Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [54]
Instantly, the creatures sagged and fell. Rotten flesh dissolved, bones made brittle by long contact with unnatural, prolonged decay gave way and crumbled into powder.
Ebenezer shouldered the rock out of the way and emerged from the cave. “That’s a good trick,” he admitted.
The young man nodded. “You are most welcome, friend dwarf. It was a good thing that I heard your shouts. Now you must excuse me.”
“Hold on,” the dwarf said, catching the horse’s reins. “I gotta get word to my clan. Can you take me where I need to go?”
“Icewind could not long carry the two of us,” the young man said, nodding at his splendid white horse, “and my duty takes me elsewhere.”
“But this is important!”
“Then may Tyr speed your steps and provide a means for your swift journey.”
“Might could be that he already has,” Ebenezer muttered. He reached up and seized a handful of the man’s white and blue tabard, and yanked him down off the horse.
They tumbled together, and the young man reached for his sword. Ebenezer grabbed the first weapon that came to hand-a rock about twice the size of his fist-and slammed it between the human’s eyes. The young man groaned and fell limp. Ebenezer hopped to his feet. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, relieved to see that the human still breathed. Borrowing a horse in dire straits was one thing, outright killing a man who’d done him a good turn was quite another. But, as the man had said, Tyr would provide. It’d be downright ungrateful for Ebenezer to ignore such a thoughtful and timely gift.
The dwarf seized the horse’s reins and led the beast over to the boulder. He climbed onto the rock and just barely managed to hoist his foot into the stirrup. He hauled himself up and settled down in the saddle. Unlike most dwarves, he liked horses and rode when he could. This was the finest horse he’d ever had. It wouldn’t be easy to give the beast back, but Ebenezer determined that he would find a way to do so.
“I’m off, then,” he advised the man, who was beginning to shake off the effects of the blow. “If you’ve got problems with that, you might want to take it up with Tyr.”
Ebenezer shook the reins over the white horse’s neck, and headed northward toward his clan and home.
* * * * *
Danilo was a frequent visitor to Curious Past. Until now, he not given much thought to his role in fostering Bronwyn’s business. He liked rare and beautiful things, and so did many of his wealthy peers. It was a small matter to send them Bronwyn’s way, a favor no larger than he would do for any friend. The difference was that he was doing this at Khelben’s direction and for the express purpose of keeping Bronwyn in Waterdeep and under the eye of the archmage.
As he stood before the tall, trim building that housed the shop, Danilo wondered what Bronwyn would think of this involvement or how she would react if she knew that her shop-like many others on this street and others-was in fact owned by the Harpers. Perhaps he should tell her outright, Danilo mused as he pushed open the large oak-plank door. Perhaps he should tell her everything he had learned about her heritage. But Khelben insisted that doing so would endanger her. In Danilo’s opinion, the archmage was overly cautious and often downright miserly with information, but how could he be certain that Khelben’s warnings were not valid?
“Think about it,” advised a raucous, inhuman voice, speaking almost in his ear.
Danilo jumped, then turned to find himself face to beak with a large raven. A wry smile curved his lips. Odd that the raven’s standard rejoinder meshed so perfectly with his ambivalent state of mind.
“I assure you, my dear Shopscat, I have been doing precisely that. Is your mistress in attendance?”
The raven merely cocked his head and eyed the shiny gold hoop in Danilo’s ear. Danilo clapped one hand to his ear and took