Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [81]
“There are always choices,” Algorind said firmly. He laid one hand on the man’s shoulder. “You have made a good choice this day, the first of what I trust will be many.”
“Trust, do you?” Jenner chuckled without amusement. “Seems to me that you’re a trusting sort. That’ll bring you to grief, come soon or late.”
Algorind could not dispute that. The treachery of the dwarf he’d saved from the zombies still troubled him deeply.
“There is a travelers’ rest not far ahead,” he commented. ‘We can fill our waterskins at the well and gather some of the berries that grow in profusion nearby.”
Jenner let out a sigh of great longing. “I like spring berries. They’re good any way you can get them, but best with honey and new cream, heaped over a pile of sweet biscuits. I mean to have some of that, first thing, when we reach Waterdeep. After a nice roast of venison and a few mugs, that is.”
The paladin was mildly offended by this picture of gluttony. “You would do better to seek gainful employment for yourself.”
Jenner winked. “And what better place than in a tavern? That’s where men come to hire swords and to hire their swords out.”
“You would find work as a sell-sword?”
“It’s what I know. Don’t worry yourself,” he said, casting a wry half-smile at Algorind. “I’ll do well enough as a caravan guard or some such. Well, there’s the rest house.”
Algorind nodded, then froze. The sight before him was one of such boldness and villainy that it stole his breath.
The red-bearded dwarf came out from the stone structure, leading Icewind by the reins. With him was a young woman with exceptionally long, thick hair plaited back into a single braid. She was comely enough to suit the Zhent’s description of “a pretty wench,” and, since women traveling alone were uncommon in these wild lands, she was probably the one that the Zhentarim of Thornhold sought. The dwarf tossed her up into Icewind’s saddle as if he had every right to dispose of the horse, and then hauled himself up onto the back of a squat, nasty-looking pony. He glanced back and did an astonished double take when he caught Algorind’s dumbfounded gaze.
The dwarf lifted a hand in an insouciant salute, then kicked the pony into a surprisingly quick canter The woman followed along behind on Algorind’s stolen horse.
“The woman you seek,” Algorind said grimly, “she is allied with the Zhentarim?”
Jenner shook his head, obviously not following this line of reasoning. “Not that I know of. Why’d you ask?”
“That white horse is mine,” Algorind said, pointing. “The dwarf stole him from me in an act of base treachery. If the woman consorts with horse thieves, one must ask if she could be allied with the very scum of evildoers.”
The former Zhent let out a snort of laughter. “No offense intended, I suppose.”
Algorind looked at him in puzzlement. “No, I had no wish to offend. Why do you ask?”
Jenner chuckled dryly and shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s just get us to Waterdeep the fastest way we can-or let me put it better, the fastest way your scruples will allow.”
* * * * *
Lath in the afternoon, two days after the fall of Thornhold, Bronwyn led her new companion into the Curious Past. When they entered the shop, the dwarf looked around in begrudging wonderment at the old and rare things that crowded the shelves and tables in glittering display.
“Lot of dusting to do,” he concluded gruffly.
A loud huff announced Alice Tinker’s presence. The gnome rose to her full height, her brown face peering over the rim of the large brass vase she’d been polishing, her small form quivering with indignation. “Dust, nothing! I challenge you to find a single pot, gem or book in this entire place that isn’t polished to a gleam.”
Ebenezer folded