Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [22]
“You have known Bronwyn for perhaps seven years. I have been searching for her for more than twenty. She is the daughter of a famed paladin-Hronulf of Tyr, who is of the bloodline of Samular Caradoon, the paladin who founded the order known as the knights of Samular. From your expression, I surmise that you recognize those names.”
“I have been schooled in history,” Danilo said, nimbly avoiding a drunken and weaving passerby. “Pray continue.”
“Then you also know that Hronulf’s family was thought to have been destroyed in a raid on his village more than twenty years ago. Hronulf believes that all his children were killed, but I had doubt on the matter and kept searching until my suspicions were confirmed. One child, now a man grown, is beyond my reach. But Bronwyn I can and must influence. She has no knowledge of her heritage, and there is ample reason to hope that she is never enlightened.”
Danilo stopped abruptly and caught the archmage’s arm.
“Am I to understand,” he said in a low and angry voice, “that for nearly seven years, you have known that two of Hronulf’s children live, and he does not?”
“Do not pass judgment on that which you do not understand,” Khelben cautioned. “You would do better to attend to the task at hand. We must learn who, if anyone, knows of Bronwyn’s secret-including Bronwyn herself. And that is where you come in.”
Khelben started walking, leaving Danilo standing with his jaw dropped and his mind churning with suspicion. Determined to find the truth of the matter, he trotted up to Khelben’s side and fell into step.
“Seven years ago, you sent me to Amn to recruit a likely agent, a woman not yet twenty years old. Bronwyn and I became friends.”
“So you said.”
“The report and recommendation of a potential Harper includes many things, including, I might add, whether or not a person has any identifying marks.” Danilo’s tone was tight, kindling with growing wrath. “And I reported Bronwyn’s birthmark. That was the identifying mark, was it not? The mark that confirmed that she was Hronulf’s daughter?”
“Yes. What of it?”
Danilo inhaled, his breath whistling through clenched teeth. “You sent me to Amn, intending for me to see and report this.”
“You were both young and unattached. It was reasonable to assume that nature would take its predicted course,” Khelben said. “And you are, I might add, predictable in this matter.”
The bard let out a low, furious oath. “I cannot believe this, not even from you. Is there no part of my life beyond the Harpers’ reach? And you! To thus manipulate those who put trust in you… this is beyond belief.”
“Calm yourself. That was long ago. No harm came of it. You even remained friends.”
“Friends, indeed!” he sputtered. “What kind of friend will Bronwyn think me when she learns that I used and betrayed her thus? Will she believe it was without intent or knowledge? Will she believe that I had no part in keeping her past, her family, secret from her?”
“Lower your voice.” Khelben glanced at a pair of interested passersby, and drew Danilo into a side street. “It is long past and a small matter. Let it go. This was not the first time you used charm and persuasion to learn a woman’s secrets. I doubt it will be the last.”
“Not the last?” Dan folded his arms and glared into Khelben’s borrowed face. “I have made certain personal commitments. Does that mean nothing?”
“You have a prior commitment to the Harpers,” Khelben pointed out, just as angry now as his nephew. But his anger was cold-to Danilo’s eyes, almost inhuman. “If your Arilyn cannot accept this, then she proves herself unworthy of her Harper pin, as well as your continued regard.”
Danilo considered himself an easygoing man, but this