The Wizardwar   ::   Каннингем Элейн

After allhe had seen this day, Matteo was not surprised that Andris simply faded away. He watched as a familiar form strode toward the waiting shadows. Andris was received joyfully and without reserve by the elves he had helped to free. Together they turned their eyes toward the first star and rose to meet the evening sky.

Matteo's gaze shifted from the royal family to the stars. Andris, like Tzigone, was finally among family.

The king's jordain rose and quietly walked toward the royal family, ready to serve, content in his own homecoming.



Epilogue



Matteo strode quickly through the city, sped by the light of the full moon and the sounds of battle coming from the dockside tavern.

He shouldered his way into the room and regarded the familiar scene with resignation. A young lad stood on one of the tables, juggling several mugs. A trio of angry men circled, grabbing at the boy's feet. The performer held them off with well-placed kicks and an occasional hurled mug. Several of the patrons cheered him on and even tossed other mugs to replenish his artillery.

Unfortunately, not all of those mugs were empty. Here and there ale-soaked patrons raised angry words and quick fists to the juggler's benefactors. Several small skirmishes provided side entertainment. Bets were shouted, coin changed hands.

Matteo strode into the room and stalked toward a trio of brawlers. He seized two of the men by their collars. He brought their heads together sharply and tossed them aside. The third man, seeing himself alone, snatched a sword from an observer's belt and brandished it with drunken menace.

The jordain's shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. He raised one hand and beckoned the man on. Bellowing like a bee-stung bull, the lout charged the apparently unarmed man.

Matteo stepped into the charge, seized the man's arm, and forced it down. The sword caught between two of the floor's wide wooden planks. The man kept going without it.

The lad, still juggling, hurled all three mugs in rapid succession. All three struck the drunk's forehead. He staggered, fell to his knees and went facedown into a puddle of ale.

Drunken cheers filled the tavern. The performer grinned like an urchin and took a deep bow.

Matteo seized a handful of short brown hair and pulled the "boy" from his perch. He deftly caught the miscreant and slung her over his shoulder.

The cheers turned to catcalls and protests, but by now it had occurred to the revelers that the intruder wore jordaini white.