Thornhold (24 page)

Algorind looked at him in puzzlement. “No, I had no wish to offend. Why do you ask?”

Jenner chuckled dryly and shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s just get us to Waterdeep the fastest way we can—or let me put it better, the fastest way your scruples will allow.”

Lath in the afternoon, two days after the fall of Thornhold, Bronwyn led her new companion into the Curious Past. When they entered the shop, the dwarf looked around in begrudging wonderment at the old and rare things that crowded the shelves and tables in glittering display.

“Lot of dusting to do,” he concluded gruffly.

A loud huff announced Alice Tinker’s presence. The gnome rose to her full height, her brown face peering over the rim of the large brass vase she’d been polishing, her small form quivering with indignation. “Dust, nothing! I challenge you to find a single pot, gem or book in this entire place that isn’t polished to a gleam.”

Ebenezer folded his arms. “If I were a betting sort of dwarf, I still wouldn’t take that one. You can stuff that so-called challenge in the who-cares bucket and take it on out to the slop heap.”

“Alice, meet Ebenezer Stoneshaft,” Bronwyn said dryly. “He’ll be with me for a tenday or two.”

The gnome’s face went wary “And staying where?”

“Neither of us are staying. A bath and a meal, and we’ll be on our way.”

Alice huffed. “Well, by the looks of you, child, you could certainly use a good meal.” Her eyes slid disdainfully over the dwarf, leaving the last part of her insult unspoken.

Bronwyn noted this exchange with great puzzlement. Alice was the most genial of souls; it was not like the gnome to so mistreat a visitor to Curious Past. She was about to admonish her assistant when she noticed the delighted battle gleam in the dwarf’s eye. He had spoken little on the journey south, and she’d given him silence and time to deal with his loss. Judging by the animation on his face, maybe she would have done better to pick a fight or two with him.

“Grow a beard, woman,” Ebenezer gruffly advised Alice. This comment baffled Bronwyn, but Alice seemed to understand it perfectly. The gnome’s eyes widened, then turned coy, and bright color bloomed on her already rosy cheeks.

Belatedly, Bronwyn got the point. Dwarven women were as bearded as their men. Apparently, Ebenezer was expressing his approval of Alice’s gruff reception, even flirting with her a bit. Bronwyn cast her eyes toward the ceiling—which, despite Alice’s claims, was liberally festooned with cobwebs. “Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

The gnome collected herself. “Your friend Lord Thann has found excuse to stop by, or send someone on his behalf, at least thrice a day. He seems most concerned about you.”

“I can just imagine,” Bronwyn muttered. “I suppose he has been watching me and reporting back to Khelben all this time, too. No offense meant, Alice,” she added hastily when she saw hurt and self-reproach creep into the gnome’s eyes.

Watching. Reporting back.

Suddenly something else occurred to Bronwyn, something that widened her eyes with shock and fury. When she had wanted to identify herself to her father, she named her telltale birthmark. Surely that identifying mark was one measure used by those who once searched for Hronulf’s missing daughter. The Harpers might have heard of the search, and remembered that birthmark. Was it possible that the invitation to join the Harpers, to move to Waterdeep and work under Khelben Arunsun’s direction, was not motivated by the skills she could bring to the Harpers, but by who she was?

All these years, she had searched so desperately for her family, and they had known.

If that was so, then the brief days and nights of merriment that she and Danilo had shared several years before suddenly took on new and ominous meaning. And with that realization came a stab of betrayal so painful that it almost sent her to her knees. Danilo had known who she was-or at least suspected. By the time he left Amn, he knew beyond doubt.

“Oh, my god and goddess,” she whispered in a appalled voice, stunned by this duplicity in a man she had long called friend. “Sweet sister Sune.”

“Some might think it’s a bit early in the day to be invoking the goddess of love and beauty,” observed a familiar, languid male voice behind her. “Myself, I see no reason to put off what I might want to do again later.”

This observation, coming on the heels of her sudden and disturbing insight, raised Bronwyn’s temper past boiling. She fisted her hand and spun toward the shop door, swinging out high and hard.

Danilo dodged the blow and caught her wrist. “Really! Is that any way to greet an old friend?” he chided her.

Bronwyn wrenched her arm from his grasp and backed away. “You son of a snake,” she said in a low, furious tone.

