by Troy Denning
“Vangerdahast’s idea, I’m afraid.” The queen’s whisper was sympathetic, but she stepped back with a cocked brow. “Is that a problem?”
Tanalasta sighed. “Not really-but I had hoped to have a few words with you and the king. There’s something I must tell-“
“Princess, you look absolutely bewitching!”
Tanalasta looked up to see Dauneth leading her father and Vangerdahast away from the fireplace. Giving up any hope of a private moment, she smiled and presented her hand.
“Thank you, Dauneth, but what did we say about my name?”
The warden blushed and kissed her band. “Forgive me, Tanalasta.”
The approving glances that shot between Vangerdahast and Azoun did not escape Tanalasta’s notice.
She curtsied to her father and said, “I apologize for being tardy, but we made a rather alarming discovery on the way from Huthduth.”
“Yes, yes, Dauneth has told me all about the blighted fields.” Azoun took his daughter’s hand, then gave her a gently reproachful smile. “A princess really shouldn’t trouble herself with such things. That’s why we have wizards, you know.”
“Oh?” Tanalasta looked to Vangerdahast, who was eyeing her up and down, appraising her as a man might a horse. “The royal magician has determined the nature of the problem?”
“The royal magician has more important things to do than watch barley grow,” Vangerdahast replied, “but Merula the Marvelous has assured me that this ‘blight’ is not serious-certainly no reason to keep the king waiting.”
“Merula? What does that wand waver know about farming?” Despite her tone, Tanalasta was secretly relieved. Had the royal magician already discovered the nature of the problem, the value of her gift would have been less apparent. She smiled at her father. “If you want to know what’s happening, you must ask Harvestinaster Foley-“
“As I certainly will,” Azoun interrupted, “if you will be good enough to introduce us-after the party.”
“Of course,” Tanalasta said, secretly delighted. Even for her, it was not easy to arrange an introduction without first winning the consent of the royal magician, and the king’s willingness to meet Owden Foley without Vangerdahast’s approval bode well for her gift.
“I doubt the blight will overrun Cormyr during the celebration,” she conceded. “I do apologize for keeping you waiting.”
The king’s smile broadened. “Are we running late? I really hadn’t noticed-and even if I had, the wait was well worth it.” He turned to Vangerdahast, “Don’t you think so, old wizard?”
The royal magician regarded Tanalasta sourly, then said, “She has lost weight, though I don’t find it healthy for a woman to be so bony especially not at Tanalasta’s age.”
Filfaeril slapped the wizard’s shoulder. “Vangerdahast! Tanalasta was hardly large when she left.”
“There’s no need to defend me, Mother,” Tanalasta said. She forced a smile and patted the wizard lightly on his ample belly. “Vangey and I understand each other, don’t we, Your Portliness?”
Vangerdahast eyes widened. “I see you have gained in cheek what you have lost from other places. If you will excuse me, I have an important matter to attend to.”
The wizard retreated across the room to sprawl on a burgundy settee, where he put his head back and closed his eyes. Filfaeril smiled approvingly, but the expression on Azoun’s face was more pained.
“I wish you wouldn’t antagonize him, Tanalasta. He is going to be your-“
“My Royal Magician
I know.” Tanalasta took a deep breath, then launched into a prepared response. “While it would behoove us all to remember that it is the magician who serves the crown and not the reverse, there is no need to lecture me on Vangerdahast’s virtues. My regard for him is as deep as your own-even if I no longer choose to quietly abide his slights.”
The king raised his brow, but Tanalasta took heart from the surprised twinkle in her mother’s eye and refused to back down. After the Abraxus Affair, she and Vangerdahast had spent a few months traveling together, and the ordeal had been enough to convince the princess she could no longer allow the royal magician to intimidate her. While he had helped her learn the ways of the world and forget her humiliation at the hands of Aunadar Bleth, he had also attempted to dampen her emerging interest in Chauntea and steer her down ‘more appropriate’ paths of inquiry. The trip had finally come to a bad end when the princess rebelled and declared her decision to enter the House of Huthduth. She could only imagine what Vangerdahast had told her parents about the decision, but she felt certain he had been less than candid about his own part in the events that caused it.
