Finally Matteo was called upon to speak for himself. He bowed first to Dimidis, then to the assembled court.
"All that you have heard against me is true. I thank Master Vishna for his words and for his compassion, but I must stand for my actions and not the circumstances that prompted them. I regret my infractions of jordaini law and will accept humbly whatever penalty this council assigns. I ask only that I might be permitted to ask the inquisitrix a question that has confounded me."
Dimidis looked pleased with Matteo's manner and his request. "You may speak."
Matteo turned a steady, challenging gaze upon the elf woman. "A dragon does not quit the skies to chase a rabbit into the thicket. Why then was the wemic Mbatu, a magehound's right hand and personal bodyguard, in pursuit of a young woman who has been described only as a tavern performer and common thief?"
Everyone in the room looked startled, then intrigued. "A good question," Dimidis said approvingly, looking at Matteo with the first sign of real interest. "Lady Kiva, we are most eager to hear your response. Most eager indeed. By your words, I had gathered that Matteo had fallen in with two scoundrels, not a single girl."
Fury flashed through the magehound's eyes, followed quickly by a flicker of indecision. Her cool mask was back in place so quickly that Matteo, had he not been studying her so intently, would have wondered if he'd imagined her initial response.
"There is nothing to explain," Kiva said in her cool, bell-like tones. "The girl is reputed to have a sharp and clever tongue, and the jordaini were not the only targets of her jests. She insulted Mbatu the day before. The wemic is quick to anger and quicker to attack. He tended his own business, not mine. For that, he has been duly rebuked. As to the misunderstanding about the girl's identity, please recall that I speak your language as a second tongue. I have not the precision of speech that a jordain employs. One scoundrel or two, the girl was the wemic's concern and not mine. I know nothing of her, and that is more than I care to know."
Dimidis looked faintly disappointed by this mundane explanation. "Then I suppose we're finished here. I have little choice but to dismiss the matter. Among the petitions for Matteo's services is one we could hardly ignore. Procopio Septus, Lord Mayor of Halarahh, finds himself in need of counsel."
Matteo's eyes widened at this most unexpected news. Procopio was a powerful diviner, the mayor of Halruaa's capital city and the captain of that city's skyship militia. This was a coveted position and one that far exceeded his aspirations for his first post.
For a moment pride surged, washing away some of the humiliation of the past few days. Then it occurred to him that this post would probably have gone to Andris, had he lived.
Even so, it was a far better fate than he had expected. Matteo dipped into a deep bow. "Humbly I accept this post, Lord Dimidis, if that is the council's desire."
"My wishes have little to do with this," Dimidis said in a sour tone. "Just see that you have no further cause to stand before the Disputation Table, and I will be content."
Several days passed as Matteo traveled to Halarahh, the capital of the land and the home of Zalathorm, the wizard-king. It was not so very far a distance as the raven flies, provided that a raven could be persuaded to fly across the lower edge of the Swamp of Akhlaur and brave the winds that roiled over Lake Halruaa.
The best and safest way to travel was by ship. Matteo set sail from Khaerbaal, skirting the coastline of the Bay of Taertal and moving along the western shores of Lake Halruaa.
The days passed swiftly, despite his increasing anticipation. Matteo had not traveled to Halarahh since his twelfth year. His first glimpse of the city, as the ship rounded the storm break, proved more than equal to his memories.
Much of the city was organized around the docks. But Halarahh was not like Khaerbaal, where prim rows of wooden docks jutted out into the sea and led to businesslike warehouses, inns, and taverns. The royal city had docks, certainly, and ships came and went briskly. But beyond the harbor was a wonderfully broad and open area, paved with colored stone and shaded by trees and fanciful pavilions. This was the site of colorful festivals, seasonal fairs, and open-air markets.
"What fair is currently running?" Matteo asked one of his fellow passengers, a merchant from the eastern foothills.
The man's eyes lit up. "The Monster Fair. It'll be a sight, if you've time to take it in. Good bull aurochs, for farmers who've got the pasturage to feed fuzzy elephants. Don't hold much with them myself. Meat's too gamey. Much prefer a good haunch of rothe."
