Beyond the High Road

2

Tanalasta bustled down the Family Hall of House Marliir, one hand tugging at her gown’s brandelle straps, the other holding her skirts off the floor. The corridor seemed a mile long, with an endless procession of white pillars supporting its corbeled arches and a hundred oaken doors lining its walls. On the way down from High Heath, she had stopped so often to restore blighted fields that the journey had taken an extra day, and she had arrived just that morning to discover that the ball gown she’d had sent up from Suzail was a size too large. There had been no chance to see to her father’s birthday gift. She could only trust that Harvestmaster Foley had been able to arrange things on his own.

At last, Tanalasta came to a door with two Purple Dragon guards standing outside. They snapped to attention, clicking their feet and bringing their halberds to their shoulders. Tanalasta stopped and raised her arms over her head.

“Anything out of place, gentlemen?” she asked, executing a slow twirl. “Loose threads, anything showing that shouldn’t?”

The guards glanced at each other nervously and said nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Tanalasta looked down. The gown was an amethyst silk with a tapered bodice and a scooped neckline, and she could imagine something peeking out that a modest princess would prefer to keep hidden. “Tell me.”

The youngest guard extended his arm, shifting his halberd to the stand ready position. “Nothing’s wrong, Princess.” The glimmer of a smile flashed across his lips. “You look… well, stunning. I’d be careful about, showing up the queen.”

Tanalasta’s jaw went slack. “What?”

The older guard shifted his halberd to the stand ready, then stammered, “B-beg your pardon, princess. Lundan meant no offense. It’s just that we haven’t seen you in Suzail for quite some time, and a lot has, er, changed.”

“Truly?” Tanalasta broke into a broad smile, then kissed both men on their cheeks. “Chauntea bless you!”

She pulled the ribbon from her brown hair, setting her long tresses free to cascade down her back, then nodded.

The dazed guards opened the drawing room door, and she entered the chamber to find Dauneth Marliir standing at the marble fireplace with her father and Vangerdahast. The three men were deep in conversation, each sipping a glass of spirits and chuckling quietly at some joke that Tanalasta hoped did not concern her tardiness. Surprisingly, Vangerdahast had made a special effort to dress for the occasion. He had combed his long beard into a snowy white mass, and his ample girth was cloaked in an indigo robe with yellow comets’ that actually seemed to streak across the silk. Dauneth wore a gold-trimmed doublet that was a perfect complement to Tanalasta’s amethyst gown-a coincidence she felt certain had not been left to chance. King Azoun wore a linen tunic and velvet cape in the Royal Purple, with Symylazarr the royal Sword of Honor, hanging in its bejeweled scabbard at his side. With stony features and piercing brown eyes, her father looked as handsome as ever-even if the royal beard had a few more gray streaks than a year ago.

“By the Morninglord!” The gasp came not from the fireplace, but from the wall left of the door. “Can that be my Tanalasta?”

The princess turned to see her mother rising from an elegant chair with gold-leafed spindles. Despite the guard’s warning, Tanalasta saw at once that she did not need to worry about upstaging the queen. Wearing a simple violet dress that only served to emphasize her exquisite carriage, Filfaeril was as stunning as ever. With ice-blue eyes, alabaster skin, and hair the color of honey, she always seemed to be the most beautiful woman in the room, even when she was not trying-and today she was trying.

The queen took Tanalasta by the shoulders and studied her. “The mountains agree with you, my dear. Dauneth said you had changed-but he didn’t say how much!”

The princess feigned disappointment. “No? And I had so hoped to smite him with my dusty traveling clothes.” Tanalasta hugged her mother, then whispered, “And speaking of the good warden-what is he doing here? I thought only the family was to gather in the drawing room.”

“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 Huthduth’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 fingers. “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.

As soon as King Azoun saw what was happening, he cast the briefest glance in his daughter’s direction, so quick that only the most astute of observers would have noted the inherent reproach. Tanalasta returned the gesture with an innocent shrug. She had no wish to sour her father’s mood, lest it affect how he received the birthday gift she had brought from Huthduth, but she had to stand up for herself. If that created a problem, it was Vangerdahast’s doing and not hers.

Azoun pasted a stiff smile on his face, then disengaged himself from Filfaeril. “Lady Marliir, one moment if you please.”