“An.”

Just that. He didn’t bother to ask her what she meant. Of course not. But if Bronwyn had not known what a chameleon her fellow Harper could be, she would have sworn there was real regret in his eyes.

He took a step toward her, one hand held out in entreaty. “Bronwyn, we need to talk about that.”

“The hell we do. Get out of my shop.”

Ebenezer came to stand beside her, and the expression on his bearded face suggested an entire battalion taking flank position. He folded his arms and looked Bronwyn’s visitor up and down. He snorted when his gaze fell on Danilo’s jeweled sword. When his scrutiny was completed, his upper lip curled, leaving no doubt concerning his opinion of the faired-haired dandy. “Haven’t killed anyone today,” he announced. “Might be I ought to, just to keep in practice.”

“Hold that thought,” Bronwyn told him, secretly rather touched that the dwarf would come to her defense without question or hesitation. It helped a little, especially when all her perceptions and alliances seemed to be shifting, and her emotions in such chaos that she couldn’t think things through with her usual clarity.

But at that moment, another disturbing piece molded itself into the spreading puzzle. It suddenly occurred to Bronwyn to wonder about the reason for the Harpers’ recent, intense interest in her. Did Khelben suspect the Zhentarim had designs on her father’s keep? If the Harpers had known and had done nothing to stop it, then she was finished with the lot of them!

She whirled back to Danilo, her pain over his earlier transgression forgotten. “How much of this did you know?”

He spread his hands, palms up. “I swear to you, Bronwyn, I had no idea who you were when we met in Amn,” he said earnestly, “nor did I know of your lineage until a few days ago. There was no subterfuge or design in our friendship. We were young and congenial. When I vouched for you as Harper many months later, I did name your distinguishing marks. Such things are important for a Harper Master to know, and when Khelben asked the question I thought nothing amiss. I told him, but I made no mention of how this knowledge was acquired.”

“Ever the gentleman,” she sneered. “But that’s a small thing. A few moments ago, I wouldn’t have thought so. This new betrayal outshines all that went before.”

This clearly took him aback. “What is this about?”

“You deny it still!” Furious now, she snatched up a carved ivory statue and hurled it at him. It missed and crashed into the lintel, breaking into several pieces. “You killed my father! If you hadn’t withheld information, he might still be alive.”

Bronwyn was raving and knew it, but she was beyond caring. The bitter words tore from her like living things determined to be born, regardless of the pain of their birthing.

Danilo stooped and gathered up the ivory bits; Bronwyn suspected he wished to buy time to gather his composure and shape his next remarks. But when he rose, his face was still bewildered. “Bronwyn, what is going on?”

“Tell me this: did you know that Thornhold would come under attack?”

Danilo looked honestly and thoroughly stunned by this news. He sank down to sit on a carved chest, and he rubbed both hands over his face. “Thornhold was attacked?” he echoed.

“And taken,” she said shortly.

From the corner of her eye Bronwyn noticed that Shopscat was showing keen interest in her visitor’s ear-cuff and was starting to edge closer for the attack. Out of habit, she started to grab for the raven—then thought better of it and left the bird alone to do as it willed.

“The fortress of Thornbold is now held by the Zhentarim,” she said, her voice gaining volume and passion as she spoke. “Isn’t that why Khelben Arunsun was so concerned about my dealings with Malchior? He was afraid I might give away family secrets, is that it? Or perhaps you thought I was in collusion with the Zhentarim?”

“Not that. Never that.” Danilo rose and took a step toward her. His progress was halted when a very angry dwarf stepped between him and Bronwyn.

“Back away,” Ebenezer growled. He reached up and thumped the Harper’s chest with his stubby forefinger. “Seems to me the lady of this here shop told you a ways back to git. And you ain’t got yet. Now, I see a problem there that we could solve one of two ways.”

The Harper took a long breath and exhaled with a sigh. “I have no quarrel with you, good sir. Bronwyn, even if you are content to lay to rest the old matter, we must discuss this new one. Send word, when you are ready.”

Her only response was a stony stare. After a moment Danilo nodded a silent farewell and left, unwittingly evading the quick stabbing attack of Shopscat’s beak.

“I could get to like that bird,” Ebenezer observed, eyeing the raven with grim approval.

