For a moment the shock of hearing his dilemma given voice by Halruaa's king stole Matteo's wits and voice. He recovered and gave a diplomatic response. "The jordaini serve truth, your majesty. I trust that truth will serve both Halruaa and Queen Beatrix."

Zalathorm's face crinkled with disgust. "If I wanted meaningless sophistry, I'd talk to a politician! Just once I'd like to hear an answer rather than an evasion. If forced to chose, which would you serve: your patron or your homeland?"

The question was impossible to answer. Nevertheless, Matteo spoke without hesitation. "I pray that one choice will always favor both, Your Majesty, but should there be a conflict, I would serve Halruaa."

The king nodded slowly, not giving any indication of how he received this announcement.

"In fact," Matteo went on, "this very dilemma prompted me to seek this audience. Timonk, the queen's steward, summoned me back to the palace. His concern is not for the queen's health so much as her safety. He showed me his hand. He lost two fingers to one of the queen's clockwork devices."

"I see," Zalathorm said slowly. "No wonder you asked about Quertus. The truth is that Quertus was not killed by clockwork but condemned for harboring magic."

A sudden suspicion stabbed at Matteo. "Condemned, my lord? By any chance, was Kiva that magehound who passed sentence?"

There was a long moment of silence, then Zalathorm said, "It is possible."

"It would not be the first time Kiva condemned an innocent man to serve her own purposes. Nor would it be the first time Kiva's path crossed that of Queen Beatrix. This matter requires closer attention."

Zalathorm let out a single burst of unamused laughter. "I have heard the jordaini proverb that cobblers' children go barefoot. Are you suggesting that the diviner should tend his own household?"

"Respectfully, my lord."

The king's eyes frosted. "That is enough candor for one day, jordain. You may return to my queen and serve her as well as you can."

Chapter Eight

After leaving Matteo, Tzigone found a barrel of rainwater and washed the greasepaint from her face. She took a tightly rolled robe of sky blue silk from her bag, shook out the wrinkles, and shrugged it on over her ragged street clothes. Properly attired, she made her way back to the villa that Basel Indoulur kept in Halarahh for his frequents visits to the king's city.

A lone figure waited near the gate, seated in the lamp-lit alcove that offered shelter to passersby. Tzigone took one glance at the elegantly clad woman and spun on her heel, ready for a fast retreat.

"Don't go," Sinestra Belajoon called out. "I'll only find you again. Who's to say our next meeting won't be less private, and far less convenient?"

Tzigone considered. If this confrontation was not to be avoided, this was as good a time as any. The sky was velvet black, and the position of the stars proclaimed that midnight was near. Few people had reason to walk this quiet street, and most were already in for the night.

Reluctantly Tzigone turned back to her visitor. Not long ago, she'd pretended to be a wizard and a lady, slipping into Sinestra Belajoon's confidence so that the woman would introduce her to a certain snooty behir merchant. She had liked Sinestra, and didn't feel very good about deceiving her.

But Sinestra seemed to have taken this in stride. Her gaze swept over Tzigone's blue robe, and her painted lips curved in a half smile. "A conjurer's apprentice. Last time we met you were a full-fledged illusionist. Come down in the world, have you?"

"Depends. You should have seen me an hour ago."

Sinestra's eyes lit up. "I wish I had. I'm sure it would have been quite instructive."

Tzigone folded her arms. "Excuse me?"

The wizard handed her a bit of parchment. "This is a note from Cassia, the king's jordain. She wrote to me shortly before she was killed, naming you as a thief. Is there any truth to that?"

"She's dead. That's true enough."

Sinestra hissed with exasperation. "Do you see a squadron of the city militia cooling themselves in my shadow? If you admit to being a thief, I'll not only be discrete, I'll be thrilled!"

This strange encounter was beginning to make sense to Tzigone. "You want to hire a thief to retrieve something for you."

"In a manner of speaking. I want to hire a thief to teach me the trade."

Tzigone's gaze slid over the woman. Her hair was dressed in elaborate black ringlets. A fortune in blue topaz draped her bosom and matched the watered blue silk of her gown and slippers. "You don't need to steal. You already have more than you know what to do with."

"That's precisely the point! I have everything I could possibly want, and I'm bored out of my wits," the woman announced. She rose abruptly. "Walk with me."

They fell into step, walking in silence down the tree-lined street. After a few moments Tzigone got down to business. "What do you want to retrieve?"

"My sanity," Sinestra said bluntly. "I am afflicted with ennui-gravely afflicted, a mere heartbeat away from running screaming through the streets!"

"So do what other over-pampered noblewomen do. Take a lover."

Sinestra lifted one ebony brow. "I said I'm bored, not stupid. Might I remind you that I'm married to a diviner? Not a particularly powerful one, but he's got enough talent to indulge his suspicions."

"Short leash?" Tzigone commiserated.

The wizard hooked one finger under her necklace and tugged at it in a parody of a chokehold. "My lord Belajoon has encircled me with spells warding against such sport."

"So what makes you think you could make a thief?"

"Because old Belajoon doesn't expect it of me," Sinestra retorted. She sighed heavily. "By wind and word, I have to get away with something, or I'll go mad!"

Since Tzigone had spent the better part of the day as a street urchin, avoiding her wizardly studies in favor of one bit of mischief after another, this was a sentiment she understood. She gnawed her lower lip for a moment. "How serious are you about this?"

"How serious is a necromancer about death?" Sinestra shot back. "Teach me, and I'll do whatever you say."

Tzigone lifted one hand to her head and ruffled her shorn locks. "Would you cut your hair like this?"

The wizard paled. She stopped walking and squeezed her eyes shut. But after a moment she focused a resolute gaze upon her chosen mentor. "Yes," she said stoutly.

Tzigone grinned and patted Sinestra's arm. "Forget it. A thief needs to use every advantage she has. You'd be the center of attention in the midst of a wizardwar, just by showing up. We'll figure out a way to make that pay."

The older woman grimaced. "I thought I had. I hope you can come up with something more interesting."

In response, Tzigone handed her a small book. "As I recall, you enjoy gossip. These things always contain a few priceless nuggets."

Sinestra's eyes bulged when she recognized her own grimoire, a spellbook that contained a wizard's most personal spells and secrets. After a moment, she burst out laughing. "Oh, this is going to be great fun!"

"That's what I keep telling a friend of mine," Tzigone observed with a grin. "You're much easier to convince than he is."

Sinestra's brows lifted. "So there's a 'he, is there?"

"Lots of them," Tzigone said, dismissing Matteo with a sweeping wave.

"Smart girl. If I'd thought that way, I wouldn't be having these problems." The wizard linked her arm through Tzigone's.

The gesture was friendly, casual, but a spark of magic jolted through Tzigone. That puzzled her. Few spells could touch the wall around her. Conversely, she could sense nearly any spell, except that which her mother had cast long ago to block away her daughter's dangerous early memories-