Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [14]
“Think, boy! Even in its humblest form, amber is more than a pretty stone-it is a natural conduit for the Weave. This amber came from Anauroch, from trees that died suddenly and violently. Imagine the power required to transform the ancient Myconid Forest into desert wasteland. If even a trace of that magic lingers in the amber, in any form that can be tapped and focused, that necklace has enormous magical potential. It can also gather and transfer magical energy-” Khelben broke off, looking faintly startled, as if, Dan noted, he was suddenly considering that thought in a new light. The archmage rose and resumed his pacing. “Apparently we shall have to keep a closer watch on Malchior and his ambitions.”
“In our copious spare time,” Danilo murmured. He lifted one brow. “Here’s a happy thought. When you say ‘we,’ perhaps you are employing the royal ‘we,’ and excluding your humble nephew and henchman?”
Khelben almost smiled. “Keep thinking in that manner,” he said. “They say that dreams are healthy.”
“Uncle, may I be frank?”
This time, the archmage looked genuinely amused. “Why stop on my account?”
“I am concerned about Bronwyn. Stop frowning so- nothing is out of the ordinary. All has been done as you requested. I have arranged to have her watched and protected. I have quietly fostered her shop as the right place to acquire gems and oddities, ensured that her acquisitions are seen on those who mold the whims of fashion, made certain that she receives social invitations likely to build her reputation and her client list. In short, I have kept her busy, happy, and here in Waterdeep.
“But may I be damned as a lich if I know why, and damned thrice over if I am proud of my part in the manipulation of a friend and a fellow Harper!”
“Consider it ‘management,’ then,” Khelben answered, “if the other word displeases you.”
Danilo shrugged. “A goblin by any other name is just as green.”
“What a charming bromide. Is that the sort of thing you’re teaching in the bard school?”
“Uncle, I will not be distracted.”
The archmage threw up his hands. “Fine. Then I, too, will be blunt. Your words display far more naivetй than I would have expected from you. Of course the Harpers must be managed. The decisions an agent must make are often too important, too far-reaching, to leave entirely in one person’s hands.”
“Unless, of course, that person is yourself.”
Khelben stopped his pacing and turned slowly, exuding in condensed form the wrath and power of a dragon rampant. “Have a care how you speak.” he said in a low, thrumming voice. “There are limits to what I will endure, even from you.”
Danilo held his ground, though he better understood the true scope of Khelben’s power than did most who stood in awe of the great archmage. “If I offended, I beg pardon, but I only speak the truth as I see it.”
“A dangerous habit,” Khelben grumbled, but he subsided and turned away. He clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out a window-a window that shifted position randomly, and that was never visible from the outside of the tower. The current vista, Dan noted, was especially impressive: the luxury of Castle Ward, crowned by the majestic sweep of Mount Waterdeep. A trio of griffons from the aerie at the mountain’s summit rose into the sky, their tiny forms silhouetted against sunset clouds of brilliant rose and amethyst. Danilo watched them circle and take off on their appointed patrol as he waited for the archmage to speak.
“You have no doubt wondered why we keep such close watch on Bronwyn, a young Harper whose missions mostly entail carrying messages.”
“No doubt,” Danilo said dryly. He folded his arms and stretched his long legs out before him. “What was your first portent of this? The many times I demanded to know why I was made a mastiff to herd this particular sheep?”
“Sarcasm ill becomes you,” Khelben pointed out. “You would not be so flippant if you understood Malchior’s possible interest in Bronwyn.”
“Then tell me.