Danilo strode through the streets toward Blackstaff Tower, hands clasped behind him and brow deeply furrowed in thought. He caught a glimpse of himself in the polished glass of a milliner’s shop window, and the sight pulled him up short. It took him a moment to realize what bothered him about the reflected image. He had seen that stance before, and the expression was a mirror image of that he’d often beheld on the visage of the archmage he served.

“I have been at this business far too long,” Danilo murmured as he took off down the street again, this time at a saunter.

He found the archmage at his table, which did nothing to brighten his mood. Khelben had a perverse fondness for such foods as pottage of lentil, thick oat porridge, and fruit unadorned by pastry or sugar. If that was the secret of the archmage’s long life, Danilo fervently hoped to die when his naturally allotted span was through.

As they exchanged greetings, Danilo selected a ring of dried apple from a tray. He sat down across from the archmage, munching the leathery fruit as he pondered how best to pass along the dire message Bronwyn had hurled at him. Danilo had given his word to Alice, albeit tacitly, that he would not report to Khelben word of Bronwyn’s trip to Thornhold. Nor would he tell the archmage that Bronwyn was back in the city. Khelben would find that out soon enough. Danilo’s days of reporting on his old friends were over.

A simple ruse came to him. Nothing annoyed Khelben more than reference to Danilo’s bardic pursuits. Perhaps that very pique would serve to keep the archmage from examining the tale too closely.

“I heard a most amazing ballad last night at the Howling Moon,” Danilo began, naming a new tavern popular with traveling bards of all stripe. “The singer describea the fall of Thornhold and claimed that this dire event occurred but two days past. I am inclined to believe him, Uncle. I do not wish to criticize a fellow bard, but the song sounded rather hastily composed.”

Khelben stared at him for a long moment. “Wait here,” he commanded.

The archmage rose and swept from the room. In Khelben’s absence, Danilo nibbled away at the plate of dried fruit and studied the dining hall. There was not overmuch to see. Polished wood covered the walls, and the stone floor had been neatly strewn with fresh rushes mingled with sweet-smelling herbs, as was the custom. The room was dim and cool, lit only by the light that filtered in from the ever-shifting windows. The archmage had remarkably simple habits and insisted that there was no need to waste candles unless they were needed for reading.

Khelben returned in moments, his visage even grimmer than the reflection of his own face that Dan had glimpsed in the shop window.

“It is as you say,” the archmage said. “How could such a thing occur without word or warning? How could a siege force of sufficient size march not more than two days’ ride north of this city and no one notice anything amiss? What good are we doing here in Waterdeep?”

The last question was a challenge, leveled at the Harpers in general and Danilo in particular, and delivered with the force of a thrown lance.

“It is possible,” Dan ventured, “that the Zhentarim have been preparing for this attack for a longtime. There would be no time better, given the coming of the spring fairs and the heavy traffic on the High Road. Soldier and horse could easily be disguised as part of a merchant caravan and could pass unnoticed. Small groups could slip away into the hills and mountains and gather at the appointed time.”

Khelben looked at him with surprise. “That is well said.”

“But said too late. We should have thought of this possibility.” Dan sighed and reached for a dried plum. He slipped a jeweled knife from the cuff of his shirt and deftly pitted the fruit. I have no expertise in siege tactics, but surely some of your Harpers keep watch for such things.”

“We have not seen the need,” the archmage said shortly. “Thornhold was considered a secure fortress.”

“And?” Danilo prompted, seeing a familiar film of secrecy settle over his uncle’s face.

Khelben considered, then threw up his hands as if resigned to yield up the truth at once rather than endure the pestering that would surely ensue if he did not. “If truth must be told, the Harpers and the paladins of the Knights of Samular have a wary relationship. The source of this conflict is a tale too old to profit from retelling.”

“Really?”

“Really.” This time, Khelben’s forbidding expression declared his intention to hold firm. “And though your assessment of the possible strategy of the attackers has merit, it is not sufficient to explain the fall of Thornhold. The paladins send out patrols into the hills. If a force large enough to scale the walls was camped about, slowly gathering in number, the paladins surely would have discovered it. No, there is something else here, something hidden.” He cast a quick, sharp look at Danilo. “Something that should remain hidden from casual eyes. Where did you say you heard this ballad?”