Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [136]
Piergeiron greeted them warmly, his famed charm very much in evidence. He poured wine from a jeweled decanter, had a servant bring a tray of fruit and cheeses. He inquired after the archmage’s household and the bard’s work, chatted about songs he had heard and people they all knew. Danilo had been well versed in the art of meaningless words, and for some time they chatted pleasantly about small and inconsequential matters.
Through it all, Khelben watched his old friend with an expression that suggested he was seeing him anew, by a different light. Danilo observed this with growing unease. He had seen Piergeiron and Khelben together several times, and though their friendship was as unbalanced as that which sometimes occurred between a barn cat and a draft horse, it was of long standing. There was usually an easy comfort between them that today was utterly missing. Nothing the First Lord did or said could be faulted in the slightest, but Danilo sensed the change in the man, as surely as a forest elf could scent the coming of snow in the autumn wind.
He wondered how many more moments would pass before Khelben broke the awkward pattern. The archmage was not by nature a patient man, nor inclined to calmly endure such treatment at the hand of an old friend. Better a sharp insult, a sudden blow, than this polite and mannered scrambling for distance.
“A young woman reputed to be a Harper agent has run afoul of a paladin brotherhood,” the archmage said bluntly. “I assumed you summoned me here to discuss the matter. If so, speak plainly, and I will do the same.”
“Very well, then.” Piergeiron set his wine goblet down. Far from insulted, he looked relieved to be back on familiar ground. With admirable directness, the First Lord set his concerns out, based on Sir Gareth’s report.
“Let me put your mind at rest,” the archmage said at once. “Bronwyn is indeed a Harper agent. She does have an artifact of Tyr in her possession, that much is true, but she is on her way, even as we speak, to Summit Hall, a monastery of Tyr.”
Piergeiron’s expression eased. Danilo cast a furtive look at the archmage, wondering if he felt even a twinge of guilt for misleading his old friend. Khelben had not actually stated that Bronwyn was returning the ring, but clearly Piergeiron thought that this was the case. It did not seem that Khelben intended to disabuse him of that notion.
“I am relieved to hear this, my friend, but I must admit to some lingering doubt about Bronwyn’s intentions. According to Sir Gareth, she has been asking around for a priest of Cyric. Her brother, no less.”
Khelben did not so much as blink. “She has reason to seek him out. The Harpers and the Zhentarim have long been foes.”
Another truth that cloaked a lie, Danilo mused. Was this, then, what Harpers must become? As time went on would he, like Khelben, so manipulate his oldest friends and twist the truth to serve the Balance? Later, he would have to give this matter serious consideration, but this was not the time. He schooled his face to reveal nothing of his troubled thoughts.
Khelben leaned forward. “To speak truly, Piergeiron, I would be wary of Sir Gareth’s motives in this matter.”
The First Lord looked offended. “He is a paladin of Tyr!”
“He is of the Order of the Knights of Samular,” Khelben specified. “I do not argue that the paladins are anything but good and holy men, but I am wary of the orders. One man’s righteous conviction is a fine thing, but imagine the evil that could be done by so many, of such power, in the single-minded pursuit of a goal they believe to be good. I would hate to see Bronwyn swept up in such a rushing tide.”
Piergeiron shook his head in astonishment. “I do not believe what I am hearing.”
“At least consider my words. I have long looked askance at the military orders, especially the followers of Samular. Recently, I have come to suspect that there might be good and sufficient reason for this.”
The First Lord rose, his face stern