Forgotten Realms Counselors & Kings 01 The Magehound

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surroundings than usual.
Such weakness was often fatal and always dangerous. Like fear, inattention
seemed to draw predators as blood in the water summoned sharks. From the
corner of her eye, Tzigone noted that a street urchin had fallen into step with her,
just slightly behind her and out of the normal range of vision.
For a moment Tzigone's throat tightened. The furtive, hollow-eyed child was
a reminder of her early years and a mirror of what she had been forced to
become. But that didn't stop her from seizing the thin, seeking hand that reached
for her bag.
Tzigone spun the boy around, flinging him against the back wall of a
milliner's shop. She caught him by surprise, and tossing him about was easy to
do. But not until she had him pinned against the wall did she realize that the boy
was fully her height and probably nearly as strong. That realization didn't change
her intention in the slightest.
She turned his grimy hand palm up and slapped into it a coin, one of the skie
that the starsnake's skin had brought her.
"You need a few lessons," she hissed. "Gwillon over on Low Street is looking
for an apprentice. Give him this and mention my name...."
She had to think for a moment before the name of the child thief she'd once
been came back to her. "Tell him that Sindra says you have promise."
The lad eyed the coin, then lifted an awed gaze to hers. That single skie
might be more riches than he'd held in five moons, but the name was worth far
more to him. Gwillon was a master pickpocket and a legend among the shadows
of this city. The man was getting along in years, but his training might be enough
to keep this lad alive. Justice in Halruaa was swift, and few thieves were caught
twice. She'd given the boy a rare second chance, and he knew it.
The boy fisted his hand around his apprentice fee and darted off in the
direction of Low Street. Tzigone nodded approvingly and went on through the
back way to the shop where she was currently employed.
Chimes sang musically as she opened the door. Tzigone glanced up,
marveling anew that something so beautiful could be made from the sort of
scraps that a butcher might toss to stray dogs. Behir's bones. Who would know
by looking at the ugly creatures that they housed such fey beauty?
Halruaans were never content to leave any creature as nature intended, and
behirs were a special target of their breeding programs. Miniature behirs of
various sizes were raised for purposes ranging from moat guardians to exotic
nets, but like pigs and poets, they garnered most of their acclaim after their
deaths. Their primary purpose was spell components.
It seemed that nearly every part of a behir was good for something. The long,
slender horns that flowed back from their heads were ground into powder and
added to ink used in writing out spell scrolls for various lightning spells. Their
talons and hearts went to making inks that were used to create spells offering
protection from poison. Even the mundane uses of their leavings were
marvelous. Their bones were crystalline and were used for scrimshaw. Like
musical ghosts, the behir bones sang at the doors and windows of Halruaan
homes long after the flesh that had clothed them was distant memory. The teeth,
however, gave rise to the most creative uses. They were translucent and
multicolored, often imitating and rivaling the hue and sparkle of gemstone.
Tzigone crept silently to a large, oddly shaped wooden box that stood on a
three-legged stand. It was a musical instrument, a special creation of Justin, the
artificer who owned this shop. Inside the box were strings fashioned of behir's gut
and electrum wire, and on the wide end of the box was a row of neat ivory keys.
When one of the keys was pressed, a curved fang was lifted by a complex series
of levers until it plucked at the string. The sound varied greatly, depending upon
what instrument the musician called to mind. These instruments were much in
demand in the city, and Justin was building another, his back to Tzigone and his
attention wholly absorbed by his work.
She chose a sound and struck the key attached to the lowest, thickest string.
The behir's fang flashed up, and the electrum cord vibrated. A deep, full-throated
sound reverberated through the room-not a musical instrument, but a wemic's
roar.
Justin leaped and spun in one quick, startled movement His glare melted into
a reluctant smile as he met Tzigone's grin.
"A good jest," he conceded. "But bear in mind, boy, that not everyone cares
to be the brunt of your mischief. Keep it up and you'll come to grief soon or late."
Tzigone had learned early in life that letting people think she was a boy was
safer, if marginally so, than being seen as a young woman alone. "What can I do
today?"
"Behirs need feeding. There's a clutch of new hatchlings to record, too.
Three of them, and fine beasts all. Ethan's brood, out of Blue Bess."
She followed him out into the back, where a series of long narrow pools
housed the creatures. Sure enough, three new behirs, each not much bigger
than a cat, lounged on the sunning rocks. All of them were covered with soft
scales of the light topaz blue that Justin favored, and all had only six legs. Each
would develop another three or four pairs before adulthood. They had yet to grow
horns, and but for their length and color, they looked very much like sky-colored
crocodiles.
Justin watched Tzigone as she chopped fish and eels. She clicked her
tongue, and the miniature monsters came to her like obedient hounds, swarming
about the wall as she tossed them their food. The babies had to be nearly hand-
fed, an exceedingly dangerous task for anyone whose fingers were less fleet
than Tzigone's. The hatchlings' teeth, already gem-colored and sharp as needles,
flashed and snapped as they ate.
The artificer nodded approvingly. "You've a sure, quick hand with the beasts.
I could use an apprentice, especially when it comes to the slaughtering.
Gathering and treating spell components can be tricky work. Have you been
tested for magic?"
The question was rhetorical. Every child in Halruaa was first tested before
the age of five, and often thereafter until his or her talents and destiny were
decided. Tzigone had sidestepped the formal process and learned whatever
skills suited her needs and caught her fancy.
"I've less magic than a stone," she lied in a rueful tone. "Ah." Justine looked
both disappointed and uncomfortable. It was not exactly a disgrace to lack
magical talent in Halruaa, but except in the case of the jordaini, neither was it an
honor. "Well, someone has to cook the soup," he said in a conciliatory tone,
falling back on a familiar proverb.
Tzigone gritted her teeth and forced herself to smile and nod. She hated
proverbs, and nothing annoyed her more than people who were so lazy or
lacking in imagination that they allowed their words to travel only well-worn paths.
Jordaini were often the worst. And here she was, indebted to a particularly
arrogant member of the breed.
So far today she'd been stung by a starsnake, chased by a wemic, and
indebted to a jordain. And to cap matters, here she was, up to her elbows in fish
guts.
Tzigone shrugged. Chances were, tomorrow could be worse.
When all the behirs had been fed, she went into the back room to record the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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