The Wizardwar (33 page)

The young man’s eyes shifted briefly to the smoking, blackened garden. “So I’m to stay here.”

Matteo’s visage softened. “Come with me to the palace. You’ll stay in guest chambers under guard until this matter is settled. Tzigone?”

“Go ahead. I値l follow you in a while.”

The jordain hesitated, but he apparently sensed her need to be alone. The two men left the tower.

When all was quiet, Tzigone went to the window and leaned heavily against the sill. The charred gates stood open, and the magic that had encircled the tower was gone.

The interrupted fireball had melted rock and soil into a sheet of dark glass. In it was reflected a slim, shining crescent. She glanced up. The smoke still rising from the garden cast shifting patterns against the waning moon.

Tzigone stood there as the moon crested the sky, saying a private farewell to the man who had been her father, if just for one brief day. There would be no somber rites for Basel Indoulur, no formal funeral pyre such as honored Halruaa’s great wizards. She suspected Basel would probably prefer matters as they were.

A soft, furtive sound pierced her reverie and sent her spinning around. She drew back, astonished, as her gaze fell upon Dhamari Exchelsor.

The wizard looked equally startled to see her. “What are you doing here?” he blurted out

Her chin came up. “I’m Basel’s apprentice, and by Halruaan law, his heir as well. I have every right to be here. You don’t.”

“Basel had no business in my tower, either,” he spat out.

Tzigone lifted one brow. “Your tower? When you divorced Keturah, you forfeited legal rights to it. It’s mine. Your belongings have been sent to the Exchelsor vineyard estates.”

“Not all of them. I’m come to reclaim what Basel stole from me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You just happened to show up now. You were surprised to find anyone still alive in the tower.”

“Unpleasantly surprised,” he said, his eyes burning with hatred and his hand slowly drifting to a bag hanging at his belt.

“Did you know about this attack?”

“It was not a subtle thing,” the wizard countered. His hand dipped into his bag and flashed toward.

Instinctively Tzigone threw up both hands. Magical energy coursed from her, ready to ward off the spell.

But the wizard knew her magic almost better than she did. No spell flew from his hand, but a tiny winged creature.

It exploded into full size, filling the room with rustling wings and thick ropes of topaz and emerald scales.

The starsnake flew at Tzigone, its jaws flung open for attack. She sang a single clear, high note, and the winged snake veered away, circling up toward the ceiling.

She kept singing, instinctively finding a strange, atonal melody that somehow matched the snake’s frenzied, undulating flight

In moments she felt the magic that entrapped the creature melt away. The starsnake shot out of the open window.

Tzigone stepped forward and drove her fist into Dhamari’s slack-jawed face. He stumbled backward and fell heavily against a rack of edged weapons. Down clattered the swords and knifes, their keen edges leaving bloody tracks on the wizard’s body.

Dhamari flailed at the falling blades, trying vainly to protect himself but making matters far worse than they needed to be. Each thrashing movement left another gash-in his panic, he was cutting himself to ribbons. Yet none of his wounds bled. Even in this, Keturah’s talisman protected him from himself.

Tzigone reached down and closed her hand over her mother’s talisman. “Enough,” she said in cool, even tones. “Eventually, everyone has to face who he is and live or die with the results.” With a quick tug, she broke the chain and tore it free.

The fallen wizard’s body erupted into a crimson fountain, and his shrieks of rage and pain rang out into the night. In moments he lay limp and silent.

Tzigone put her mother’s medallion around her neck and left the tower without a backward glance. It was time for her to take her own advice and face who she truly was.

Matteo slept not at all that night. Dawn crept over the city, and still he gazed at a moon grown perilously slim and frail. Moondark was only two days away, and when the moon was born anew, Beatrix would come to trial.

Andris’s charge of treason might be forgiven. An obscure Halruaan law forgave offenders who did Halruaa a great service. Certainly Andris had done so many times over. Beatrix was another matter entirely. Matteo still had no notion of how to defend her, other than finding a way to shatter the Cabal-and with it, the king’s most powerful shield. That path could only lead to chaos and unbridled wizardwar.