A faint stab of disappointment assailed Matteo at this mundane description. "It's a market for cattle, then?"
"And everything else. The fancy lizards that ladies keep as pets these days. Birds from the Mhair Jungles. Griffon kittens, dragon eggs. If you can eat it, cage it, put it on a leash, or chop it up for spell parts, like as not it'll be there. I hear tell they've even got a unicorn up for bid."
It was on the tip of Matteo's tongue to ask which of these fates awaited the unicorn, but he decided he would rather not know. He thanked the man and went off to collect his few possessions.
The ship moved smoothly into the dock, and Matteo was met at the plank by men wearing jordaini white and distinctly unpleasant expressions. They looked him over in a manner that made Matteo suddenly sympathetic for the creatures in the market square.
"You're Procopio's latest?" one of them demanded.
"I am Matteo, and I am here to enter the service of Procopio Septus," he agreed.
"Well, come along," the speaker said grudgingly.
The men spun and stalked off, leaving Matteo to follow or not.
He was surprised by the less than enthusiastic welcome, but he was too fascinated by his surroundings to take much offense. Halarahh was a wondrous city, the largest in the land, home to nearly eight thousand souls. Yet as Matteo's escort led him through the market square toward the villa of Procopio Septus, he didn't once get the feeling of being in a close or crowded place.
The villas they passed were sprawling and spacious. Even the homes of middling folk boasted comfortable grounds filled with gardens and flowers. Public parks and gardens greeted them at nearly every turn. Wide streets opened into large courtyards, many of which housed open-air markets, smaller versions of the vast dockside square.
The city was comfortably cool, a welcome respite from the punishing sun of Matteo's sea journey. Perched on the northern banks of Lake Halruaa, the city sat at the confluence of two of the land's greatest rivers: Halar and Aluar. Soft breezes wafted off the waters and were captured and magnified by many innovative magical devices.
Although Matteo could not work magic, he had spent most of his life in study of it. Never, however, had he seen so much of it concentrated in one place. Almost half the inhabitants of the city were spellcasters, and at least three hundred made their livelihood by working magic. Wizards' towers leaped toward the azure sky, giving the city an aspect of a forest fashioned of marble and crystal and stone. Magical lamps lined the streets and enlivened the homes and shops. As they passed the open doors of some of the grander shops, they were treated to a soft caress from the soft, scented breezes that magically cooled the merchants and their customers. Flat-bedded carts trundled by at regular intervals, laden with magically created ice blocks that cooled folks of lesser means.
But what most amazed Matteo were the skyships. Although Halruaa was famed for these marvelous cloud-going vessels, Matteo had never seen one close at hand. His last trip to Halarahh had taken place during the winter, when most skyships kept close to land. He had observed the spring regatta at the Lady Day festivals that took place in every city in the land, but he had always seen the skyship display from a distance. It was considered unseemly for a jordain to be sprinkled with fortune-telling magic.
So he was vastly pleased when the road his fellow jordaini traveled led toward the docks where the ships came to roost. Several of the graceful ships wheeled through the sky as they traced the edges of the lake like fine ladies
on a summer evening's promenade. Each of the ships boasted three masts, plus a flying jib aft and two sails astern on swinging booms. The bodies of the ships were plated with armor from giant sea turtles, so from below they looked much the same. But much color and design had been lavished upon the sails.
"You're staring like a peasant," one of the jordaini observed coldly. "Have you never seen a skyship?"
"Never so close at hand. What stately grace," Matteo marveled. "They look rather like kites flown by giant, powerful children."
"A fine way to describe your new patron," observed a dry voice behind him.
Matteo turned. A short, thin man stood behind him, arms folded and head tilted to one side as he returned Matteo's gaze. The newcomer was a striking man, one who would draw eyes in a crowd despite his lack of stature. His nose was hooked like a hawk's, and his thick snowy hair had been cut exceedingly short so that it bristled about his head. His medallion proclaimed him a wizard of the divination school, and the ring on his hand was etched with the seal of the city: a triangle pointed downward with a star at the tip to represent the shape of the land on which Halarahh sat. Wavy lines etched over the whole completed the crest of the windswept city.
