Thornhold

'Gone!' mourned Alice, confirming Bronwyn's worse suspicions.

Bronwyn ran a hand over her forehead and back, smoothing her hair in a gesture of pure frustration. 'Did you see anything?'

'A young man came looking for you. A paladin, I think. He wore a blue and white tabard and carried a broadsword. Fle was young-no more than twenty-but taller than most men. Pale yellow hair, curly. He left his horse at the door.'

Bronwyn had a very bad feeling about this. 'A big horse? White?'

'I believe so. I didn't get more than a glance. Why?'

'Long story,' Bronwyn mumbled. Ebenezer had told her of his rescue by a man who could turn undead to dust. That would make the man a priest-or a paladin. The man who came looking for her, who might have taken Cara, was near Thornhold. What he knew, what he wanted, she could guess all too well.

At that moment the shop bell tinkled, startling them both. Woman and gnome jumped and whirled to face the door. In it stood Danilo Thann, a broad smile in his face and a small, half-elf girl in his arms.

'Cara!' Bronwyn cried. She rushed forward to reclaim the girl, gave her a quick hug, then she set her down and turned her attention to the man. 'Danilo, what happened? Where did you find her?'

'Actually, I did not. Cara was brought to me by some Harpers who happened upon her.'

Bronwyn's face clouded. 'Still watching me?'

'Strictly speaking, no. We've been keeping an eye out for the paladins, and one of them happened by your shop.'

'I should thank you, then,' she said softly, looking at the child. Cara was happily chatting with Alice, telling her all about the ginger cat that she'd almost caught, and wouldn't it make a fine pet?

Bronwyn sighed. 'I promised I would find her father, but I don't know if I can keep her safe until then.'

She spoke softly, but the girl looked up. 'I will be safe, Bronwyn. Look at this. Come to me, Shopscat!'

Before the raven could respond to the summons, the child disappeared. Bronwyn blinked rapidly, as if she could conjure the girl by clearing her vision. There was nothing, save for a childish giggle outside the front door. Before Bronwyn could move, Cara was back, just as abruptly as she left.

'Look!' she said proudly, showing Bronwyn the three bright gems in her hand. 'A ruby, a blue topaz, and a… citrine?' she asked, looking up at Danilo for corroboration.

He nodded, his eyes bright with the child's reflected pleasure. 'That's right. You remember well.'

'Gemjump,' Bronwyn murmured, remembering tales she'd heard of stones that enabled the holder to magically transport to the location of any of the gems. They were rare, and exceedingly expensive. Three of them was a princely gift.

'With these, Cara can get herself out of the occasional tight spot,' Danilo said lightly. 'Put them back in their bag, Cara, the way I showed you.'

The child beamed and did as she was told. Danilo drew Bronwyn aside. 'You've got a remarkable new friend,' he said softly. 'I think you will have your hands full, though.'

Bronwyn nodded. 'Cara is no trouble, but I think she's in trouble. I just don't know how much, or what kind.'

'Let me help you,' Danilo said earnestly. 'Tell me what I can do.'

She smiled at him, her anger nearly forgotten. 'You already have. The gemstones give her a bit of control over her fate. She needs that. And a little control,' she added somberly, 'is usually the best any of us can expect.'

TWELVE

Dag Zoreth had seen his former teacher Malchior give way to anger on only one occasion. Before his ire had cooled, a half battalion of inept soldiers lay on the ground, some fried black by Cyric-granted lighting, a few still jerking spasmodically. As Dag looked at the older priest's angry countenance, he silently rehearsed his own prayer to Cyric. If one of them had to end this conference writhing and twitching on the carpet, Dag would prefer it not be he.

He rose from the chair in deference to the higher ranking priest. 'This is a surprise,' Dag said mildly. 'I did not expect to find you in Waterdeep.'

'No doubt!' the priest retorted. 'What is this I hear about you?'

Dag strolled over to the table and helped himself to a piece of the spiced shrimp that the maid had brought along with the midday meal. A fine place, this inn. This meal was enough for two, and to spare. He took the entire tray and handed it to Malchior. The older priest hardly seemed to notice. He popped one shrimp into his mouth, chewed briefly, and kept talking.

'You have not yet found your sister, but one of our informers has,' Malchior said, punctuating this statement by snatching another shrimp. 'She was asking about a child. Said it was yours.'

Dag shrugged. 'She would not be the first woman to make such a false claim of me. Since I did not know I had a sister, you cannot hold me to account for violation of consanguinity laws.'

The priest stuffed his mouth again and chewed angrily. 'You are sidestepping the question.'

'It has become a habit,' Dag said lightly. 'You have taught me well.'

The priest's eyes narrowed, and he studied the younger man as if he was suddenly considering whether his lessons might have been learned too well. Then the look of speculation was gone, and with it Malchior's ire.

'These are excellent,' he said easily, nodding at the nearly empty tray. 'Perhaps we could start on that savory pie while we speak of other matters? You have heard of the gathering of the paladins. I have some advice on the administration and safeguarding of your new command. That is, if you are willing to listen.'

Malchior's jovial expression was back in place, but Dag was not fooled for a moment. This man was a dangerous enemy, and he wanted Cara. If Dag had to, he would kill him. Until then, he would learn from him.

'My dear Malchior,' Dag said with a smile, 'I am interested in every word you have to say.' And even more interested, Dag thought, in what you choose to keep shrouded in silence.

The glint in the priest's eyes suggested that he sensed Dag's unspoken addition and marked it well. Smiling at each other like a pair of circling sharks, they sat down to play out the game.

'I tell you, Bronwyn, your friend will be a resident at the castle for the rest of' the day,' Danilo swore. 'Several of the messengers who attend the prisoners are Harpers. They will take care to leave young Algorind's request until last.'

Bronwyn nodded and shot a glance toward Cara. The child was kneeling on the floor of the shop, playing some elaborate game of make believe with some chess pieces, and singing softly to herself. 'That's something,' Bronwyn admitted. She bit her lip, considering.

'What?'

'This might sound frivolous,' she warned him.

That amused her friend. 'Remember to whom you're speaking.'

She chuckled and got to the point. 'Cara has spent her life on a small, remote farm. Other than her trip to Water-deep as a prisoner and a brief voyage on a slave ship, she hasn't had a chance to see the world. What better place to begin than Waterdeep?'

He nodded. 'Your reasoning is sound. And you should be safe enough. With your permission, I'll make certain that you are discretely followed and ainpiy protected.'

The years of unseen Harper eyes still rankled. 'And if I did not give my permission?'

'Then I would respect your wishes,' he said. 'Regretfully, but I would respect them.'

He spoke firmly, with not a hint of his usual lazy drawl. Bronwyn believed him. She smiled and turned to Cara. 'Cara, what is your favorite color?'

The little girl looked up, startled by this question. 'I don't think I have one.'

'Well, if you could pick out any dress you liked, what color would it be?'

Feminine longing lit her eyes. 'My foster mother wore purple but said I was not to,' she said. 'She would not say why.'