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The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 139 из 208There were no birds crawling across the pewter-colored sky, no scurrying voles amid the dull grasses, not even the hum and chirp of insects.
Yet strange images seemed to swirl through the air, and voices lurked beneath the silence. There was more to this place than Matteo's eyes could perceive-he was certain of that. The magic here was so thick, so foreign to Halruaan magic, that even he could perceive its presence.
He wondered, briefly, what he might see through the eyes of a dark fairy. This misty moor was some sort of magical antechamber, no more real than a dream.
The ground beneath him was damp and thickly covered by moss, and as he walked the spongy surface seemed to absorb his energy. Certainly it slowed his steps. The mist thickened, until he could see no more than a few paces ahead. He called Tzigone's name, but sound did not seem to carry much farther than sight could reach.
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a solid fist flashed into Matteo's face. There was no time to evade, so he took the punch, turning his head with the blow rather than bracing against it. He seized a handful of coarse linen and pulled his assailant down with him. They were evenly matched in size, and for several moments Matteo struggled to pin the man. When he did, he gazed down into a furious face, one disconcertingly like his own.
"Benn," he said in astonishment, recognizing the young peasant.
"Why did you bring me here?" the peasant demanded. Guilt surged as Matteo considered this question. Was it possible that he had truly dragged the young man into this grim place? Had his jordaini resistance to magic distorted Basel's spellcasting?
The man began to struggle. "Haven't you and yours done enough?"
"It was not my choice," Matteo said earnestly. "I never meant you any harm."
"How many people have to pay for your jordaini honors?" inquired a soft, almost toneless female voice.
Matteo released Benn and staggered to his feet, stunned by the sudden appearance of the small, listless woman he had met but once. He quickly inclined his head in the traditional bow of respect to a wizard-for this is what his mother had been, before his birth had reduced her to this state.
"My lady, you took your own path," Matteo said respectfully. "I regret where it has brought you, but the choice was never mine to make."
The woman's eyes seemed to stare right through him. "It is cold here," she muttered, as if she had heard nothing Matteo said.
He moved closer. "Vishna never told me your name," he said softly.
A puzzled expression crossed her face, bringing another stab of guilt and pain to the young jordain's heart.
Yet strange images seemed to swirl through the air, and voices lurked beneath the silence. There was more to this place than Matteo's eyes could perceive-he was certain of that. The magic here was so thick, so foreign to Halruaan magic, that even he could perceive its presence.
He wondered, briefly, what he might see through the eyes of a dark fairy. This misty moor was some sort of magical antechamber, no more real than a dream.
The ground beneath him was damp and thickly covered by moss, and as he walked the spongy surface seemed to absorb his energy. Certainly it slowed his steps. The mist thickened, until he could see no more than a few paces ahead. He called Tzigone's name, but sound did not seem to carry much farther than sight could reach.
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a solid fist flashed into Matteo's face. There was no time to evade, so he took the punch, turning his head with the blow rather than bracing against it. He seized a handful of coarse linen and pulled his assailant down with him. They were evenly matched in size, and for several moments Matteo struggled to pin the man. When he did, he gazed down into a furious face, one disconcertingly like his own.
"Benn," he said in astonishment, recognizing the young peasant.
"Why did you bring me here?" the peasant demanded. Guilt surged as Matteo considered this question. Was it possible that he had truly dragged the young man into this grim place? Had his jordaini resistance to magic distorted Basel's spellcasting?
The man began to struggle. "Haven't you and yours done enough?"
"It was not my choice," Matteo said earnestly. "I never meant you any harm."
"How many people have to pay for your jordaini honors?" inquired a soft, almost toneless female voice.
Matteo released Benn and staggered to his feet, stunned by the sudden appearance of the small, listless woman he had met but once. He quickly inclined his head in the traditional bow of respect to a wizard-for this is what his mother had been, before his birth had reduced her to this state.
"My lady, you took your own path," Matteo said respectfully. "I regret where it has brought you, but the choice was never mine to make."
The woman's eyes seemed to stare right through him. "It is cold here," she muttered, as if she had heard nothing Matteo said.
He moved closer. "Vishna never told me your name," he said softly.
A puzzled expression crossed her face, bringing another stab of guilt and pain to the young jordain's heart.