"Lord Procopio." Matteo swept into a formal bow.
The wizard waved aside this courtesy. "You took your time in coming, young man. The crew has been holding the skyship for your arrival."
This was an unexpected treat. Matteo's eyes lit up. Then his gaze darted to the other jordain for confirmation. They regarded him with narrowed eyes and scowls. Puzzled, Matteo turned back to his new patron. "You wish us to accompany you on the skyship?"
"Just you. Come aboard, unless you can fly on your own power," the wizard said tartly. He turned and strode toward one of the docked ships.
Matteo followed, studying the vessel with interest. The image of a long, sinuous snake had been painted in rainbow colors on the side of the ship and continued to coil its way up the foremost mainsail. The other sails depicted a starsnake's wings, and elaborate curved runes painted onto the hull confirmed that Starsnake was indeed the ship's name.
Lord Procopio led the way to the forecastle and twisted the gold and silver rod mounted there. The skyship rose gracefully into the sky, more rapidly than Matteo would have thought possible.
The wizard looked at him sharply. "You look surprised. Have you not learned the properties of such ships?"
"I have, my lord. Knowing is one thing, experiencing is quite another."
"True enough. How fast are we going?"
Matteo considered what he knew of the ships and calculated the effects of the winds off Lake Halruaa. "Seventeen knots," he said firmly, glancing toward the helmsman for confirmation.
The helmsman nodded. Procopio shrugged, unimpressed, and pointed out toward the center of the lake. "Take her out. Let's give our new counselor a bit of a challenge."
The man at the wheel looked none too happy, but he did as he was bade, leaning his weight into turning the heavy wheel.
This put Matteo in the uncomfortable position of needing to give advice before any was requested. He wondered that he would have to do so, for the dangerous winds of Lake Halruaa were proverbial. No ship sailed the interior of the lake, not on the surface and not in the air.
"Lord Procopio, if I am to fulfill my duty, I must advise you against going out over the lake," Matteo said respectfully.
Procopio's only response was to point toward another ship, skirting the shore and rapidly approaching them.
"That is the Avariel, owned by the conjurer Basel Indoulur. He is a reckless man, proud enough to consider himself my rival. If we engage him in challenge, he will not turn away."
Procopio turned to a blue scrying globe mounted on a pedestal and gestured over it. Clouds swam in the circular sky, then parted to reveal the face of his apparent rival. The man was portly, with pillowy cheeks and small, shrewd eyes. His black hair had been oiled and worked into many small braids that hung nearly to his shoulders. The wizards exchanged the expected pleasantries, then Procopio got down to business.
"Fine winds today, Lord Basel."
The image of the wizard nodded happily. "Aye. The Avariel is giving near to five and twenty knots. I wouldn't have thought the old girl could dance to so merry a tune."
"Small wonder. You sail deep into the lake winds."
"No deeper than you," Basel retorted. "If you've something on your mind, man, have out with it."
"A challenge. A contest of will and nerve."
Basel's eyes bulged, then he laughed. "A game of chicken, in other words. Come, Lord Procopio-a child's game?"
"Made interesting by a man's wager. Say, two thousand side? And I'm no such fool to suggest a collision course. A contest of skill and speed. The first to reach thirty knots takes it."
The wizard's small eyes glinted. "I'm not so good a friend that I won't take your money," he agreed, and then his image winked out of sight.
Procopio turned to Matteo. "Imagine that this is your first campaign. You will advise the general, who has been ordered to follow your counsel. The outcome of this battle is entirely in your hands."
Matteo longed to retort that this was a silly wager, not a battle worth fighting. To achieve those speeds, the ships would have to venture far out over the waters, where the winds were strong and unpredictable.
But the wizard had created the situation, and it was Matteo's duty to make of it what he could. He scanned the clouds and the shoreline as he ciphered the weight of the Starsnake.
