He searched for some physical resemblance between them and found none. Basel's hair was black as soot, his nose straight and small, his skin a light olive tone. Like most jordaini, Matteo was as fit and strong as a warrior, and at six feet he was tall for a Halruaan. His hair was a deep chestnut with red highlights that flashed in the sunlight like sudden temper. His features were stronger than the wizard's, with a firmer chin and a decided arch to his nose. If this man was indeed his sire, the evidence could not be read in their faces.
"How may I serve the queen's counselor?" Basel asked, breaking a silence that had grown too long.
Matteo produced the medallion. "A jordain is forbidden to carry magical items. Can you tell me if this holds any enchantment and if so, what manner?"
The wizard took the charm and turned it over in his pudgy hands. His jeweled rings flashed with each movement. "A simple piece."
"But does it hold magic?"
Basel handed it back. "A diviner could give you a more subtle reading. You served Lord Procopio. Why not go to him?"
Matteo picked his words carefully. "Recently I attempted to speak with Lord Procopio concerning Zephyr, a jordain in league with the magehound Kiva. I am attempting to learn more about Kiva and thought this a reasonable path of inquiry."
"Ah." Basel lifted a hand to his lips, but not before Matteo noted the quick, sardonic smile. "Knowing Lord Procopio, I assume he had scant interest in pursuing this topic."
"None that I could perceive."
"He will be keenly attuned to anything that hints of further inquiry. If you came to him with a talisman, he would immediately assume it was part of your search."
In an odd way, perhaps it was. A protective talisman would explain why Keturah had managed to escape capture for so long. "Can it be magically traced?"
Basel gave him a quick, lopsided smile. "If so, it would be very poor protection."
"Indeed." Matteo rose, intending to thank the wizard and go.
His host halted him with an upraised hand. "Your eyes say that you're unsure whether to trust me or not. That shows caution. You didn't go to Procopio. That shows wisdom. If my old friend is angry with you-and I don't need a diviner's gift to know how likely that is-he might report you for carrying a magical item or demand that you turn it over to him at once. It would be within his rights and power to do so."
"As it is in yours."
"True enough," Basel admitted. "You have little reason to trust me. Yet here you are. If you believe nothing else I've said, believe this: If there were any danger in that medallion, if there was any possibility that it would bring harm to Tzigone in any way, it would never leave this room."
Matteo could not keep the surprise from his face. The wizard nodded confirmation. "Yes, I know that Tzigone is Keturah's daughter. I knew Keturah, and I recognize her talisman. It served her well for far longer than I thought possible."
The jordain's mind raced. "Will others recognize it? Could it establish a connection between Tzigone and Keturah?"
"Unlikely. Keturah acquired the talisman just before she flew Halarahh. We were childhood friends. She came to me in need a few times after her escape."
The enormity of this revelation stunned Matteo. If all that Dhamari Exchelsor said of Keturah was true, then Basel had defied Halruaa's laws and risked death to help her.
"Does Tzigone know any of this?"
"No," Basel said emphatically. "Since she is so determined to find out about her mother, I decided to guide her steps. She would have found her way to Dhamari Exchelsor in time. When I suggested that she send a trusted friend, I rather thought she would ask you."
"Did you expect me to come here?" As he spoke, Matteo half wished that this would prove true.
The wizard considered, then shook his head. "No, but I am glad you did. Having met Tzigone's friend, I feel easier for her."
Matteo could not miss the sincere affection in the wizard's eyes. "You care for her."
"Like a daughter," Basel agreed. "To ease your mind in turn, I tell you in confidence that I'll do whatever is necessary to protect her from the stigma of her birth. If she is discovered, I will claim paternity."
For the second time that day, the world shifted under Matteo's feet. For Basel to claim paternity would mean admitting that he'd seen Keturah after her escape. This was against the law, as was siring a child of two wizard lines outside the boundaries of Halruaa's carefully controlled lineage. Either offense meant certain disgrace. Yet Basel Indoulur was prepared to do this for Tzigone's sake. For a moment, Matteo actually wished that this good man truly was his father.
But would a good man stand by while his wife destroyed her mind and magic to ensure that she bore a jordaini babe? Matteo's training taught him that service to Halruaa came first. Perhaps Basel had once believed this and learned that other vows lay deepest in his heart.
Another thought hit him, an aftershock no less jarring than the quake that proceeded. What if Basel's claim was actual truth? What if the wizard was Tzigone's father? If that were so, perhaps Matteo's friend was also his sister! As Matteo considered this complex marvel, he found that he did not want to reject these possibilities out of hand. If he were able to do so, he would claim this unlikely family with pride. He searched the wizard's face for a similar epiphany and found none.
"I've seen lightning-struck men who looked less stunned than you," Basel said with a faint smile. "Yet we are not so different. I suspect that one of your reasons for seeking Kiva so diligently is that she obviously knows of Tzigone's heritage. You don't want her hurting Tzigone any more than she has."
Matteo blinked. "I had not thought of it in those terms."
"Sometimes the hardest truth to see is the one within." The wizard spoke the jordaini proverb with the air of long familiarity.
They spoke for a few minutes more, and Matteo took his leave. On impulse, he gave the driver the name of a place he had visited but once. The horses trotted swiftly to the west, through rows of fashionable houses magically grown from coral, on through neighborhoods of dwindling wealth and prestige. Finally they stopped at a tall, stonewalled garden.
He passed through the gate and walked swiftly to the cottage he and Tzigone had visited. The door was ajar. He tapped lightly and eased it open.
A woman stood by the window, gazing out at the small garden beyond, her arms wrapped tightly around her meager form.
"Mystra's blessing upon you, mother." It was merely the polite address for women of her age, but the word felt unexpectedly sweet on his lips.
The woman turned listlessly toward him. Matteo fell back a step, his breath catching in an astonished gasp.
She was not the same person.
"What did you expect?" demanded a soft, furious voice behind him.
Matteo turned to face a woman dressed in a servant's smock. Her face was round and soft, and it would have been pretty but for the grim set of her mouth.
She nodded at his jordaini medallion. "If one of you comes around asking questions, any woman he meets is moved to another place. Don't you think these women have suffered enough, without losing their homes? Now this woman, too, will be moved. Moved again, if need be, until you and yours finally leave her be."