Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [123]
“With these, Cara can get herself out of the occasional tight spot,” Danilo said lightly. “Put them back in their bag, Cara, the way I showed you.”
The child beamed and did as she was told. Danilo drew Bronwyn aside. “You’ve got a remarkable new friend,” he said softly. “I think you will have your hands full, though.”
Bronwyn nodded. “Cara is no trouble, but I think she’s in trouble. I just don’t know how much, or what kind.”
“Let me help you,” Danilo said earnestly. “Tell me what I can do.”
She smiled at him, her anger nearly forgotten. “You already have. The gemstones give her a bit of control over her fate. She needs that. And a little control,” she added somberly, “is usually the best any of us can expect.”
Twelve
Dag Zoreth had seen his former teacher Malchior give way to anger on only one occasion. Before his ire had cooled, a half battalion of inept soldiers lay on the ground, some fried black by Cyric-granted lighting, a few still jerking spasmodically. As Dag looked at the older priest’s angry countenance, he silently rehearsed his own prayer to Cyric. If one of them had to end this conference writhing and twitching on the carpet, Dag would prefer it not be he.
He rose from the chair in deference to the higher ranking priest. “This is a surprise,” Dag said mildly. “I did not expect to find you in Waterdeep.”
“No doubt!” the priest retorted. “What is this I hear about you?”
Dag strolled over to the table and helped himself to a piece of the spiced shrimp that the maid had brought along with the midday meal. A fine place, this inn. This meal was enough for two, and to spare. He took the entire tray and handed it to Malchior. The older priest hardly seemed to notice. He popped one shrimp into his mouth, chewed briefly, and kept talking.
“You have not yet found your sister, but one of our informers has,” Malchior said, punctuating this statement by snatching another shrimp. “She was asking about a child. Said it was yours.”
Dag shrugged. “She would not be the first woman to make such a false claim of me. Since I did not know I had a sister, you cannot hold me to account for violation of consanguinity laws.”
The priest stuffed his mouth again and chewed angrily. “You are sidestepping the question.”
“It has become a habit,” Dag said lightly. “You have taught me well.”
The priest’s eyes narrowed, and he studied the younger man as if he was suddenly considering whether his lessons might have been learned too well. Then the look of speculation was gone, and with it Malchior’s ire.
“These are excellent,” he said easily, nodding at the nearly empty tray. “Perhaps we could start on that savory pie while we speak of other matters? You have heard of the gathering of the paladins. I have some advice on the administration and safeguarding of your new command. That is, if you are willing to listen.”
Malchior’s jovial expression was back in place, but Dag was not fooled for a moment. This man was a dangerous enemy, and he wanted Cara. If Dag had to, he would kill him. Until then, he would learn from him.
“My dear Malchior,” Dag said with a smile, “I am interested in every word you have to say.” And even more interested, Dag thought, in what you choose to keep shrouded in silence.
The glint in the priest’s eyes suggested that he sensed Dag’s unspoken addition and marked it well. Smiling at each other like a pair of circling sharks, they sat down to play out the game.
* * * * *
“I tell you, Bronwyn, your friend will be a resident at the castle for the rest of’ the day,” Danilo swore. “Several of the messengers who attend the prisoners are Harpers. They will take care to leave young Algorind’s request until last.”
Bronwyn nodded and shot a glance toward Cara. The child was kneeling on the floor of the shop, playing some elaborate game of make believe with some chess pieces, and singing softly to herself. “That’s something,” Bronwyn admitted. She bit her lip, considering.