in practice.'
'Hold that thought,' Bronwyn told him, secretly rather touched that the dwarf would come to her defense without question or hesitation. It helped a little, especially when all her perceptions and alliances seemed to be shifting, and her emotions in such chaos that she couldn't think things through with her usual clarity.
But at that moment, another disturbing piece molded itself into the spreading puzzle. It suddenly occurred to Bronwyn to wonder about the reason for the Harpers' recent, intense interest in her. Did Khelben suspect the Zhentarim had designs on her father's keep? If the Harpers had known and had done nothing to stop it, then she was finished with the lot of them!
She whirled back to Danilo, her pain over his earlier transgression forgotten. 'How much of this did you know?'
He spread his hands, palms up. 'I swear to you, Bronwyn, I had no idea who you were when we met in Amn,' he said earnestly, 'nor did I know of your lineage until a few days ago. There was no subterfuge or design in our friendship. We were young and congenial. When I vouched for you as Harper many months later, I did name your distinguishing marks. Such things are important for a Harper Master to know, and when Khelben asked the question I thought nothing amiss. I told him, but I made no mention of how this knowledge was acquired.'
'Ever the gentleman,' she sneered. 'But that's a small thing. A few moments ago, I wouldn't have thought so. This new betrayal outshines all that went before.'
This clearly took him aback. 'What is this about?'
'You deny it still!' Furious now, she snatched up a carved ivory statue and hurled it at him. It missed and crashed into the lintel, breaking into several pieces. 'You killed my father! If you hadn't withheld information, he might still be alive.'
Bronwyn was raving and knew it, but she was beyond caring. The bitter words tore from her like living things determined to be born, regardless of the pain of their birthing.
Danilo stooped and gathered up the ivory bits; Bronwyn suspected he wished to buy time to gather his composure and shape his next remarks. But when he rose, his face was still bewildered. 'Bronwyn, what is going on?'
'Tell me this: did you know that Thornhold would come under attack?'
Danilo looked honestly and thoroughly stunned by this news. He sank down to sit on a carved chest, and he rubbed both hands over his face. 'Thornhold was attacked?' he echoed.
'And taken,' she said shortly.
From the corner of her eye Bronwyn noticed that Shop-scat was showing keen interest in her visitor's ear- cuff and was starting to edge closer for the attack. Out of habit, she started to grab for the raven-then thought better of it and left the bird alone to do as it willed.
'The fortress of Thornbold is now held by the Zhentarim,' she said, her voice gaining volume and passion as she spoke. 'Isn't that why Khelben Arunsun was so concerned about my dealings with Malchior? He was afraid I might give away family secrets, is that it? Or perhaps you thought I was in collusion with the Zhentarim?'
'Not that. Never that.' Danilo rose and took a step toward her. His progress was halted when a very angry dwarf stepped between him and Bronwyn.
'Back away,' Ebenezer growled. He reached up and thumped the Harper's chest with his stubby forefinger. 'Seems to me the lady of this here shop told you a ways back to git. And you ain't got yet. Now, I see a problem there that we could solve one of two ways.'
The Harper took a long breath and exhaled with a sigh. 'I have no quarrel with you, good sir. Bronwyn, even if you are content to lay to rest the old matter, we must discuss this new one. Send word, when you are ready.'
Her only response was a stony stare. After a moment Danilo nodded a silent farewell and left, unwittingly evading the quick stabbing attack of Shopscat's beak.
'I could get to like that bird,' Ebenezer observed, eyeing the raven with grim approval.
Danilo strode through the streets toward Blackstaff Tower, hands clasped behind him and brow deeply furrowed in thought. He caught a glimpse of himself in the polished glass of a milliner's shop window, and the sight pulled him up short. It took him a moment to realize what bothered him about the reflected image. He had seen that stance before, and the expression was a mirror image of that he'd often beheld on the visage of the archmage he served.
'I have been at this business far too long,' Danilo murmured as he took off down the street again, this time at a saunter.
He found the archmage at his table, which did nothing to brighten his mood. Khelben had a perverse fondness for such foods as pottage of lentil, thick oat porridge, and fruit unadorned by pastry or sugar. If that was the secret of the archmage's long life, Danilo fervently hoped to die when his naturally allotted span was through.
As they exchanged greetings, Danilo selected a ring of dried apple from a tray. He sat down across from the archmage, munching the leathery fruit as he pondered how best to pass along the dire message Bronwyn had hurled at him. Danilo had given his word to Alice, albeit tacitly, that he would not report to Khelben word of Bronwyn's trip to Thornhold. Nor would he tell the archmage that Bronwyn was back in the city. Khelben would find that out soon enough. Danilo's days of reporting on his old friends were over.
A simple ruse came to him. Nothing annoyed Khelben more than reference to Danilo's bardic pursuits. Perhaps that very pique would serve to keep the archmage from examining the tale too closely.
'I heard a most amazing ballad last night at the Howling Moon,' Danilo began, naming a new tavern popular with traveling bards of all stripe. 'The singer describea the fall of Thornhold and claimed that this dire event occurred but two days past. I am inclined to believe him, Uncle. I do not wish to criticize a fellow bard, but the song sounded rather hastily composed.'
Khelben stared at him for a long moment. 'Wait here,' he commanded.
The archmage rose and swept from the room. In Khelben's absence, Danilo nibbled away at the plate of dried fruit and studied the dining hall. There was not overmuch to see. Polished wood covered the walls, and the stone floor had been neatly strewn with fresh rushes mingled with sweet-smelling herbs, as was the custom. The room was dim and cool, lit only by the light that filtered in from the ever-shifting windows. The archmage had remarkably simple habits and insisted that there was no need to waste candles unless they were needed for reading.
Khelben returned in moments, his visage even grimmer than the reflection of his own face that Dan had glimpsed in the shop window.
'It is as you say,' the archmage said. 'How could such a thing occur without word or warning? How could a siege force of sufficient size march not more than two days' ride north of this city and no one notice anything amiss? What good are we doing here in Waterdeep?'
The last question was a challenge, leveled at the Harpers in general and Danilo in particular, and delivered with the force of a thrown lance.
'It is possible,' Dan ventured, 'that the Zhentarim have been preparing for this attack for a longtime. There would be no time better, given the coming of the spring fairs and the heavy traffic on the High Road. Soldier and horse could easily be disguised as part of a merchant caravan and could pass unnoticed. Small groups could slip away into the hills and mountains and gather at the appointed time.'
Khelben looked at him with surprise. 'That is well said.'
'But said too late. We should have thought of this possibility.' Dan sighed and reached for a dried plum. He slipped a jeweled knife from the cuff of his shirt and deftly pitted the fruit. I have no expertise in siege tactics, but surely some of your Harpers keep watch for such things.'
'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.'
