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The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 123 из 208He also said the man whose place I took had no part in it and would half-kill anyone who did."
Matteo gave a grim nod of agreement. After a moment, he ventured, "Are you treated well here?"
The peasant pointed toward a snug cottage, just over a stone bridge that crossed the river. Well-tended fields surrounded his domain. A small flock of goats grazed on a Ml, and a pair of rothe calves gamboled in the paddock.
"If I hadn't been brought to the Jordaini College, my years would have been spent in another man's field. See what I have here. The jordaini hold title to the land, but it's mine to work as I see fit."
Benn shrugged. "My Phoebe pines for babes from time to time, but we two have a fine life together. She is mistress of her own home. She makes her cheeses and sells them to the jordaini for a fair price, and she's a good hand with weaving. I bought her a fine loom for her bride's gift," he said with pride. "How many men can claim that?"
The jordain's answering smile was genuine. "Few men achieve such contentment. Your happiness lifts a burden from my heart. It surprises me, though, that the guard could produce so much ready coin. A good loom is a costly thing."
"Oh, wasn't the guard. 'Twas a master paid me off." Matteo's heart thudded painfully. "Would you know him if you saw him again?"
The young man snorted. "Not such a chore. An old man, but tall-about the height of you and me. Had a beak like a buzzard. This sound like anyone you know?" The jordain nodded, for he could not force speech through his suddenly constricted throat. There was only one master who fit that description-his favorite master, an elderly battle wizard, and the last man in the Jordaini College whom Matteo would have suspected of involvement in this grim chapter. The last man he would have suspected of conspiring with Kiva.
With a heavy heart, Matteo mounted his horse and kicked it into a run. As he galloped toward the college gates, Andris's words rang in his mind:
Some truths are like dark mirrors.
Seeking his reflection in this particular man's face, if it came to that, would be a difficult task indeed.
Tzigone sank down onto a large stone, too exhausted to walk farther. She stared out into the mist-a constant, chilling presence that never seemed to recede a single pace no matter how far she walked. There was no edge to that mist, at least, none that she could find.
She was reaching the edges of her endurance. This morning she'd had to cut a new notch in her belt just to keep her trousers up. Time passed strangely here, but she suspected that several days had passed since her last meal.
Matteo gave a grim nod of agreement. After a moment, he ventured, "Are you treated well here?"
The peasant pointed toward a snug cottage, just over a stone bridge that crossed the river. Well-tended fields surrounded his domain. A small flock of goats grazed on a Ml, and a pair of rothe calves gamboled in the paddock.
"If I hadn't been brought to the Jordaini College, my years would have been spent in another man's field. See what I have here. The jordaini hold title to the land, but it's mine to work as I see fit."
Benn shrugged. "My Phoebe pines for babes from time to time, but we two have a fine life together. She is mistress of her own home. She makes her cheeses and sells them to the jordaini for a fair price, and she's a good hand with weaving. I bought her a fine loom for her bride's gift," he said with pride. "How many men can claim that?"
The jordain's answering smile was genuine. "Few men achieve such contentment. Your happiness lifts a burden from my heart. It surprises me, though, that the guard could produce so much ready coin. A good loom is a costly thing."
"Oh, wasn't the guard. 'Twas a master paid me off." Matteo's heart thudded painfully. "Would you know him if you saw him again?"
The young man snorted. "Not such a chore. An old man, but tall-about the height of you and me. Had a beak like a buzzard. This sound like anyone you know?" The jordain nodded, for he could not force speech through his suddenly constricted throat. There was only one master who fit that description-his favorite master, an elderly battle wizard, and the last man in the Jordaini College whom Matteo would have suspected of involvement in this grim chapter. The last man he would have suspected of conspiring with Kiva.
With a heavy heart, Matteo mounted his horse and kicked it into a run. As he galloped toward the college gates, Andris's words rang in his mind:
Some truths are like dark mirrors.
Seeking his reflection in this particular man's face, if it came to that, would be a difficult task indeed.
Tzigone sank down onto a large stone, too exhausted to walk farther. She stared out into the mist-a constant, chilling presence that never seemed to recede a single pace no matter how far she walked. There was no edge to that mist, at least, none that she could find.
She was reaching the edges of her endurance. This morning she'd had to cut a new notch in her belt just to keep her trousers up. Time passed strangely here, but she suspected that several days had passed since her last meal.