Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [29]
"What?" Erlandar repeated, glaring at Storm in open-mouthed disbelief. "What're you playing at?"
"I'm not the one who's been playing at things around here, Lord Summerstar," Storm told him crisply "Renglar Baerest is sitting on my luggage with his guts torn out of him-and his skull burned bare and empty. After what befell Athlan, is the word "murdered" still unfamiliar to you?"
Shayna gave a little scream, and her face twisted. Her hands flew to her mouth. Down the line of pale war wizards, someone's face-Hundarr's, was it?– creased in revulsion. He gagged over bis empty plate.
Ergluth Rowanmantle went to stand watchfully behind the Summerstar heiress, never taking his eyes off the other diners. He'd been staring at feces intently since Storm's first words, trying to catch sight of a suspicious reaction. Of course, he reflected grimly, he couldn't watch the absent Thalance.
The stout, bewhiskered boldshield loomed like a mountain over Shayna. His eyes were cold as his gaze met the shocked, angry glares of Erlandar and Pheirauze Summerstar. His hairy, muscular arms were crossed in front of his chest-but fingers of one hand rested on the half of his mace of office. The fingers of the other were on the pommel of the heavy broadsword he wore. “Where is Thalance?” he asked quietly.
Pheirauze flushed crimson. “How dare you imply-“ she began, voibe rising in a magnificently trembling cry of outrage.
“I imply nothing, Dowager Lady,” Ergluth rumbled, drowning out her words without seeming to raise his voice in the slightest. “I leave such subtle nonsense to those who have the leisure for it-such as the nobility of Cormyr. I ask a simple question, in the king’s name, and expect a clear and swift answer of you: where is Thalance?”
"I-I know not," Pheirauze snapped, blinking. I'm not the lad's keeper!"
"Lucky him," someone among the war wizards murmured quite clearly.
The boldshield turned and snapped, "Find Thalance Summerstar at once! Guard him, hold him in one place in the name of the king, and report back!"
"Sir!" the Purple Dragons by the door chorused. They rushed out, leaving only two of their number behind, standing on either side of the door. For the first time, the Summerstars noticed that these guards were hefting loaded and ready slings, and looking alertly at all the diners.
The war wizards were beginning to look scared now. Neither Storm nor Ergluth were surprised when Broglan Samyn suddenly rose and leaned forward, fingertips on the table and face contemptuous.
“Threatening nobles in their own home is hardly prudent-and never polite. If a man lies dead in a bedchamber, who better to ask how he got there than the occupant of that room? Boldshield, the outlander among us is one of the folk we wizards of war are taught to beware-one of the bringers of trouble we're charged with keeping the realm clear of. If anyone is to answer questions about murders, let it be her!"
Silence was his only reply. He turned to glare at the Purple Dragon commander."To answer your question: I saw Thalance rise and leave, not long ago, and have no trace of an idea as to his whereabouts now. But I have a question for you: was there a Harper pin on or beside the Seneschal's body?"
There was not, Sir Broglan of Sevensash," Ergluth replied curtly, his eyes more like the keen gaze of an eagle than ever, "and what if there had been? I know of over two hundred Harpers who've perished in Cormyr in the past decade… yes, in this 'safe,' loyal, law-abiding realm." He put one of his great battered hands down on the hack of Shayna's chair, seeming not to notice her staring wide-eyed up at him, and leaned forward to fix the leader of the war wizards with a gaze that had grown dark and stony.
"Now," he continued heavily, "how many wandering Harper pins do you think their deaths have produced? Have you ever heard of a Harper marking a corpse as some sort of 'Harper kill' by leaving a pin behind? I've not-and yet why do we stand here debating such things? We've a Harper in our midst. If you suspect this leaving of pins might be a Harper tactic,