The Marliirs stopped and slowly turned, Raynaar’s face flushed with embarrassment and his wife’s white with mortification. Merelda curtsied deeply and did not rise.

“Y-yes, Majesty?”

The king came down the aisle and took her by the hands. “It has just occurred to me that I have done you a small injustice.” He drew Merelda to her feet. “The royal protocol chamberlain should have invited you and Lord Marliir to walk the carpet with us.”

The woman’s eyes grew round with surprise, and another murmur, much louder than the last, filled the ballroom. “He should have?”

“Quite right,” Azoun said. “A hostess should be honored-especially the hostess of such a grand and lovely ball. I do hope you will pardon the oversight. The protocol chamberlain really is a most dutiful fellow, and it would be a shame for him to spend the rest of the tenday in a dungeon.”

The joke drew the appropriate response from everyone near enough to hear it. Lady Marliir blushed and glanced around to make certain everyone had seen her reputation restored, then Azoun kissed her hand and returned to Filfaeril’s side. The crown princess smiled diplomatically and tried not to show her seething anger. The party had been spared an unseemly scandal, but at no small cost to Tanalasta’s prestige. She could only hope her father would seize the opportunity to undo the damage when she presented her birthday gift.

Dauneth returned to Tanalasta’s side and rather stiffly offered her his arm. Feeling as ill at ease as he did, she slipped a hand through his elbow and followed her parents onto the Royal Rostrum. The trumpets blared, calling the party to order, and the ballroom quieted as they ascended the stairs.

Tanalasta’s anger gave way to thoughtfulness, and she began to wonder if someone had suggested to the poor woman that she push matters along. Of course, her suspicions fell instantly upon Vangerdahast. The old wizard had never been above helping destiny along-especially when Cormyr’s fate depended on it.

They reached the top of the rostrum and found four purple-cushioned thrones, flanked by a pair of simpler chairs for Dauneth and Vangerdahast. Azoun and Filfaeril sat in the middle thrones, and Tanalasta sat in the one to her father’s right. The royal magician dismissed the extra throne with a half-muttered word and a flick of his wrist, then pulled his chair to the queen’s side and dropped onto it heavily. He did not look in Tanalasta’s direction.

Once they were all seated, Dauneth formally welcomed the guests to his family’s home, glossing over the scene of a few moments earlier with an apt joke about the hearing of would-be grandmothers. The announcement that Princess Alusair would not be in attendance was greeted with a murmur of profound disappointment, but the warden quickly recaptured the crowd’s enthusiasm by drawing them into a rousing cycle of sixty-three hoorays-one for each of Azoun’s years. So thunderous were the cheers that they soon had Vangerdahast casting nervous glances at the ballroom’s alabaster cupola.

Once the cheers were finished, Dauneth asked the high nobles to clear a space in front of the rostrum, then brought on a company of singing acrobats. Within minutes, everyone in the room, from the lowliest lord to the king himself, was crying in laughter. Though Tanalasta could not forget Lady Marliir’s behavior, she did find herself able to forgive it-especially given that someone in the royal party had most likely put her up to it. By the time the show ended, the spectators were so exhausted from laughing that many had sunk to the floor holding their ribs.

As the performers cartwheeled and back-flipped out of the chamber, Dauneth invited the high nobles to ascend the rostrum in turn and present their gifts to the king. After the mirth of the acrobats, it was a welcome chance for the audience to relax and refresh themselves, and a pleasant drone descended over the chamber as Azoun opened the artfully wrapped packages. For the most part, the gifts reflected the families that had given them. From the seafaring Dauntinghorns there was an intricately modeled cog of pure gold, with silken sails that furled or unfurled at the tug of a tiny chain. The Hawklins presented an archaic sword crafted in forgotten Netheril, too ancient and brittle to wield in combat, but a valuable addition to the king’s collection in Suzail. Cat and Giogi Wyvernspur produced a huge white stag captured in their Hullack Forest, tame enough to eat from a man’s hand, yet so proud it allowed only the king to approach it.

Azoun thanked each giver profusely, displaying the offering and expressing his appreciation so sincerely that no one in the crowd could doubt how deeply the present had touched him. Tanalasta quickly lapsed into a performance of look, exclaim, and applause that required only a small fraction of her attention-a routine shared by many high nobles as they circulated through the front of the room, conversing quietly and congratulating each other on the genius of their gifts. At the base of the rostrum, Merelda was the center of much attention, even from the aloof Huntsilvers and the ever-envious Illances.