"What crew does the Avariel carry?"
Procopio nodded his approval of this query. "Same as Starsnake, to the man. Six and twenty. The skyships were built by the same shipmaster, and the rods of levitation were enchanted by the same wizard. The ships are sisters. This contest will not be determined by the vessel, but by the wisdom of the captains."
Matteo was tempted to point out that a wise man didn't take such large risks for sport or pride. Young as he was, he understood that not all truth should be spoken aloud. He turned to the helmsman, a thin, balding man nearly a head shorter than the wizard. "Your name, sir?"
The man blinked, obviously surprised by the question and the courtesy. "Spalding, m'lord, an' it please ye."
"You do me too much honor," he said with a smile. "Procopio Septus is the only lord here. My name is Matteo."
"As ye will, m'… Matteo."
"Thirty degrees toward starboard, Spalding."
Procopio scowled as the ship turned and slowed. "You're heading back toward shore. That's a coward's course, and certain defeat Turn back into the lake winds, if you've the stomach for it!"
Being chided for a coward stung, but the jordain shook his head and studied the shoreline. "Hold steady, Spalding. On my mark, turn hard to starboard. Head directly to the shore by the shortest route and hold course. Trim the sails as needed to maintain speed."
The helmsman blanched, but he faithfully relayed the order to the crew who manned the ropes. Matteo waited until the moment was right, then bade the man turn. The ship swung in a slow, ponderous arc, losing speed as she went.
"Bold move!" Procopio taunted.
For a moment the sails fluttered slack. Then, as Matteo expected, they snapped taut and the ship leaped forward.
The wizard's brow furrowed with puzzlement. "This course seems destined to take us directly into the Avariel's path."
"That is my intent."
Procopio stared at him, slack-jawed with astonishment. He shut his mouth with an audible click and shook his head. "You've gone mad. I've seen it before. Some men just can't fly-the thin air addles their thinking. I'm taking over command, Spalding."
"No," Matteo said calmly. He noticed the speculative gleam in his new patron's eyes, and at this moment he understood that this was not pointless folly, but a test. If he meant to win Procopio's respect, he had to see this through. "You bade me win this battle for you, and that is precisely what I am doing."
"Victory is sweet, but I'd ra
ther have my ship, whole and skyworthy!"
"Then stand by. To turn aside now would be dangerous." To add weight to his words and to signify the seriousness of his intent, Matteo stepped between the incredulous wizard and the helmsman. He held the little man's eyes with an unflinching gaze, one that held a different sort of challenge. This was clearly not what Procopio had been expecting. The wizard's face turned purple with a mixture of anger and bruised pride. He could not compel Matteo by magic, and it was equally certain that he could not enforce his will by strength of arm. Procopio stepped back, his eyes black with anger, and began the gestures of a spell that would sidestep the jordain and impose his will on the helmsman.
Matteo recognized the spell and deftly countered it. He seized the wizard's right wrist and swept it up high, then hooked his thumb around the small finger of the left. This altered the gestures, turning the intended spell into a harmless illusion. Colored lights began to dance upon the sail, casting images of lithe women dancing in a circle, dressed in the feathers of the painted starsnake's wings. Procopio dropped his hands to his sides and stared incredulously at the flickering image, all that remained of his interrupted spell.
"You take too much upon yourself, jordain. An enormous risk, with a ship not your own! Do you know the worth of such a vessel?"
Matteo told him precisely what it was worth, give or take a handful of gold pieces. The flash of surprise in the wizard's eyes told Matteo that he had hit the mark. But more truth remained unspoken, and Matteo didn't shrink from it. "Great risks were taken, that is true, but not by me."
Procopio's eyes narrowed, but his expression remained unreadable. "How so?"
"I spoke against venturing over the lake. The winds are strong and unpredictable. Once you determined to follow this course of action, my task was to keep you alive. I turned at the proper time, not before. It was not cowardice but calculation. Will you let me finish the task you gave me without further interference? If not, speak now. Soon there will be no time for disputation."
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