The Floodgate - Elaine Cunningham [35]
"War usually results from a cessation of thought," Iago observed. "So I suppose your argument has some basis in logic."
"Logic," Themo sneered. "I liked it better when you called me a horse's arse."
Iago smiled. "Fortunate is the man who is content with what and who he is."
Though he spoke to Themo, he sent a long, somber stare in Matteo's direction.
Themo, whose enjoyment of a good insult surpassed his subtlety, heard the jest and missed the warning. Matteo marked it and would think of it often in the days to come.
The journey to Halarahh was swift and uneventful. The River Halar ran deep and fast, and the Azuthans' shallow keeled boat sped along the water like a lowflying swan. At the delta harbor, Matteo and Iago changed to a sea-going vessel.
Their captain hugged the coast, for far out over the lake sullen gray clouds grumbled and clashed like titanic dwarves roused too soon from slumber. By day's end the docks of Halarahh lay within sight.
The two jordaini leaned against the ship's rail and watched the gap between ship and city narrow.
"We have not spoken of your plans, Iago. Will you return to Procopio Septus?"
The small jordain shrugged. "No doubt Lord Procopio will release me to the first minor wizard who requests my service."
Matteo shook his head. "You are a noted battlemaster, and Lord Procopio is an ambitious man. He will not lightly let you go."
"He is ambitious," Iago agreed, "and because of his ambitions he cannot afford to be tainted by failure. Zephyr was Kiva's ally. I fought for her. Although the Jordaini Council declared me innocent of wrongdoing, in the eyes of many observers it may appear that both of Procopio's errant jordaini were hit by the contents of the same chamber pot"
"You fought the laraken and won," Matteo reminded him. "Your success may go far toward canceling out Zephyr's treason. Certainly it proves your battle prowess, something Lord Procopio values greatly. He's too ambitious to see such skills as yours wasted on a midwife or an apothecary."
Iago snorted. "In truth, I would rather serve a potion peddler than a warlord."
Warlord. The title hung heavy in the silence that followed its naming. Matteo nodded grimly. "So you see it, too. Procopio prepares to wear that mantle."
"Lord Procopio is ambitious," Iago repeated cautiously.
"War is often the path to power. Stay with Procopio if you can," Matteo urged. "He should be watched."
The jordain gave him an incredulous look. "What are you suggesting?"
Matteo considered his next words carefully, for he was picking his way through new and dangerous territory. "We jordaini swear many oaths, binding us to our patrons, to Halruaa, and to truth. What happens when these pledges conflict?"
"But-"
"Hear me out. What is our primary concern? Do we serve the ambitions of a single man? The good of the land? Truth? And what defines this 'good,' this 'truth?' Our own perceptions or those of our patron? Do we listen to the voice of conscience or the demands of ambition?"
Iago was silent for a long time. "You should be careful about speaking such thoughts, my friend. Some might call it treason."
"Others might call it honor," Matteo pointed out. "If we jordaini abandon honor, what good can we possibly do? Can we be Halruaa's guardians with no moral compass other than the whim of the wizard-lords? You know history. You know what wizardry ambition can do."
"We serve the wizard-lords," began Iago.
"Yes, and so do the message boys that carry word from the wizard's kitchen to the butcher. If we do everything we are bid, without thought, how are we any different?"
The small man fell silent. "I will consider your words, Matteo. Since you are a friend, I will not repeat them."
Iago spoke with great finality. Matteo was surprised, therefore, when Iago picked up the awkward threads of their conversation.
"You have spoken plainly. Will you hear some blunt words?"
"Of course!"
"You're quick to trust," the jordain observed, "and