The City of Splendors_ A Waterdeep Novel - Ed Greenwood [67]
Eyes shining, the boy nodded and knelt to Korvaun as one does to kings. Springing up, he ran down the stairs in a joyful clatter of boots.
"You're a good man, my friend," a voice observed quietly. "The best of us all."
Korvaun looked up, startled. Wary alarm melted into pleasure at the sight of Roldo Thongolir. His long-absent friend was lounging against the doorpost, smiling wistfully. Roldo was sunbrown from long hours riding under summer skies, and his blue eyes were weary. He'd always been shorter, slighter, and less flamboyant than his friends, but he wore his new gemweave cloak proudly. Its soft rose caught the light, glowing like a cloud at sunrise.
Grinning in real delight, Korvaun strode forward and pulled his friend into a back-thumping hug. "Welcome home! I didn't hear you come up."
"You were too engrossed in arranging that lad's future. When did the Helmfasts leave off shipping to become champions of the common man?"
"Weren't champions once those who gave aid wherever it was needed?"
The Thongolir heir chuckled. "You sound like Taeros talking of knights and heroes. Speaking of whom, it seems our sharp-tongued friend's been busy."
"Oh?"
"Aye. I've just come from the print shop, where the ink was drying on his latest broadsheets. The cryers' lads came to take them round the taverns. Fur'll fly before day's end."
Korvaun sighed. "Our Taeros can offend people more efficiently than a flatulent half-orc in a public bath."
Roldo smirked. "His is a rare gift-Lathander be praised for that!"
The youngest Lord Helmfast nodded in full agreement. "How was your wedding promenade?" he asked, knowing he must.
His friend's smile slipped. "I always enjoy Silverymoon. The minstrelsy and plays are better than ever! I held dawn vigil at Rhyester's Matins; it fills with rainbows when the light of morning touches its windows. Extraordinary." He plucked at his rose-quartz cloak. "I'll wear this when next I worship there, and see if the faithful mistake me for the next Mornmaster!"
Korvaun nodded. 'Twas said that laying the right "sign" of the god on that temple's altar would show the devout of Lathander their next leader, or some such. "And Sarintha?"
"She was pleased with the trip."
"It augers well for your union," Korvaun observed carefully, "that you find enjoyment in mutual interests."
Roldo smiled faintly. "As to that, my lady's already showing promise of a steady hand at the Thongolir helm. Father's pleased with several ingenious plans she's devised to increase trade with Silverymoon."
"I'm surprised to learn Silverymoon lacks either scribes or books."
"They've both in plenty. In fact…" Roldo reached into his belt-satchel and took out a volume bound in purple leather and stamped in gold: Dynasty of Dragons: The First Thousand Obarskyr Years. "I found a tome The Hawkwinter has long sought."
"Ah, he'll be pleased."
"Oddly enough, 'twas Sarintha who acquired this. She was busy indeed during our time in Silverymoon."
"Oh? What schemes hath the fair Sarintha hatched?" Korvaun asked, not without genuine interest.
Sarintha Thann was the granddaughter of the redoubtable Lady Cassandra and had inherited that lady's shrewd business sense as well as her blonde beauty. The unfolding of Sarintha's plans for the Thongolir calligraphy, limning, and printing businesses would be worth watching.
Roldo smiled a little ruefully. "We're now in the trade of printing music, and off to a promising start. The lutemaster at the House of the Harp is something of a legend, a half-elf of the old bardic tradition: memory only, nothing written. Sarintha won him over with personal charm and samples of family calligraphy; he's agreed to allow his work to be set down in a fine Thongolir tome. Each page carved and block-printed, and for the coin-heavy, copies with hand-painted borders. Demand swells already, with not a single page printed."
"Then we'll drink to its success." Korvaun strode to the keg and drew two tankards. "To the union of Roldo and