The Magehound (39 page)

“Happy?” Matteo rejected that assessment with a shake of his head. “I did not plan a life of subterfuge and secrecy. It seems a strange way to go about the service of truth. But not all truths need to be spoken aloud.”

Tzigone winked. “And some of them can stand a bit of color and flash. Call me if you need lessons in truth improvement.”

She swept both arms up with a cat-quick gesture. Where she had stood was a slim flame, blazing with rainbow hues. It winked out as quickly as it came, and Tzigone was gone. With color and flash, no less.

Matteo smiled wryly and shook his head. Basel Indoulur had chosen well. Tzigone had enormous talent, and she was certain to become Basel’s star apprentice. In no time at all, she would be accounted a wizard.

His smile faded abruptly. Now that Tzigone was on the road to becoming a wizard, their odd friendship was at an end. The only way he would have dealings with her was as an enemy, or…

“A patron,” he said with a groan.

Before he could ponder that disturbing thought, the palace bells began to peal, summoning the servants in before the grounds were sealed for the night.

He went directly to the queen’s chambers to see if his services would be required that evening. He entered quietly, noting that the queen was alone in her workshop. An exquisite music box sat on the table beside her, and a clockwork cat purred in her lap. The box was fashioned to resemble a gilded cage, and in it a clockwork bird covered with tiny iridescent metal feathers swung on a tiny swing.

The queen idly stroked the cat, her eyes distant as she started to sing. Her voice was faint at first, as flat and toneless as her speaking voice. But then it grew in strength, becoming rich and full. The wordless tune portrayed sadness and loss more poignantly than the funeral keen of a master bard.

Matteo stopped dead. He had heard that voice before. There was no mistaking the dark alto tone and the magic that lurked behind every note. It was the voice Tzigone had used to call the laraken. For a moment the battle flooded back to him in all its exhilaration and horror and loss.

Then the memory faded, and his moment of certainty fled with it like light from a windblown candle. Should he speak to Tzigone of this? Or was this one of those truths that should remain unspoken?

For that matter, was it truth at all?

Queen Beatrix fell silent behind the blank, inhuman mask that her face had become. She put aside the cat and took up the music box, staring at the marvel of gears and gems in her hands. Tiny bells began to chime as the clockwork bird took up the heartbreaking tune.