At last, the king laid a hand on Tanalasta’s shoulder. “I see you have found some iron in those mountains,” he said. “That is good, but if you wish to make a fist of it, you mustn’t forget the velvet that covers it.”
Tanalasta tipped her head, deciding it wiser not to put the king into a bad mood by protesting such a gentle rebuke. “I will bear your advice in mind, Father.”
“Good.” The king smiled, then led her toward the settee, where Vangerdahast still sat with his head back and eyes closed. “Now let’s see if we can locate your sister and get this party underway.”
The mage lifted his head. “We’ll have to start without Alusair, I’m afraid.”
“Start without her?” demanded Filfaeril. The queen narrowed her pale eyes. “Where is she?”
“I-er-I don’t know, exactly.” His face reddening, Vangerdahast hefted himself off the settee. “Still in the Stonelands, perhaps. I have just contacted her, but all she said was ‘not now, Old Snoop.’”
“Then go get her! We decided to have the king’s party in Arabel so-“Filfaeril caught herself and glanced in Dauneth’s direction, then began again, “When we decided to accept Raynaar Marliir’s kind invitation to host the celebration, it was to make it easier for both our daughters to attend.”
“So it was, Majesty” Vangerdahast said, inclining his head, “but I am afraid Alusair has removed her ring again.”
Tanalasta saw Dauneth’s eyes flick to the signet rings on the hand of each royal.
“I have a thirst, Dauneth.” She took the warden’s arm and directed him toward the door. ‘Would you fetch me a sherry?”
“You needn’t send him away, Tanalasta.” The king toyed briefly with his signet ring, then continued, “I think we can trust Dauneth with our little secret. Besides, the warden knows more about this situation than you do.”
As if to prove the king correct, Dauneth turned to Tanalasta and said, “Emperel is missing.”
“Missing?” Tanalasta asked, feeling slighted that the king had not seen fit to send word of this to her in Huthduth. Emperel was the confidential guardian of the “Sleeping Sword,” a secret company of brave young lords put into magical hibernation as a precaution against an ancient prophecy forecasting Cormyr’s destruction. That the king trusted Dauneth with this covert knowledge was a sign of his confidence in the man, and also of his faith that the good warden would one day be his son-in-law. “What happened?”
“That is what Alusair went to find out,” said Azoun. He turned to Vangerdahast. “Should we be concerned about her?”
“Of course!” the wizard snapped. “The girl will never learn. You know how many times I have told her not to remove her ring. What if it was an important matter?”
“The matter is important,” said Filfaeril. “This is Azoun’s sixty-third birthday. Alusair’s absence speaks volumes, and not only to us.”
“Let us not overstate matters,” said the king. “I’m sure she has a good reason for not being here.”
Tanalasta bit her tongue, knowing it would only make her seem jealous to point out the double standard. It was perfectly fine for Alusair to vanish into the Stonelands and forgo his birthday celebration without so much as a word of apology yet it would not do for the crown princess to speak sharply to Vangerdahast. It was no wonder Tanalasta felt more at home in H
uthduth’s austerity than in the luxury of her family’s palace.
The king offered his arm to Filfaeril, then turned toward the great double doors leading into the ballroom. “Vangerdahast, you will have to enter alone,” the king said, “and do keep trying to reach Alusair. I’m sure she would contact you if she needed help, but with Emperel missing…”
Vangerdahast nodded. “I’ll pass word when I reach her.”
The royal magician extended his hand toward the door, producing several loud raps. From the other side came the barked command of a guard and the muffled blare of trumpets, then the doors swung open. The king and queen stepped through to a thunderous roar of applause.
Dauneth stepped to Tanalasta’s side and offered her his arm. “If I may.”
“Of course.”
Tanalasta looped her hand through the crook of his elbow and stepped into House Marliir’s famous Rhodes Room. The huge ballroom was so packed with nobles that she could see nothing of its renowned treasures, save the gold-leafed capitals of its marble columns and the luminescent vault of its alabaster cupola. Her parents were about ten steps ahead, strolling down a plush purple runner that demarcated the Aisle of Courtesy, a small lane to be kept clear for the royals alone. They were simply nodding and waving as they passed the lesser nobles in the rear of the room, but their progress would slow to a crawl as they stopped to exchange pleasantries with the important nobles waiting in the front of the chamber near the Royal Rostrum.
