The Magehound - Elaine Cunningham [112]
"What place is this?" Matteo asked in a whisper. There was something about the place, pleasant though it was, that inhibited the spirit.
"Go inside," Tzigone said.
Matteo paused at the doorway and spoke the traditional pledge tradition required of all Halruaans, swearing that no magic would be worked within this house.
"Do not mock me," said a small, anguished whisper.
He came fully into the room and peered into the shadows that lingered by the unlit hearth. A woman huddled there, curled up on a chair like a weeping child.
"That was not my intention, mother," he said softly, using the polite form for unknown women of her apparent years. "My words were a greeting such as any might speak. They are also truth, for I am jordaini."
The word hit her like an arrow. She looked up, her eyes wild in her white face. "A jordain!"
Matteo couldn't comprehend her distress, but he had no wish to add to it.
"Your pardon, good mother." he said, bowing. "We will go."
The mad light faded from the woman's eyes, leaving her face listless and dull. "Go or stay. It matters not."
Tzigone shoved at him from behind, prompting him farther into the room.
While Matteo stood, feeling awkward and helpless, she bustled about, opening the shutters to let in the sun, plumping up cushions, building up the hearth fire, and putting water and a handful of herbs in the kettle. She brought the woman a cup of tea and curved her thin hands around it, guiding it to her lips until memory took over and the woman drank on her own. Through it all, Tzigone kept up a soft, steady stream of chatter-gently humorous tales of life in the city beyond these walls, entertaining stories that probably had no basis in reality.
Matteo listened with only partial attention as he watched the girl tend this unknown woman. And he knew, without understanding the reason, that his choice that day had been the right one.
Finally the woman drifted into sleep. Tzigone pulled a thin blanket over her and rose. Her eyes were bleak as she met Matteo's considering gaze.
"You are kind," he said softly.
She shrugged this aside impatiently. "There is little that anyone can do for her, other than the odd small kindness."
That the poor woman was insane was obvious to Matteo. "What happened, to shatter her so?"
"Magic," Tzigone said grimly, gazing at the pale, wasted face. "Once this woman was a powerful wizard, married to another wizard in a match made by still another. It was predicted that a child of their blood would likely be jordain.
"The woman wanted children of her own to keep and love, but she was assured that only one jordain was ever born to a family. So she did her duty and consented to the match.
"Time passed, but there was no child. She and her husband were greatly concerned. He offered to bring potions for her that would bolster her health and promote conception. For nearly five years, this continued. What the woman never knew," Tzigone said in a tight, angry voice, "was that she was taking potions that twisted the natural course of her magic and that of the child she would bear. All of the power that might have become magic was refocused, so that her child might have great talents of mind and body."
The words seemed too fantastic for belief. "Is this one of your stories?" he asked tentatively.
Tzigone focused her eyes on his and let him judge what he saw in them.
"The magic wasn't just taken from the potential child, but from the mother.
Little by little, her gift dwindled away, retreating to a place within herself that she could no longer reach.
"When the child was born, the process was complete. The birth was difficult, as such births invariably are, and the midwife pronounced that the woman would never bear another child. At one blow, the woman lost her babe, her dream of a child to keep, and all of herself that was bound up in her magic. This proves too much for most women to bear. They become as the woman you see before you."
Matteo absorbed this in silence. He didn't doubt Tzigone's