'It is not, my queen,' he said at last 'There are matters yet to attend.'
'Very well.' She spoke as if his answer, or indeed his presence, was of no consequence to her. Her image winked out of the globe, leaving nothing but faintly glowing moonstone.
'Matters to attend?' demanded Ferris Grail. 'What might these be?'
Matteo gave the older man a respectful bow. 'Personal matters, my lord. If you have questions, please address them to my patron.'
This was as close to falsehood as Matteo had ever come. He did not actually claim that he did the queen's business, but his words could be interpreted as such. Ferris Grail raised one black eyebrow into a skeptical arch.
Vishna leaped from his chair and seized Matteo's arm. 'Well, then, you'd best be off,' he said heartily. 'You've lazed about here long enough.'
Matteo allowed the old wizard to hustle him out of the tower. When they reached the courtyard, he disengaged himself from Vishna's grasp and inclined his head in a grateful bow. 'That was kind of you. I had no wish to prolong that meeting.'
Vishna sent him a wistful smile. 'First listen to some advice, my son, then decide whether to thank me or not. You've many gifts, but lying isn't among them! If you're set upon learning this art, I'd suggest you'd practice before a mirror until you can school the guilt from your face!'
The wizard's tone was light and teasing, but Matteo could think of no response. What did one say when a trusted master spoke of competent falsehood as if it were a good and worthy goal?
As the silence stretched, Vishna studied the young man's face with growing concern. 'This unfinished business must be grave indeed.'
'No more than that before any jordain,' Matteo said shortly. 'I seek truth.'
'Ah.' The old man's wry smile acknowledged the reproof. 'The search for truth can take unexpected paths. Yours has put distance between you and the jordaini order.'
The man's insight startled Matteo.
'I have known you since you left the nursery to begin your studies. Never have I known you to give evasive answers. That speaks of faltering trust.'
Matteo could not disagree. 'If I offend, Master Vishna, I beg pardon.'
'No need.' The wizard patted his shoulder. 'The wise man does not trust easily or speak freely.'
'True, but suspicion wears at the soul, and so does silence. I miss the days when we could speak our minds plainly, without subtlety or hidden layers.'
'A child's privilege, Matteo. You are no longer a child.' Vishna's smile took any possible sting from the words. 'But let us indulge each other. What wears away at my former student?'
This time, Matteo chose his words more carefully. 'We jordaini are considered the guardians of Halruaan lore, yet there is much we haven't learned.'
'Ah. I suppose you have something specific in mind.'
'Several things. Why did we not learn the history of Halruaa's elves?'
'There are no elves to speak of,' Vishna pointed out.
'Precisely. Yet there were once many elves in the Swamp of Akhlaur and in the Kilmaruu Swamp. It seems odd that two such places-neither of which are ancient swamplands-should develop on the graves of elf settlements.'
Vishna gave him an indulgent smile and repeated the jordaini proverb about the Kilmaruu Swamp existing to keep the number of Halruaan fools down to manageable levels.
'Andris is no fool,' Matteo stated, 'and for that, Halruaa should bless Mystra. Haven't you noticed that Kilmaruu's undead rest easier?'
'Now that you mention it,' the wizard said thoughtfully, 'the farms and the coastlands bordering the swamp have been quiet of late. And this is Andris's doing, you say?'
'He prepared a battle strategy to rid the swamp of undead, and he presented it as his fifth-form thesis. I'm surprised you hadn't heard.'
'Hmmm.' The wizard considered this, his wrinkled face deeply troubled.
'The Jordaini College is less forthcoming with information than its reputation suggests,' Matteo continued. 'I have seen with my own eyes evidence that many elves once lived in Akhlaur's swamp. Why were we not taught this?'
Vishna spread his hands, palms up. 'Such things are difficult to study. Where elves are concerned, there is always more legend than fact. You might as well to try to fathom the truth of the Cabal!'
His tone was light and teasing, as if he named the ultimate example of futility, but Matteo was in no mood to be humored or indulged. He folded his arms and returned the wizard's smile with a level gaze.
'Perhaps both studies have merit.'
Vishna's smile faltered, and his eyes took on a shuttered expression.
'You do not agree,' Matteo persisted.
'No. The elves are gone, but for a few here and there. That is the way of nature. Before their time, dragons ruled. Their numbers are greatly diminished, yet they would not take it kindly if you attempted to harvest their eggs with the purpose of tending them until they hatched. Likewise, the elves would not thank you for interfering in their lives, and they would not welcome you if you tried to inquire into their history.'
'What of the Cabal? I've heard
'With good reason. The Cabal is a particular kind of legend,' Vishna said slowly. 'The sort that take shape over time, fashioned from whispers repeated so often that they begin to seem true.'
'Some say it is a deeply hidden conspiracy.'
Vishna snorted. 'Conspiracies are useful things. They distract shallow, lazy minds from the labor of true thought. Such people see dire warnings as proof of wisdom. We've both met Halruaans who would regard a cheerful sage as a blasphemer, or at best, a charlatan.'
'As the saying goes, never confuse a sour disposition with deep thought.'
'Just so, lad.' The wizard looked relieved by this return to familiar ground. 'So when are you off on the queen's business?'
'Tomorrow morning, at first light,' Matteo said. 'I will ride with Andris to Azuth's temple.'
The old wizard gave him a quizzical look. 'But Andris has left already.'
'What?'
His sharp tone startled Vishna. 'It's true,' he asserted, as if Matteo had challenged his veracity. 'The headmaster's window commands a clear view of the back kitchen gate. I saw Andris slip away while I was in conference with the headmaster. Why is this so strange? He has permission to leave, and the Temple of Azuth is expecting him.'
Matteo could not answer. He felt as if his throat was gripped in an iron golem's fist. He could accept that some of Halruaa's wizards kept dark secrets. He could fathom, just barely, that his beloved jordaini order might have had a part in keeping these secrets. That Andris, his dearest friend, could have told him a direct lie-this was beyond comprehension.
He spun on his heel. Vishna seized his arm. 'Don't, Matteo,' he said quietly. 'For the sake of your friend, pause and reflect I can't tell you why Andris went off alone, but this I know: You don't always need to understand your friends' choices, but you should honor them. Go back to Halarahh, and leave him to follow whatever destiny the goddess has given him.'
Matteo gently pulled free. 'Thank you for the lesson, Master Vishna,' he said, speaking the traditional words between jordaini student and teacher. 'Your words hold great wisdom, as usual.'
Relief flooded the wizard's face. 'Then you will return to court?'
'That is not the conclusion I drew from the lesson,' the young man said softly. 'What I heard you say was that it is not necessary to understand a man's choice but to honor it.' With a quick bow, Matteo turned and sprinted for the stables.
He snatched up tack and travel kit at the door. 'I'm taking Cyric,' he announced to the startled groom. 'I'll saddle him myself.'
The lad's sigh of relief was almost comic. Cyric, a black stallion of uncommon speed and vile temper, had