Tanalasta forced a smile and followed, acutely conscious of’ the rising brows and appraising gazes that greeted her passage. She did not doubt that even the lowest baron present knew how Aunadar Bleth had tricked her into falling in love with him, then tried to seize the throne. Their applause was polite but subdued, a sure sign of the concern they felt over what would become of Cormyr when she took her father’s place. The princess continued to smile and nod, calling upon memories of green mountain meadows to remain calm and composed. The first step to restoring her reputation was to appear confident in herself, and to do that she had to be relaxed inside.
As they progressed up the Aisle of Courtesy, the wool tabards and linen smocks of the lesser nobles gave way to embroidered capes and chiffon gowns. Brass closures and pewter brooches began to appear in strategic locations, often decorated with brilliant tiger eyes or ghostly moon crystals. Dauneth greeted these men and women by name, and Tanalasta would say what a pleasure it was to make their acquaintance. They never failed to return her smile with somewhat dazed expressions, a sign the princess took to mean she was making a better impression than expected.
Tanalasta and Dauneth reached the high nobles at the front of the room, where the air smelled of sweet lavender oil and lilac water. The chamber seemed lit by the twinkle of sparkling rubies and gleaming sapphires, and the low murmur of self-important voices reverberated in the pit of her stomach. The men wore feathered caps and doublets of brilliant silk, while the women had gowned themselves in veritable yards of lace and gossamer. Unlike the lower nobles standing farther back, the lords and ladies gathered here knew the royal family well, and they did not hesitate to compliment the queen’s appearance or congratulate Azoun on another year. Tanalasta thought of mountain brooks and pushed her smile wider, then entered the gauntlet.
She turned first to the families of five young nobles who had tried to assassinate her late in the Abraxus Affair, both to show she held no grudges and to prove she did not fear them. The dukes managed to stammer out their compliments, but the duchesses were so stunned they could hardly return her greeting. Tanalasta took her leave graciously, then breathed a sigh of relief and led Dauneth down the aisle to more comfortable territory. Her friends the Wyvernspurs were next, Cat looking resplendent in pearl-white, Giogi as flamboyant and affable as always in gold-trimmed velvet.
“By the Lady, Princess!” Giogi embraced Tanalasta warmly, then stood back to admire her with a frankly lascivious gaze. “What happened? You’ve become a real beauty!”
“Giogi!” Cat slapped her mate on the shoulder, then stepped to the edge of the purple carpet to wrap her strong arms around Tanalasta. “Forgive my husband, Princess, you know what a clod he can be.”
“I will take Giogi’s compliments over a Bleth’s flattery any day,” Tanalasta laughed. She motioned to Dauneth. “You remember the good warden, I am sure.”
Cat’s eyes twinkled as she took in Dauneth’s gold-trimmed doublet, noting how it complimented Tanalasta’s amethyst gown-and how close its indigo fabric came to the royal purple.
“As handsome as ever.” Cat squeezed Tanalasta’s hand, then leaned close to whisper, “You’re a lucky woman, my dear.”
Tanalasta raised a brow, but said nothing about the hastiness of her friend’s assumption. “We’ll talk later, Cat.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Cat released her hand and curtsied. “I want to hear all about your adventures in Huthduth.”
“Adventures?” Giogi asked, looking confused. “Isn’t Huthduth a monastery?”
“It is.” Cat elbowed him in the ribs. “Take your leave, Giogi.”
Giogi bowed. “Until later, Princess.”
Tanalasta acknowledged the bow with a friendly nod, then continued up the Aisle of Courtesy. They had now closed to within a few paces of the Royal Rostrum, where Tanalasta was delighted to see the tall, white-haired figure of Alaphondar Emmarask standing slightly apart from the crowd. As the Sage Most Learned of the Royal Court, Alaphondar was Tanalasta’s instructor in law, philosophy, history, and almost everything else. The two had become far more than friends over three decades of study, though never in the way sometimes whispered in the royal halls. Hoping to have a few words with him about the blight that had delayed her journey from Huthduth, she pulled Dauneth gently forward-only to have a stumpy little woman step onto the Aisle of Courtesy and block her way.
