Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [85]
“We have not seen the need,” the archmage said shortly. “Thornhold was considered a secure fortress.”
“And?” Danilo prompted, seeing a familiar film of secrecy settle over his uncle’s face.
Khelben considered, then threw up his hands as if resigned to yield up the truth at once rather than endure the pestering that would surely ensue if he did not. “If truth must be told, the Harpers and the paladins of the Knights of Samular have a wary relationship. The source of this conflict is a tale too old to profit from retelling.”
“Really?”
“Really.” This time, Khelben’s forbidding expression declared his intention to hold firm. “And though your assessment of the possible strategy of the attackers has merit, it is not sufficient to explain the fall of Thornhold. The paladins send out patrols into the hills. If a force large enough to scale the walls was camped about, slowly gathering in number, the paladins surely would have discovered it. No, there is something else here, something hidden.” He cast a quick, sharp look at Danilo. “Something that should remain hidden from casual eyes. Where did you say you heard this ballad?”
“The Howling Moon,” Danilo repeated, “and a dreadful ditty it was.” Or would be, he amended silently, given the time he would have to compose it!
“Good.” Khelben nodded with satisfaction and began to spoon up his now-cold soup. “A poor tale has less chance of being repeated.”
“It is clear that you have not spent much time in taverns of late,” Dan said dryly. “I assure you, Uncle, the Ballad of Thornhold is the sort of song most frequently requested in the taverns, most eagerly sought by young bards and minstrels who make their living traveling about with news and gossip.”
“You couldn’t squelch this ballad?” Khelben demanded.
More easily than you could imagine, thought Danilo with a stab of guilt. He could simply leave it unwritten and unsung. But in truth, what would that profit? His words to Khelben painted the picture clearly enough; if he himself did not write such a ballad, someone else would, and the tale might grow dangerously larger in the telling.
“How so? Forbid a song? That would only spread it the faster. And you must admit, this has in it all the elements of a fine tale: heroism, tragedy, mystery It will strike a particular chord with retired men of the sword, in which Water-deep abounds.”
“How so?”
"Well, other than the men who rode patrols, Thornhold was manned by aging paladins, veterans who chose to serve rather than retire. The paladins of Thornhold defied their age and infirmities. They died fighting, as heroes, long after their time. This holds much appeal.”
Danilo reached for the ladle of the soup tureen, then thought better of it. “There is more. Although listeners expect tales in which good triumphs over evil, many are surprised and secretly delighted when evil triumphs-as long as the results do not touch them personally.”
The archinage wiped his lips with a linen napkin. “That is a harsh thing to say.”
Danilo shrugged. “But true, nonetheless. Since there is much mystery about the fall of Thornhold, there will be speculation. All who listen to the ballad become storytellers themselves, as they spin tales about what might have happened.”
“But not all men are content with gossip,” the archmage said. “How long before small forces gather to throw themselves against Thornhold? The paladins at the Halls of Justice will probably make a quest of it, not to mention the knights of Summit Hall. I don’t need to tell you what a waste that would be. Only an enormous, full-scale assault of massive power could bring down those walls.”
Danilo examined his fingernails. “Thinking of trying your hand, Uncle?”
The archmage sniffed. “As to that, I have but one word: Ascalhorn.”
“An. Excellent point.”
For a time, the men fell silent, and the