Once the process seemed well underway, Dauneth returned to his seat and leaned over to speak quietly with Tanalasta. “I apologize for my mother’s eagerness. As you can see, she was quite taken with the idea of our marriage.”

Despite her anger, Tanalasta forced herself to smile and speak in a teasing voice. “Of course you have said nothing to encourage her.”

Dauneth withdrew slightly, apparently sensing the pique behind her tone. “I would never presume!”

“No?” Tanalasta pushed her lip out in a parody of a pout. “What of those ‘wild claims’ about my beauty? Are you telling me you said no such thing?”

Dauneth looked confused. “Of course, I find you ravishingly beautiful, but in truth-“

“Say no more, Dauneth. There are some things a princess should not hear.” Tanalasta laughed lightly, then laid a hand on his arm. She glimpsed Lady Marliir drawing Alaslyn Rowanmantle’s attention to the gesture, but did not draw back. If she wanted Dauneth to relax, she had to seem relaxed herself. “Besides, I do not think your mother was the only one eager to push us along.”

Dauneth glanced uneasily toward her parents and Vangerdahast, then said cautiously, “I am sure everyone wants to see you happily wed.”

“Truly? I was under the impression that Vangerdahast just wants to see me wed-happily or not.” Tanalasta gave another laugh. “Really, his schemes are so transparent.”

Dauneth avoided looking in the wizard’s direction. “I am sure he is only thinking of the kingdom’s welfare.”

“So he is the one!”

“The one what?” Dauneth asked.

“The one who convinced your mother to behave as she did.” Continuing to hold Dauneth’s arm, Tanalasta smiled in Merelda’s direction. “I know Lady Marliir’s reputation, Dauneth. She is hardly the kind to blunder in such a matter.”

Dauneth looked as relieved as he did surprised, and Tanalasta knew that in his eagerness to vindicate his mother, he would take her bait. She waited quietly and continued to look in Merelda’s direction, nodding pleasantly when Lady Marliir flashed a puzzled smile.

Finally, Dauneth said, “Now that you mention it, I did see her talking to the royal magician earlier this morning. He must have told her to behave as though we were betrothed.”

“And what did he tell you?” Tanalasta’s tone was casual.

Dauneth turned in his seat. “I beg your pardon?”

“I thought we were going to be honest with each other, good warden.” Tanalasta removed her hand from his arm, then said, “I know Vangey too well to think he would execute only half a plan. When were you to ask me?”

Dauneth closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed. “During our dance. I was to whisper the question in your ear. But I knew nothing about my mother. That surprised me as much as it did you.”

“Which does nothing to excuse your own behavior.” Tanalasta cast a furious glance across the rostrum at Vangerdahast, who remained oblivious to her anger and watched in weary amusement as the king set a silver clockwork cat after a golden mouse. “Why, Dauneth?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you do this?” Tanalasta was struggling to hold back tears of rage. “I know you didn’t do it for the throne-not after the loyalty you showed during the Abraxus Affair. So why did you betray me?”

“I…” Dauneth looked away

Tanalasta noticed several nobles watching from the ballroom floor. She ignored them. “Tell me.”

When Dauneth looked back to her, his face was stern. “I did not betray you. If anyone is a betrayer here, it is you.”

Tanalasta raised her brow, shocked. “Me?”

“To your duty,” Dauneth said. “If you do not produce an heir, the Abraxus Affair will be a mere game compared to what follows your father’s passing.”

“My reign will follow my father’s passing,” Tanalasta said.

“And without an heir of your own, your reign will be one of plots and intrigues, with every noble family maneuvering to claim the throne upon your death. Sooner or later, one of them will see an advantage in assassinating you, and Cormyr will have a usurper for a king-or a war to unseat him.”

“And you think to prevent this travesty by getting a child on me? I think not. I will have a husband I can trust-or none at all.”

