Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [170]
Bronwyn shuddered and shrank back. Strong hands seized her and dragged her to her feet, held her until her world stopped whirling.
Her eyes settled upon Ebenezer’s broadly grinning face. “That was good thinking on your part,” he said, nodding to the tiny siege tower standing in the courtyard. “Though I don’t envy that human much, getting shrunk like that. Makes magical travel feel like a foot massage, I’m telling you that for free.”
She reached out to give the dwarf an affectionate cufl then changed her mind and simply fell into his arms. His grip tightened around her, squeezed with gentle strength, and then he let her go.
Ebenezer cleared his throat and stepped back, turning his attention pointedly to matters elsewhere in the fortress.
Cara came to stand at his side, the Fenrisbane in her hands. She had torn a strip from her ruined gown, and securely tied it around the tower to hold the hatch in place.
The dwarf nodded to the tower. “What you fixing to do with him, now that you got him all boxed and gift-wrapped?”
Bronwyn hadn’t thought that far, but the answer came to her. “I’m going to turn the tower over to Khelben Arunsun. Secretiy. It will be secure in Blackstaff Tower, especially if no one knows it’s there.”
“Think you can trust him?”
“On this matter, yes,” she said shortly. “Whatever else Khelben Arunsun might be, he is no warmonger looking for conquest. And he doesn’t look kindly on those who fit that description. He’ll keep the tower secure.”
“Well, that’s fine, then.” The dwarf looked wistfully at the siege tower. “Before you do that, lemme give the thing a good long, hard shake, or at least drop it from a high place.”
Bronwyn grimaced, finding herself in sympathy with the dwarfs sentiment. “Algorind is defeated. I can’t kill him now.”
Ebenezer sighed. “I suppose not. Let the wizard deal with him.”
“Khelben is the least of Algorind’s concerns,” Bronwyn said with sudden certainty. She remembered the look in the paladin’s eyes when he spoke of the price of failure. As to that, she could do nothing. He had chosen this life, and he would be paid in the wages of his own choice.
Tarlamera sauntered up, looking almost happy for the first time since Bronwyn had met her. “Nice place. You thinking to be giving this back to the paladins?”
The answer that came into Bronwyn’s mind surprised her, but she realized that it was the right one. “No. I’m going to hold the fortress. Thornhold does not belong to the order. It legally belongs to my family. To Cara and me.”
“Important thing, a good clanhold,” Tarlamera admitted. “How you thinking to hold it, though?”
She turned to the red-bearded woman. “I was hoping you might be interested. The tunnels will have to be cleared and protected. You folk could use the fortress as a base until you have secured the tunnels. And even then, you could hold both. This is a good trade site,” she added. “I’m sure that dwarves from Mirabar and farther north would be glad of a place to come and trade, outside of the city.”
“Been to the city,” the dwarf woman agreed. “No reason to go back.”
“I’m sure others feel as you do. Think of how a good fortress, a thriving trade, could help you rebuild your clan.”
“Dwarves don’t hold fortresses,” Tarlamera scoffed, but she looked more than a little intrigued. She scowled and strode off “I’ll think on it,” she tossed back over her shoulder.
“She’ll do it,” Ebenezer translated. “And she thanks you for the offer.”
Bronwyn laughed, delighted by the gruff affection in her friend’s voice. He had his family back. Now that she had a family of her own-she and Cara were family; there was no longer a question in her mind-she knew its value.
“Ah,” she said teasingly. “So that’s what she said. I wouldn’t have guessed, but family matters