Thornhold by Elaine Cunningham Page B

feats at arms.”
    “This is no easy matter,” Sir Gareth agreed. “Our brother Hronulf has long believed his family dead. Now we learn that there is a son. Unless this lost son—no less than a priest of Cyric—accepts Tyr’s grace, there is little we can do for him. His child, however, is another matter.”
    Mantasso folded massive arms and stared the knight down. “The message says that the little girl is kept in safe fosterage, happy with the family who has raised her from birth, and innocent of the evil her father has chosen. Have we any right to disturb this?”
    “Not only right, but duty,” Laharin said sternly. “Of course she must be brought under the care and instruction of the order. And the possibility, however slight, that she may have in her possession one of the Rings of Sa.mular adds urgency to the matter. But how to proceed?”
    “With your indulgence, Master Laharin, I propose that the answer is right before us,” Sir Gareth said in his courtly manner. “What of this lad? I hear tell that he is the best and brightest of the crop, and more than ready for his paladin’s quest. Charge him with finding the girl and the ring.”
    A heartbeat passed, and then another, before Algorind realized they were speaking of him. They were thinking of granting him a paladin’s quest! He had not expected such honor for another year at least!
    “I take it you are willing,” Laharin said dryly, studying Algorind’s shining face.
    “More than willing! Grateful, my lords, to serve Tyr and his holy Order, in this manner or any other.”
    “He is eager, that is without question,” grumbled Mantasso. The big priest stirred impatiently, drawing an ominous creak from his wooden chair. “Before you continue, I must speak my mind on this matter!”
    “Of course,” Laharin said in a tightly controlled voice. “Why should this matter be different from any other?”
    Algorind blinked, astonished by this sign of disharmony among the Masters. Mantasso, who was watching him keenly, noted this and shook his head in exasperation.
    “I mean no disrespect to any present,” the big priest said, “but this youth belongs in the clergy, not the military order. Is it not our mandate as servants of Tyr to use all our gifts in his service? All? Algorind possesses learning and languages, a quick mind, and a potential for both scholarship and leadership. His knowledge of map lore is remarkable, and he is well spoken and comely. In the priesthood, he could go far and accomplish much, influencing many to the cause of Tyr. But how many paladins live to see their thirtieth winter? Even their twenty-fifth? Perhaps two or three in a hundred! You venerable gentlemen in this chamber are not the rule, but the rare exception!”
    “And Algorind is not exceptional?” retorted Laharin. “We are well aware of the young paladin’s gifts and potential. The Order needs men of his talent and dedication. The matter is settled.” He turned to Algorind. “You have your duty, brother. See that you fulfill it well.”
    Algorind rose, too full of joy for words, and bowed deeply to the Master. He left the study to attend to his quest, certain that nothing could exceed the glory of this moment.
    Sir Gareth followed him and hailed him to a stop. The famed paladin offered Algorind his hand, clasped wrists with him as if Algorind was already a fellow knight. Nor did he leave the matter there. They walked together, and Sir Gareth offered him guidance and advice, instructing him on what steps must be taken once the child was rescued.
    Such fellowship was more honor than Algorind had ever dreamed of. He listened carefully, storing each detail in his carefully trained memory. By the time Algorind’s gear was packed and his white horse readied, Sir Gareth pronounced him ready.
    “You will bring honor to the order, my son,” the great man assured him with a kind smile. “Remember the knightly virtues: courage, honor, justice. To these, I add another: discretion. This is a subtle matter. It is