Thornhold

'This is gonna hurt some,' he admitted, then hurled himself against the cage one last time.

To Algorind's dismay, the child did not take kindly to her rescue. She fought him until they reached Rassalanter Hamlet, where he gratefully turned her over to the nurse Sir Gareth had employed. After downing a a cup of strong tea, the child fell asleep, and stayed asleep in the privacy of a covered carriage, until they reached Waterdeep.

With great relief he entered the grounds of Tyr's temple, and sent word ahead to Sir Gareth as he had been instructed to do. In moments, the old knight met him at the gate, on horseback and ready to travel. To Algorind's surprise, Sir Gareth led him not into the complex, but down the street toward the sea.

'This matter required great secrecy,' Gareth reminded him. 'If the child is to find safe, appropriate fosterage, few can know of her arrival in Waterdeep.'

'But surely she would be safe in the Halls of Justice,' Algorind ventured.

The knight looked at him kindly. 'Many visitors come to the Halls of Justice, seeking aid or information. We cannot risk that the child's presence be discovered. Some might come to us with questions. Why place the brothers in a position where they must either betray us or lie? What they do not know, they can deny in good faith.'

'I'm sure that is wise,' Algorind agreed, though for some reason he still felt somewhat troubled.

'It is necessary,' Sir Gareth said firmly. 'You may leave the child in my hands now, your duty complete.'

Algorind hesitated. 'What would you have me do now? Return to Summit Hall with word that the child is safely in your hands?'

'No, better that you ride first to Thornhold with a message to Hronulf. He should have word of his granddaughter.'

The knight reached out and placed a hand on the young paladin's shoulder. His face was grave. 'I have a new charge for you. Stay with Hronulf for as long as needs be. I fear that perilous times are coming, and I would feel more content for my old friend's safety if I knew that a young knight of your skill and valor guarded his back.'

'I will happily do as you ask, but I am not yet a knight,' Algorind felt compelled to add.

Sir Gareth smiled, but his eyes had the faraway expression of a man who regarded distant glories. 'Do this, and I swear to you that you will die as a paladin should, fighting alongside fellow knights.'

As he entered Khelben's study, Danilo recoiled in suprise. There was a slight swelling to one side of the archmage's jaw, where Dan had struck. His lingering ire vanished, replaced by guilt and puzzlement. Khelben could easily heal himself-why would he choose not to?

'Our last discussion seems to have made more of an impression upon you than I intended,' Danilo ventured.

The sharp, sidelong look Khelben sent him showed a hint of self-deprecating humor that most men would think entirely foreign to the archmage's character.

'Apology accepted,' Khelben said brusquely. 'Now, to the matter at hand.'

He nodded toward the other occupant of the chamber, a gnome woman who sat clenching the arms of a too large chair, her feet stuck straight up before her like a child's.

'Alice,' Danilo said warmly. 'It's good to see you again.'

'Save the pleasantries,' the archmage cut in, 'and listen well. A situation has arisen that requires me to divulge information that until now was best left unspoken.'

Khelben strode over to his writing desk, absently picked up a quill, and crumbled it in his hand. 'Alice tells me that Malchior has given Bronwyn information on her past. She is even now talking to Tyr's followers. This creates a grave situation and puts her in considerable danger.'

He dropped the ruined pen into a wastebasket. A small, claw-tipped orange hand reached up and caught it from the air. The smacking, chewing sounds that followed spoke of the discrete disposal that awaited any discarded written drafts that might otherwise reveal the archmage's business.

'It is certain that members of the Zhentarim know of Bronwyn's identity. Soon the paladins of Tyr will know this, as well. They may tell her of the power that her heritage brings. Paladins and Zhents will wish to exploit it, and her.'

Danilo nodded slowly. He hadn't resolved his anger at Khelben's machinations, or his own sense of confusion over his part in uncovering Bronwyn's identity, but at least he was beginning to see Khelben's reasoning. He didn't like it any better, but understanding helped. A little.

'And what is this power?' he inquired.

The archmage grimaced. 'I do not know the whole of it,' he admitted, 'but this much I can tell you: the Knights of Samular have in their possession three rings, artifacts of considerable power. They can be worn and wielded only by blood descendants of Samular.'

'Which Bronwyn is,' Danilo put in.

'Yes. What these rings can do, and where they are held, I do not know. Hronulf wears one of them, another was lost in the raid on his village. The third has been missing for centuries.'

The archmage turned to Alice. 'And this is where you come in. Find out what Bronwyn knows, and report back at once.'

'I'm to tell her of the rings, aren't I?' Alice asked anxiously. 'It won't be easy admitting to her that I've been keeping watch over her these four years and more, but the time has come.'

'Not yet,' Khelben cautioned. 'You are to act as you always have. Watch, listen, and report.'

'But-'

He cut her off with a single stern glare. 'Find out what she knows,' he repeated. 'And that is all.'

The dismissal was unmistakable. Alice slid off the too-tall chair and nodded her head in a curt, barely respectful bow.

Danilo watched her go, fully understanding how she must feel. The little gnome considered Bronwyn a friend, and yet she kept secrets from her because it was her duty as a Harper to do so. Clearly, it didn't sit well with the proud former warrior. It didn't sit well with Dan either, if truth must be told. He wondered how much longer either he or Alice would be able to give duty greater weight than friendship.

FIVE

Bronwyn stopped when she was perhaps a hundred paces from Black-staff Tower. It was one of the oddest buildings in a very unusual city. A tall, flat-topped cone of seemingly unbroken black stone, it was surrounded by a curtain wall of the same dark substance, a wall without any apparent doors.

She circled around, not quite sure what she was looking for. Then, she noted a basket at the foot of the wall, a tall wicker basket such as a merchant might use to haul goods to the market stalls. There were a few baskets of that sort in the back room of the Curious Past. Bronwyn edged between two nearby buildings and settled down to wait.

After a short time, the basket began to move, dragged by the handle by a small, white-haired gnome. Bronwyn caught her breath in a half sob as she recognized Alice.

Even through her pain, Bronwyn had to admire the gnome's pioy. Emerging through an invisible wall was one thing, and would surely seize the attention of any who witnessed it. But who would notice a gnome tradeswoman, who appeared only to be stooping to adjust her load before proceeding on her way? Alice had obviously planned to slip through the wall behind the basket, wait for an opportune moment, and then go on her way. It was well done.

Bronwyn followed, keeping at least thirty paces between herself and the treacherous gnome. At least she now knew how the Harpers had been keeping an eye on her business. That Alice reported directly to Khelben Arunsun, the Master Harper, was a matter of some concern. Bronwyn could see no reason why she warranted such lofty attention. No doubt the archmage was concerned about her contact with Malchior. Members of the