“Princess Tanalasta, your beauty exceeds even the wildest claims of my son.”
So shocked was Tanalasta that she required a moment to comprehend what she was seeing. The woman was draped in organdy and pearls, with sapphires dangling from her earlobes and rubies glittering on every available digit-even her thumbs. Her powdered hair was piled into a spiraling tower and held in place by eight diamond hairpins arranged in a moonlike crescent. Clearly, the woman was a dame of the realm, yet she behaved as though she knew no better than to block a royal’s path.
A pair of bodyguards slipped past the princess and took positions to both sides of the woman, awaiting some sign of how to handle the situation. Tanalasta glanced at Dauneth, whose reddening face confirmed the duchess’s identity, then decided not to have the woman removed. The warden disengaged himself politely and went to his dauntless mother’s side.
“Your Highness, may I present my mother, Lady Merelda Marfiir.”
Tanalasta sensed a spreading circle of silence and knew that half the nobles of the realm were watching to see how she handled the delicate situation-and also to judge the progress of Dauneth’s courtship. The princess did not gesture the duchess to rise, but neither did she insult the woman by signaling the guards to return her to her proper place.
“Lady Marliir, how kind of you to present yourself.” As Tanalasta spoke, she glimpsed her parents at the base of the rostrum, watching in shock. “I have been looking for you. I wish to express my gratitude for hosting the king’s birthday party.”
Merelda flushed in delight. “Not at all. The pleasure is mine,” she said, rising without invitation. If the woman heard the gasps that surrounded her, her fleshy smile did not betray it. “I am so happy to meet you, my dear. Dauneth has told me so much about you.”
“Indeed?”
“Oh yes.” Oblivious to the ice in Tanalasta’s voice, Merelda glanced around to be certain her fellow noblewomen were watching, then took her son’s hand and stepped forward. “He speaks of you all the time, and only in the fondest terms, I assure you.”
Dauneth’s face turned as red as the rubies on his mother’s finge
rs. “Mother, please.” He clasped her hand tightly and tried unsuccessfully to draw her toward the edge of the carpet, where Raynaar Marliir stood looking on in helpless mortification. “Are you trying to disadvantage me with the princess?”
The question drew a round of good natured chuckles from everyone but Tanalasta, who was fast losing patience with Lady Marliir Evidently, the woman believed she could bend Tanalasta to her will as easily as had the traitor Aunadar Bleth. The princess glanced in her parents’ direction, silently signaling them to give her some help before she was forced to embarrass their hostess. The king started to turn toward the rostrum, which would trigger the trumpet blast calling the party to order, then glanced over Tanalasta’s shoulder at Vangerdahast and suddenly stopped.
“I am so looking forward to-“
“Don’t say it, please,” Tanalasta warned. Her sharp tone was due as much to her ire at having her signal overridden by Vangerdahast as her impatience with Lady Marliir. “It would be embarrassing-“
“Embarrassing? My dear, Dauneth dances better than that.” Merelda threw her head back and joined the other nobles in a round of laughter, then caught Tanalasta’s hand between hers. “But if you don’t approve of his footwork, you will have plenty of time to correct it-won’t you?”
The silence grew as thick as smoke, and Tanalasta found it impossible to control her mounting anger. If the king insisted on allowing Vangerdahast to countermand his daughter’s wishes, then it would be up to him to deal with the consequences. The princess jerked her hand from the woman’s grasp, and put on her most guileless smile.
“I am sorry, Duchess Marliir. I cannot follow your meaning. Are you under the impression that Dauneth and I are betrothed?”
A quiet murmur filled the room, and Lady Marliir’s smile stiffened into a cringe. Her jaw began to work fitfully, trying to string a series of disjointed syllables into some sort of explanation, but Tanalasta refused to give the woman a chance to push her further. She looked to the guards, but Dauneth was already pressing his mother into the grasp of her flabbergasted husband. Duke Marliir clamped onto his wife’s elbow and turned toward the nearest exit.