Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [82]
“Alice, meet Ebenezer Stoneshaft,” Bronwyn said dryly. “He’ll be with me for a tenday or two.”
The gnome’s face went wary “And staying where?”
“Neither of us are staying. A bath and a meal, and we’ll be on our way.”
Alice huffed. “Well, by the looks of you, child, you could certainly use a good meal.” Her eyes slid disdainfully over the dwarf, leaving the last part of her insult unspoken.
Bronwyn noted this exchange with great puzzlement. Alice was the most genial of souls; it was not like the gnome to so mistreat a visitor to Curious Past. She was about to admonish her assistant when she noticed the delighted battle gleam in the dwarf’s eye. He had spoken little on the journey south, and she’d given him silence and time to deal with his loss. Judging by the animation on his face, maybe she would have done better to pick a fight or two with him.
“Grow a beard, woman,” Ebenezer gruffly advised Alice. This comment baffled Bronwyn, but Alice seemed to understand it perfectly. The gnome’s eyes widened, then turned coy, and bright color bloomed on her already rosy cheeks.
Belatedly, Bronwyn got the point. Dwarven women were as bearded as their men. Apparently, Ebenezer was expressing his approval of Alice’s gruff reception, even flirting with her a bit. Bronwyn cast her eyes toward the ceiling-which, despite Alice’s claims, was liberally festooned with cobwebs. “Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”
The gnome collected herself. “Your friend Lord Thann has found excuse to stop by, or send someone on his behalf, at least thrice a day. He seems most concerned about you.”
“I can just imagine,” Bronwyn muttered. “I suppose he has been watching me and reporting back to Khelben all this time, too. No offense meant, Alice,” she added hastily when she saw hurt and self-reproach creep into the gnome’s eyes.
Watching. Reporting back.
Suddenly something else occurred to Bronwyn, something that widened her eyes with shock and fury. When she had wanted to identify herself to her father, she named her telltale birthmark. Surely that identifying mark was one measure used by those who once searched for Hronulf’s missing daughter. The Harpers might have heard of the search, and remembered that birthmark. Was it possible that the invitation to join the Harpers, to move to Waterdeep and work under Khelben Arunsun’s direction, was not motivated by the skills she could bring to the Harpers, but by who she was?
All these years, she had searched so desperately for her family, and they had known.
If that was so, then the brief days and nights of merriment that she and Danilo had shared several years before suddenly took on new and ominous meaning. And with that realization came a stab of betrayal so painful that it almost sent her to her knees. Danilo had known who she was-or at least suspected. By the time he left Amn, he knew beyond doubt.
“Oh, my god and goddess,” she whispered in a appalled voice, stunned by this duplicity in a man she had long called friend. “Sweet sister Sune.”
“Some might think it’s a bit early in the day to be invoking the goddess of love and beauty,” observed a familiar, languid male voice behind her. “Myself, I see no reason to put off what I might want to do again later.”
This observation, coming on the heels of her sudden and disturbing insight, raised Bronwyn’s temper past boiling. She fisted her hand and spun toward the shop door, swinging out high and hard.
Danilo dodged the blow and caught her wrist. “Really! Is that any way to greet an old friend?” he chided her.
Bronwyn wrenched her arm from his grasp and backed away. “You son of a snake,” she said in a low, furious tone.
“An.”
Just that. He didn’t bother to ask her what she meant. Of course not. But if Bronwyn had not known what a chameleon her fellow Harper could be, she would have sworn there was real regret in his eyes.
He took a step toward her, one hand