'Very well, then.' Piergeiron set his wine goblet down. Far from insulted, he looked relieved to be back on familiar ground. With admirable directness, the First Lord set his concerns out, based on Sir Gareth's report.
'Let me put your mind at rest,' the archmage said at once. 'Bronwyn is indeed a Harper agent. She does have an artifact of Tyr in her possession, that much is true, but she is on her way, even as we speak, to Summit Hall, a monastery of Tyr.'
Piergeiron's expression eased. Danilo cast a furtive look at the archmage, wondering if he felt even a twinge of guilt for misleading his old friend. Khelben had not actually stated that Bronwyn was returning the ring, but clearly Piergeiron thought that this was the case. It did not seem that Khelben intended to disabuse him of that notion.
'I am relieved to hear this, my friend, but I must admit to some lingering doubt about Bronwyn's intentions. According to Sir Gareth, she has been asking around for a priest of Cyric. Her brother, no less.'
Khelben did not so much as blink. 'She has reason to seek him out. The Harpers and the Zhentarim have long been foes.'
Another truth that cloaked a lie, Danilo mused. Was this, then, what Harpers must become? As time went on would he, like Khelben, so manipulate his oldest friends and twist the truth to serve the Balance? Later, he would have to give this matter serious consideration, but this was not the time. He schooled his face to reveal nothing of his troubled thoughts.
Khelben leaned forward. 'To speak truly, Piergeiron, I would be wary of Sir Gareth's motives in this matter.'
The First Lord looked offended. 'He is a paladin of Tyr!'
'He is of the Order of the Knights of Samular,' Khelben specified. 'I do not argue that the paladins are anything but good and holy men, but I am wary of the orders. One man's righteous conviction is a fine thing, but imagine the evil that could be done by so many, of such power, in the single-minded pursuit of a goal they believe to be good. I would hate to see Bronwyn swept up in such a rushing tide.'
Piergeiron shook his head in astonishment. 'I do not believe what I am hearing.'
'At least consider my words. I have long looked askance at the military orders, especially the followers of Samular. Recently, I have come to suspect that there might be good and sufficient reason for this.'
The First Lord rose, his face stern and his eyes shuttered. 'When, and if, you find evidence to support this unease, please tell me at once. You will forgive me if I do not wish to speak of this again until that time.'
Khelben rose in response to the dismissal. If he felt the chill of his friend's tone, it did not show in his eyes. 'Believe me, my friend, when I tell you that I hope I am wrong on this matter.'
They moved swiftly through the polite gestures and words of leave-taking, and the Harpers left the palace. As they made their way back through the tunnel, Khelben's silence was heavy, troubled. It occurred to Danilo for the first time that the archmage might finally have entered a battle that he could not hope to win. How could any man go against paladins without appearing to side with evil? And what man alive-especially a man who had lived Khelben's long years and wielded his vast power-did not have in his past some secrets that would support this supposed charge of wrongdoing? Danilo did not know of any particulars, but Khelben's reaction when they discussed the history of the Knights of Samular led him to believe that at least a few of the archmage's secrets might be bound up with this order.
'What you said to Piergeiron…' Danilo ventured. 'You spoke of this thing ending badly, but hoped that your predictions would prove wrong. Do you believe that a likely possibility?'
The archmage sniffed. 'Do you want an honest answer?' A wry smile lifted the corner of Danilo's lips. 'I suppose not.'
'I've noticed,' Khelben said in a voice heavy with weariness, 'that people seldom do.'
FOURTEEN
The ride to Summit Hall passed more swiftly than Bronwyn had anticipated. Ebenezer's blue pony, for all his disagreeable nature, had a tireless stride and a stubborn streak as wide as the dwarf's backside. Blue Devil, as Ebenezer aptly named the beast, would not concede the pace to Bronwyn's swifter mare, and he trotted along as if challenging the horse to match him.
Shopscat came along with them, sometimes perched on the pack horse, sometimes taking wing and flying in wide circles overhead. 'Why the raven?' Ebenezer wanted to know. 'You're looking to scare off shoplifters out here?'
He gestured to the wide expanse of wilderness about them. This was their second day of hard travel. They had forded the Dessarin River early that morning and were now following the Dessarin Road north. The day before, the path had followed several small villages and outlying farms, and riders and caravans waved a friendly salute as they passed. Today they had seen only two other bands of travelers, and both of those early that morning. But for the path itself, this place had little sign of habitation. The trees over much of the road were dense and tall enough to meet overhead. The summer shade would be pleasant, but Bronwyn was just as glad that the trees were still lightly clad with buds and leaflets of golden green. When fully leafed, the trees would provide ample cover for bandits and predators.
'Why the raven?' she echoed. 'Sometimes he carries messages back to Alice. Why the pack horse?'
Ebenezer shrugged. 'Habit. Never know when you'll find something worth hauling to market.'
She chuckled. 'Now you're sounding like a treasure hunter.'
'Been known to do it. There's worse ways of earning your keep. Harpering being one of them, I'm guessing.'
She slid a speculative look at the dwarf. His studiously casual tone proclaimed a certain interest. Dwarves, as a rule, liked to keep to themselves and avoided meddling like they avoided water, but Ebenezer was a curious sort with interests that ranged far beyond those of his kin.
'It's not really the way I earn my keep, although I suppose some people do. Being a Harper is one way to be a part of something, rather than one person alone.'
'Sort of like a clan,' he reasoned.
'I don't know much about the ties of fanuly, but I suppose you could say that. Look up ahead,' she interrupted, pointing.
For about an hour now, the trees had been thinning out and getting smaller. To the north of them, the scene opened up, changing from forest to wild, rolling hills. In the distance, the path twisted up the side of a particularly steep knoll.
'Caves hereabouts,' the dwarf proclaimed, eyeing the rocky hills to the north. 'Prime goblinkin country. Orcs, mostly likely. Best to look for a defensible camp before nightfall.'
They rode until twilight and set up camp on a hill not far from Summit Hall. Ebenezer found a small cave, one with a small opening so hidden that Bronwyn couldn't see it until he pulled aside the brush to show her.
'Wait a mite,' he said, and then disappeared into the opening. He emerged in moments, briskly dusting off his hands. 'Good cave. No orc sign, and the ceiling's too low for orcs to stand and fight. Even has a small escape tunnel. Tight fit for me, but I'll keep the stew down to two helpings tonight.'
The hopeful tone in his voice brought a grin to Bronwyn's face. 'Isn't it your turn to cook?'
'How about I catch the rabbits?'
'Fair enough.' Bronwyn turned toward the packhorse to unload their gear. There, perched on the packs and grinning like a cream-sated tabby, was Cara.
Bronwyn fell back and yelped in surprise. 'How did you get here?' she demanded.
But she knew even as she spoke. Suddenly Cara's behavior at the wail of Blackstaff Tower made perfect sense. Her reluctance to part was a ploy-a way for her to plant her gem stone in the horse's packs. Bronwyn wasn't sure whether to be amused, touched, or exasperated. She pressed her fingers to her temples as if by so doing she could still her pounding pulse.
'Well, now. This is a fine how'd-you-do,' Ebenezer said, folding his arms and pretending to scowl. 'Can't hardly march into that nest of paladins with the kid, seeing as how the ones in Waterdeep are so all-fired-up to keep her.'
