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The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 142 из 208"It is you! It has to be! Who else could possibly believe a kiss like that would be worth remembering?"
Shehurled herself into his arms, clinging to him with a fervor that belied her teasing words.
The Unseelie mists deepened around them, and the chill seemed to sink into Matteo's bones. With sudden certainly, he realized that the magic had indeed slipped inside him, trying to find something to twist and control and torment.
Suddenly he was intensely aware of the girl in his arms in a way he had never been before. The heat and the need were compelling, disturbing.
He searched his heart for the truth of this. There had been moments when he was intensely aware of Tzigone as female, and he had felt an occasional twinge of intrigued curiosity. But that was not the heart of their friendship.
This triumph was short-lived, for a sudden heaviness settled upon him-the obsessive weight of the debts that first shaped and defined their relationship. He glanced down and noted Tzigone regarding him with an equally troubled expression. On impulse, he decided to turn this latest test into a joke.
"You take your debts seriously," Matteo reminded her. "If I get you out of here, the price will be an entire year without any infraction of Halruaan law."
She wriggled out of his arms. "Before you talk about price, you need to see something."
Matteo followed her through the mist, keeping close on her heels for fear of losing her.
She stopped abruptly and turned to him. "Dhamari is gone. I think I know why." She stepped aside, giving Matteo a full view of the mist-veiled horror.
A Crinti woman sat propped against a steep-sided conical mound, her head lolling to one side. Her face was black with dried blood. Where her eyes had been were dark, empty holes.
"She tore them out with her fingernails," Tzigone said dully. "Whatever she saw here was more than she could face. Dhamari is gone, and she is here. It was a trade, Matteo. A trade. I won't take my life at the cost of yours."
"That's not how it will be," Matteo said sternly. "We are here together, and together we'll leave. We have to trust in that and in each other."
A silvery sword clattered to the ground between them, sending them both leaping back in surprise. Matteo recognized the sword as the weapon Tzigone had stolen from a swordsmith shop the day they'd met and later hidden behind his horse's saddle. Possession of a stolen sword had earned him a night in the city prison.
"Which one of us did that?" he wondered, pointed to the sword.
"Does it matter? The small betrayals add up," Tzigone said, her usually merry voice troubled.
Shehurled herself into his arms, clinging to him with a fervor that belied her teasing words.
The Unseelie mists deepened around them, and the chill seemed to sink into Matteo's bones. With sudden certainly, he realized that the magic had indeed slipped inside him, trying to find something to twist and control and torment.
Suddenly he was intensely aware of the girl in his arms in a way he had never been before. The heat and the need were compelling, disturbing.
He searched his heart for the truth of this. There had been moments when he was intensely aware of Tzigone as female, and he had felt an occasional twinge of intrigued curiosity. But that was not the heart of their friendship.
This triumph was short-lived, for a sudden heaviness settled upon him-the obsessive weight of the debts that first shaped and defined their relationship. He glanced down and noted Tzigone regarding him with an equally troubled expression. On impulse, he decided to turn this latest test into a joke.
"You take your debts seriously," Matteo reminded her. "If I get you out of here, the price will be an entire year without any infraction of Halruaan law."
She wriggled out of his arms. "Before you talk about price, you need to see something."
Matteo followed her through the mist, keeping close on her heels for fear of losing her.
She stopped abruptly and turned to him. "Dhamari is gone. I think I know why." She stepped aside, giving Matteo a full view of the mist-veiled horror.
A Crinti woman sat propped against a steep-sided conical mound, her head lolling to one side. Her face was black with dried blood. Where her eyes had been were dark, empty holes.
"She tore them out with her fingernails," Tzigone said dully. "Whatever she saw here was more than she could face. Dhamari is gone, and she is here. It was a trade, Matteo. A trade. I won't take my life at the cost of yours."
"That's not how it will be," Matteo said sternly. "We are here together, and together we'll leave. We have to trust in that and in each other."
A silvery sword clattered to the ground between them, sending them both leaping back in surprise. Matteo recognized the sword as the weapon Tzigone had stolen from a swordsmith shop the day they'd met and later hidden behind his horse's saddle. Possession of a stolen sword had earned him a night in the city prison.
"Which one of us did that?" he wondered, pointed to the sword.
"Does it matter? The small betrayals add up," Tzigone said, her usually merry voice troubled.