Last night’s attack on Basel’s tower was not a unique occurrence. More than one wizard had stepped forward to challenge Zalathorm’s right and fitness to rule. Mage duels took place in street corners and city gardens as ambitious wizards strove to prove supremacy. Other wizards watched and chose up sides. Other illegal and more deadly forms of combat were becoming commonplace. Reports of spell battles and magical ambushes were daily occurrences. Just yesterday, three of the men who declared against Malchior Belajoon had disappeared, and no one could discern the magic or the spellcaster responsible.

A small pink dove fluttered to a stop on Matteo’s windowsill. The bird cocked its head and looked at him expectantly. Matteo noted the small scroll case strapped to the dove’s leg. He quickly removed it and shook out the bit of parchment. It was a note from Tzigone, asking him to come at once to Keturah’s tower.

He hurried from the room, oblivious to the bird’s aggrieved coos-such messengers were trained to wait for a reply. The green marble tower was not far from the palace, and the streets were still quiet under the fading night sky. Matteo sprinted down the street, intent on his goal. After the attack on Basel’s tower, he suspected the worse.

He ran past a stand of flowering xenia bushes and didn’t see the out-thrust foot until it was too late. He deftly turned the trip into a roll and came up in a crouch, daggers out.

Branches parted, and Tzigone’s small face peered out at him. She gestured for him to join her. After a moment’s hesitation, he edged into the small hollow.

“Procopio Septus is in the tower,” she said.

Matteo’s brows rose. “You’re certain?”

“He just walked in.” She shook her head in self-reproach. “I haven’t had time to change the wards since I took over the tower.”

He caught the implication at once. “Procopio knows Dhamari’s wards! How could this be? A diviner might be able to see through some of them but certainly not all.”

“I imagine Dhamari handed him the counterspells,” she said grimly. “They’re best of friends these days.”

The jordain huffed. “You didn’t see fit to mention this?”

“Do you want to hear what I have to say, or would you rather fuss?” she said sharply.

He held up both hands in a gesture of peace. “We’ll come back to Procopio later.”

“We always seem to,” she agreed. “Anyway, last night Dhamari came to Basel’s tower after you all left. He was very surprised to find anyone still alive. My guess is he knew the attack was coming.”

Matteo looked troubled. “If he did, most likely Procopio knew as well. Proving that, however, will be difficult. Diviners are notoriously hard to read through magical inquiry.”

“Maybe this will help.” Tzigone handed him a small packet. “I got this from Sinestra Belajoon’s room. She found it hidden in Procopio’s villa.”

“Oh?” he said cautiously.

Tzigone shrugged. “Sinestra had some notion about learning thieving skills. You might say she was my apprentice.”

“Sweet Mystra,” he groaned. “Twice-stolen proof is not much better than none at all.”

“That depends on the proof. This is mummy powder.”

Stunned enlightenment crossed Matteo’s face. “Only the Mulhorandi embalm their dead. That suggests Procopio was in collusion with the invaders! On the other hand, perhaps Procopio got this powder from a northern grave robber. It was once used as a base for paint-“

“Too late,” she broke in. “Andris already told that tale, and once was plenty. And really, do you see Procopio as a would-be artist?”

He conceded this point with a nod.

“Here he comes,” announced Tzigone. “This should be fun.”

Before Matteo could respond, Tzigone wriggled out of the bushes and headed for the tower. With a groan, he followed.

They met the wizard at the gate, his arms full of spellbooks. He stopped short, and his expression was cautious but not alarmed.

“Shame about the invisibility spell,” Tzigone said casually. “The damn things just never seem to hold up, do they?” Her gaze skimmed the wizard, and she lifted one eyebrow in a politely inquiring expression. “Out for a quiet stroll? A mug of breakfast ale and a little loot and pillage?”

Procopio’s face flushed and then hardened. “I am responsible for Halruaan justice in this city, and these items will be needed for the queen’s trial. I’m sure Dhamari Exchelsor would have wished it so.”

“You’re certainly in a position to know that,” she shot back. “This was Keturah’s tower before Dhamari stole her life. It’s mine now, and everything in it. Don’t think about poking around in Basel’s tower, either.”

“Two towers. Aren’t you the ambitious one?”

“I have two parents.”

“Both of them conveniently dead. In fact, many wizards have died of late.” Procopio’s black eyes narrowed. “Amazing, that their killers are so hard to trace. It痴 almost as if the murderer was magically shielded from inquiry.”

