Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [157]
A deep sense of loss smote Bronwyn’s heart. She reached down and clasped his shoulder. “I’ve got to see how Cara is doing in Blackstaff Tower. Or whether she’s still there, for that matter.” She smiled faintly. “That child’s feet are almost as itchy as yours and mine. I’ll come just as soon as I can.”
“Don’t,” he said. “Chances are there won’t be much to find.”
This confirmed Bronwyn’s unspoken fears. Ebenezer believed that he was going north to die with his clan. “Don’t go,” she said softly.
“Gotta go. I wasn’t there last time. Couldn’t live with myself if it happened again.”
They sat for a moment, staring out after the determined dwarves. Bronwyn accepted what must be. She forced a smile, reached down, and cuffed the dwarf’s curly head in farewell.
Ebenezer caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips. Then he abruptly released her and kicked his tired blue pony into a reluctant trot. His grumbling comment floated back to Bronwyn on the brisk sea breeze.
“Been spending too much time with humans, is what.”
Bronwyn blinked back tears and turned her horse through the Northgate. Since secrecy was unlikely, she settled for haste. She left her horses at the nearest public stable and hired a closed carriage. At her instruction, the halfling driver set his horses at a brisk pace down the High Road, and when Bronwyn arrived at Blackstaff Tower she gave him the silver he’d requested for his hire and half as much again. She jumped from the carriage and hit the cobblestones running.
Her heart quickened with worry when Danilo emerged from the black wall to meet her, his expression as dark as the marble edifice behind him. “You do not want to go in there,” he said grimly. He caught her arm and began drawing her along with him at a brisk pace.
She fell into step with him. “What’s going on?”
“Lady Laeral is packing for an unexpected trip. It seems she returned to the tower after a night’s revel up in the Sea Ward to find that our mutual bane, the great archmage himself, had relieved her of her promising new apprentice.”
Dread stopped Bronwyn cold. “Cara! What did he do with her?”
“Keep walking,” he said shortly. “I doubt you have much time. The archmage did precisely what he thought he must. It seems that our good friends at the Hails of Justice got wind of Cara’s new apprenticeship. They convinced the First Lord that this child was and should be a ward of the Knights of Samular, that her destiny was with the chosen brothers of her illustrious ancestor, and many other songs of a similar tune.”
“And Khelben just turned her over?” Fury and incredulity battled for supremacy in Bronwyn’s voice.
“He believed he had little choice in the matter. Three young paladins came for her, bearing an edict from Piergeiron himself. Khelben is many things, not the least of them a canny politician. He understands the rift growing between the various paladin orders and the Harpers. If he openly defied Piergeiron’s direct edict, he woi.ild give the impression that Waterdeep’s Master Harper considers himself above the law. This, he contends, would endanger the work of the Harpers and the agents themselves.”
“And you agree.”
“Did I say that?” he retorted. “The archmage and I exchanged many words on this matter. Suffice it to say that we used up most of the truly vile ones, but my anger was a pale thing compared to Laeral’s wrath. I fear that the lady mage’s visit to her sister’s farm will last much longer than previous jaunts.
“But Khelben must handle his own problems,” Danilo concluded. “Let us discuss yours. What did you find?”
She sent him a long, considering look. “Why should I trust you?”
“Whatever you think, I have never betrayed your trust. Nor will I.” He stopped and pushed his fine green tabard off his left shoulder, revealing a tiny, weathered silver harp nestled in a crescent moon. He took off the pin, the symbol of his Harper allegiance, and handed it to her.
“This was given me by a man I deeply admire, whose regard I hope always to retain. Hold