The Magehound by Elaine Cunningham Page B

lucky to remember his own name. Very lucky.”
    She spoke the last words with a bitterness that surprised him. For a moment Matteo puzzled over how, and if, to address this. No inspiration came, so he dealt with that which he understood.
    “I would not have defeated the wemic without your help,” he said honestly. “The debt is paid.”
    He swung up onto Cyric’s back. The horse stood still for him, amazingly docile.
    No, Matteo noted, not docile. A better word was “satisfied.” It was as if the stallion had always longed to do battle and, having had the opportunity, was content for the moment. Matteo extended a hand to the young woman. “May I offer you a ride to wherever you’re staying?”
    Tzigone eyed the big horse uncertainly. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”
    The notion was so absurd that Matteo almost laughed. “I’m returning to House Jordain to complete my training. The jordaini serve truth. Forgive me for speaking bluntly, Tzigone, but there is no place for you there.”
    She didn’t seem daunted by his lack of encouragement. “There’s a debt between us. I can’t forget that. I never forget anything.”
    “I told you, the debt is paid.”
    “Because you say so? Is this the market, that we need to dicker?” she said testily. “Blankets and melons and such have no set price, but there are some things that do.”
    Matteo recognized the ring in her voice and the steel in her eyes. She spoke of honor, though in terms that he didn’t quite recognize or understand. He responded in kind.
    “Then when we meet again, I shall look to you for help and friendship,” he said. “You may claim the same of me, without adding to the sum of your honor debt.”
    For a moment she looked startled, and then a thoughtful expression crossed her face. “You say that I use words too lightly, and maybe I do, but it seems to me that you’re quick to speak of friendship.”
    Never had Matteo received so puzzling a response to the polite phrases he’d offered. It occurred to him that she might think he was suggesting something less than proper. “I meant no offense.”
    “And I took none. All I’m saying is that you’re quick to trust. Maybe that’s not such a good thing.”
    Amused now, he regarded her with lifted brows. “Are you warning me to beware of you?”
    She stood her ground, yielding nothing. “I’m reminding you that you thought I was a boy and assumed that all cats can climb. Not everything is as it seems, jordain.”
    There was truth in that, and though it smarted to acknowledge it, he responded with a respectful nod. “Thank you for your words,” he said, showing the respect he would give a master after a much-needed lesson. “Thank you also for the use of your sword.”
    She shrugged and walked gingerly around Cyric, eyeing the big horse with interest. Cyric turned his head to regard her, and his expression seemed equally wary.
    Matteo noted this exchange and found it rather fitting. He took up the reins and found that one had been sliced by the wemic’s sword. He dismounted to retrieve it and tie it back on. Cyric was nearly impossible to control under the best of circumstances, and he dared not attempt to guide the horse with only his knees.
    Tzigone watched as the young man bent over the repair. Moving like a shadow, she retrieved the sword that Matteo had flung aside. For a moment she regarded it and debated what to do. She couldn’t take it with her, that much was certain. Penalties for dressing or arming oneself above one’s station were severe, and the last thing Tzigone needed was another brush with the law. Swords were valuable, and in Halruaa, spells of seeking made sure that valuable objects didn’t stay “borrowed” for long.
    But she hated to leave the weapon in the street. Who knew who might pick it up and what use they might make of it? And judging from the day he’d had so far, Matteo was likely to need just such a sword before much more time passed. Certainly