Matteo stepped between them, intercepting the wizard’s challenging glare. “I don’t like your implication.”

“I don’t give an Azuthan damn what you like or dislike,” the wizard retorted. “You’re a fool, jordain, if you can’t see beyond that pretty face to what lies within. Legend-legends in these very books-claim that dark elves slipped through the veil into Unseelie realms and came back as drow. What sort of monster did she become in the Unseelie Realm?”

Tzigone said quietly, “People become what they truly are.”

“What, in your particular case, might that be?” sneered Procopio.

Her chin came up. “There’s one way to find out, wizard. Meet me on the dueling field today at twilight.”

For a long moment Tzigone’s challenge hung heavy in the astonished silence. Then Procopio let out a startled laugh, which quickly settled into an arrogant smirk.

“This will be legal in every particular, so none can say I did murder. You, jordain, will bear witness the challenge was hers.”

He started through the gate, chuckling. Matteo quickly moved into his path. “The books,” he said simply.

Their eyes met in silent, furious struggle. Finally Procopio muttered an oath and let the priceless, ancient volumes tumble to the garden path. He stalked out without a backward glance.

Matteo turned to Tzigone, who stood regarding the books. “Right there is all the justification I’d ever need to squash him like a toad,” she muttered.

“Tzigone, what in the name of every god were you thinking? Procopio Septus is one of the most powerful wizards in Halarahh!”

“I know.” She glanced up. “Tell me what to do next”

He folded his arms and scowled at her. “Move to Cormyr?”

“You know what I mean. There’s got to be a stack of customs and protocols for this sort of thing.”

” ‘This sort of thing’ hasn’t been done for many years,” he retorted. “But yes, there are many defining rules. A challenge cannot be issued by a powerful wizard against one of considerably lesser rank. The spell battle challenge must take place on the old dueling field outside the city walls. I believe it’s been used in recent years as pasturage for a herd of crimson zebras-racing stock, mostly.”

“So I値l have to watch my step, in more ways than one,” she said. “What else?”

“The Council of Elders must bear witness to the competition. Given Procopio’s status, Zalathorm and Beatrix should be there as well.” He broke off and rubbed both hands over his face. “Tzigone, what will this serve?”

She stood for a long moment, collecting her thoughts. “I can’t be tested through magic. Not even Zalathorm will be able to take my word against Procopio. But if old Snow Hawk had anything to do with Kiva, if he had any part in Basel’s death, he’s going to die. It痴 that simple.”

He shook his head. “No, it isn’t. No one’s going to die, because you’re going to demand a mage duel.”

“What fun is that?”

“I’m serious, Tzigone! The path that begins with vengeance leads to grief!”

“I’m not interested in vengeance,” she said softly, “but destiny.”

Matteo fell back, startled at hearing so grim a concept fall from her lips.

“Your friend Andris would understand.” Tzigone raised a hand to cut off the jordain’s argument. “Hear me out. Kiva’s plans focused upon Keturah in some way I don’t fully understand. When my mother’s magic started to falter, Kiva passed my mother’s task on to me.”

“Even if that is so, why challenge Procopio?”

“Because of Kiva,” she persisted. “She wanted this-wizard fighting wizard. Men like Procopio and Dhamari are feeding it. If they think they’re going to get something out of it, they haven’t been paying attention. Kiva might be crazy, but she’s smart. She planned one diversion after another, whittling away at Halruaa’s wizards, diverting attention, dividing our strength. The Mulhorandi invasion caught us on the collective privy with our britches around our ankles.”

A faint smile flickered on Matteo’s face, but his eyes remained somber. “Thanks be to Mystra for that last image! For a moment I thought myself listening to a somber Halruaan princess.”

She bristled like a cornered hedgehog. “You think I’m challenging Procopio to prove something about myself?”

“Not at all. But I wonder if perhaps your challenge came from a sense of noblesse oblige. You are more Zalathorm’s daughter than you realize.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You weren’t listening the other day. Basel Indoulur was my father, and he didn’t trust Procopio any farther than he could spit rocks. Procopio wouldn’t face Basel, and maybe that’s another reason why this task falls to me. Enough talk,” she said abruptly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d handle the details. I need to prepare for tonight.”