding a way to finish paying her debt to the young jordain.
Chapter Six
In a rented tower room not far away, Kiva leaned intently over the scrying bowl as she watched the battle between her friend Mbatu and the young jordain who had caught her eye earlier that day.
Matteo intrigued her. She had taken Zephyr's reports and done some research of her own. By all accounts, he was among the most promising of the jordaini students, as sharp and strong as any among them. Yet until this morning, she had not considered him to be a likely recruit. He was a true believer, steeped from birth in jordaini lore and the glamour of the jordaini myth. Such as he were never easy to turn.
She would believe this still, had she not witnessed the intensity of his grief over his lost friend. Matteo might have devoted his life to truth, but Kiva suspected that in time he would find rules and facts to be too bloodless a mistress.
But there did seem to be an unusual amount of magic about. There was also some interesting treasure. Tzigone's fingers reached, almost of their own volition, for the wemic's earring. The stone was too big to be a ruby, but even it if were a garnet or carnelian, it would fetch a good price at the back door of many a respected gem merchant She didn't worry about speeding the wemic's rise to wakefulness. Her fingers were so skilled that she could take the gem from him when he was fully awake without alerting him to his loss.
But she stopped just short of touching the stone. Acting on instinct, she jerked back her hand and clenched her fingers into a fist. Insight quickly followed. The ruby had been a lure, as most likely the red gown had been a lure. It had been so prominently displayed, so easy to steal, and so temptingly cut to her size. The last bit convinced her that she was right. The gown had been fashioned of expensive watered silk, yet it was far too small to fit the lush, extravagant figures cultivated by ladies of wealth and fashion. She'd bet skie against sand that it had been made to order with her in mind. And embued with a spell of seeking. No wonder the wemic had come so close to catching her.
With a single quick movement, Tzigone rocked back on to her heels and then rose to her feet. Resisting the temptation to give the wemic a final kick, she melted into the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, intent upon finding a way to finish paying her debt to the young jordain.
Chapter Six
In a rented tower room not far away, Kiva leaned intently over the scrying bowl as she watched the battle between her friend Mbatu and the young jordain who had caught her eye earlier that day.
Matteo intrigued her. She had taken Zephyr's reports and done some research of her own. By all accounts, he was among the most promising of the jordaini students, as sharp and strong as any among them. Yet until this morning, she had not considered him to be a likely recruit. He was a true believer, steeped from birth in jordaini lore and the glamour of the jordaini myth. Such as he were never easy to turn.
She would believe this still, had she not witnessed the intensity of his grief over his lost friend. Matteo might have devoted his life to truth, but Kiva suspected that in time he would find rules and facts to be too bloodless a mistress.