The hurt showed in Dauneth’s eyes. “I meant no offense, milady, nor do I say this for my own good, but you must take a husband, and soon. If you are angry with me, there are plenty to choose from.” He pointed into the crowd below. “There is Amanthus Rowanmantle if you fancy someone handsome, or one of the Silversword boys if you like wit, and perhaps even Dier Emmarask if you prefer someone who shares your love of learning.”

“Thank you for the suggestions,” Tanalasta said, struck by the absurdity of Dauneth recommending his own rivals. “If I were to choose a husband I did not love, it would probably be you. Even if I cannot trust you, you are loyal to Cormyr and that counts for much.”

“Thank you, milady.” A hopeful light returned to Dauneth’s eyes. “Do you really have time to think of love? We must think of Cormyr.”

“I am thinking of Cormyr.” Tanalasta started to rebuke the warden for trying to argue her into marrying him, then realized there was no point. She did not love Dauneth, and she was not going to marry him. “I am always thinking of Cormyr.”

“If that is true, you will-“

“Dauneth, please don’t presume to tell me what is good for Cormyr.”

The warden flushed and looked away, clearly aware that he had been doing just that. Tanalasta wanted to explain to him, to tell Dauneth of the vision she had experienced at Huthduth, but how could she expect him to understand something she could barely put into words? The revelation had been one of those slippery things that a sharp mind could twist into a thousand meanings, but in which a true heart perceived only one. How could she trust Dauneth to trust her feelings, when he had already proven that she could not trust him?

“I’m sorry, Dauneth, but it must be love. I really cannot abide less.”

A look of exasperation came over the warden, then he nodded and said, “Very well, milady. I shall fall in love with you on the morrow.”

Tanalasta’s jaw dropped, then she caught the note of self-mockery in his voice. “I wish it were that easy, good warden,” she laughed. “I truly do.” After a moment, she stopped laughing and gently took his hand. “But I fear your feelings would go unrequited. You don’t respect me in your heart, and after Vangerdahast’s meddling, I can never trust you as a woman should her husband. Forgive my bluntness in this matter, but you deserve to know. Your loyalty to Cormyr demands it.”

Dauneth’s face fell, and he sagged away from Tanalasta in shock. The nobles below did not seem to notice. They gasped in awe as Azoun displayed a four-foot dragon carved from a single crystal of amethyst, then applauded Ayesunder Truesilver as he descended the rostrum beaming with pride at the king’s superlative words of royal gratitude.

Seeing that there were no more nobles waiting to ascend the stairs, Dauneth gathered himself together, then went forward to express his admiration for the many treasures strewn across the rostrum. After swearing that it would take a whole caravan of war wizards to return the hoard safely to Suzail, he invited Alaphondar Emmarask to present his gift. The Sage Most Learned ascended the rostrum and presented the king with a massive leather-bound volume entitled, The Dragon Rides: A Complete and Accurate Account of the Life of Azoun IV of Cormyr, Volume Sixty-Two.

Filfaeril drew a raucous round of chuckles by remarking that she hoped it was not “completely complete,” then Vangerdahast stood to present his gift, pulling a simple switch of willow from the billowing sleeve of his robe. The king accepted the stick with a somewhat puzzled look.

“We thank you, Magician,” said Azoun. “What kind of wand is it?”

“None, Majesty. It is a plain switch.” Vangerdahast looked directly at Tanalasta, then added, “I think you shall soon have need of it.”

Much to Tanalasta’s dismay, the wizard’s wry response sent the room into convulsions of laughter. She could do little except pretend to enjoy the joke and fume inwardly. If Vangerdahast could not bend her to his will through tricks and traps, then he seemed determined to undermine her prestige with outright mockery. The princess could imagine the campaign continuing until her father died, and no matter that it would weaken her own crown when she ascended the throne, The old staff swinger believed that only he knew what was good for Cormyr. Usually, he did, and if that had been so this time, Tanalasta would have married Dauneth on the morn. But this time the royal magician was wrong, this time, the future of Cormyr was not a matter of the mind, but of the heart, and she was not sure that Vangerdahast even had a heart.

Once the mirth faded, Dauneth turned to the princess and cocked a querying eyebrow. Though he was careful to maintain an expression of practiced congeniality, the rest of his face was at odds with his broad grin. Hoping the audience could not read his disappointment as clearly as she, Tanalasta smiled and nodded.

Dauneth extended an arm. “Lords and ladies, I give you the Princess Tanalasta Obarskyr.”

Tanalasta took a deep breath, then rose to a polite ovation and stepped to the front of the rostrum. “Thank you.”

The princess needed to say this only once to silence the applause.

“As you know, I have been in retreat at Huthduth for the last year. While the royal magician seems to fear that I have been somehow corrupted by Chauntea’s humble monks-” Tanalasta was interrupted by a round of nervous laughter as she waved at the switch lying across her father’s knees, then continued, “Let me assure you nothing could be further from the truth. The mountains were a place of great peace and harmony for me, and my gift is to bring some of that bounty to King Azoun IV, and through him, to all of Cormyr.”

Tanalasta waved toward the entrance of the ballroom, where Owden Foley stood beneath the Grand Arch with a silk-wrapped gift box the size of a peasant hut. As the crowd turned to look, the Harvestmaster took up a golden rope and began to haul the gift across the floor. At first, his progress was labored and slow, for he seemed able to drag the huge box only a few paces before stopping to rest. Several minor nobles volunteered their help, which he gladly accepted.

The lords began to haul on the cord, and the box flew toward them so fast that they fell to the floor in a heap. A puzzled silence descended over the chamber, until Owden returned to take the golden rope. Claiming that earls and counts were too clumsy for such dangerous work, Owden shooed them away to a chorus of laughter, then resumed his labored trek toward the rostrum. This time, however, the box seemed to have a will of its own, sometimes flying toward him so fast that he barely kept from being run over, other times refusing to budge no matter how he pulled, cursed, or kicked at it. By the time he reached the rostrum and climbed the stairs to present the cord to Tanalasta, the ballroom was shaking with laughter.

Tanalasta beamed, for she and Owden had worked out the act together, spending much of her last tenday in Huthduth choreographing every move. She thanked the Harvestmaster for his hard work, then presented the rope to her chuckling father.

“You have but to pull the cord, Sire.”

“If I dare!” Azoun chuckled. He stood as though bracing himself for an onslaught, then jerked the cord.

The walls of the box fell instantly away, revealing twelve guilty-looking monks on a small pedalcart crowded with large earthenware kettles. As the audience erupted into guffaws, two of the priests leaped off the cart and placed a pair of pots on the lowest step of the rostrum, then spoke a quick prayer to Chauntea. By the time they had finished, two more monks were placing another pair of pots on next step.

As this duo spoke their prayers, a pair of small trees sprouted from the first two kettles and began to grow before the eyes of the astonished crowd. Another team of priests ascended the rostrum and placed their pots on the third stair, and so it continued until a pair of pots had been placed on every step. The trees blossomed as they grew, drawing gasps of wonder and delight from everyone in the room save Vangerdahast, who regarded the whole display with an air of wary impatience.

The last blossoms had barely appeared before the limbs of the first trees began to grow heavy with fruit. Smiling in delight, the king descended three steps and plucked a pear from the branch, then bit into it with relish.

“The sweetest fruit I have ever tasted!” he announced. The king used his sleeve to wipe the juices from his beard, then climbed the stairs back to Tanalasta. “A most excellent gift, Princess. We thank you for this wondrous orchard of mountain fruit trees!”

Tanalasta smiled and curtsied. “You are very welcome, Majesty, but I fear the trees will fade as quickly as they grew. It is not the orchard I am giving you. It is the priests.”

Azoun’s smile grew confused. “The priests?” He looked from her to Harvestmaster Foley to the twelve monks waiting to collect the dying trees, then finally leaned close to Tanalasta’s ear. “I don’t understand, my dear. Surely, you don’t mean to say that you have brought me slaves?”

“Hardly.” Buoyed by the success of Owden’s entrance, Tanalasta spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear, “I have persuaded Harvestmaster Foley and his priests to return home with us to establish the Royal Temple of Chauntea.”

Azoun’s expression changed from one of confusion to one of shock, and Vangerdahast stepped to the king’s side at once.

“The Royal Temple of Chauntea?” the old wizard gasped. “She can’t be serious!”

“I am quite serious.” Tanalasta ignored the ire in Vangerdahast’s voice and spoke directly to the nobles below. “The Royal Temple is established to ensure the health of all lands in Cormyr. We shall start with those blighted fields right here in the north.”