Beyond the High Road

8

The cabbage had already started to go, the big leaves curling and turning brown along the edges, the immature heads wilting open. A tall beggar in a ragged cape was striding across the field diagonally, paying no heed to the angry free farmer hurling insults and dirt clods in his direction. In the dusky light, the intruder was a mere silhouette half again as tall as a man, with a lurching gait and beady red eyes just bright enough to be seen beneath his billowing hood.

“That’s the signal,” Azoun whispered. “He has them.”

“Well done, Sire,” said Dauneth Marliir. “It will be good to be done with these rabble.”

“They’re hardly rabble, Lord Warden.” Azoun eased his horse into the shadows beneath a young ash. “They’re trying to help.”

“Yes, but help whom?” Dauneth followed him into the shadows. “I am sure it has occurred to His Majesty that they might be spreading this alarm purposely, to win support for their royal temple. And I must say it’s working. As matters stand now, the blight could spoil half the fields in the realm and the peasants would still hold these seed fingers as heroes.”

A dozen riders burst from the woods on the other side of the field and started across at a full gallop, yelling promises of restitution as they passed. The beggar, now only a few paces from the ambush site, paid his pursuers no attention and continued forward at the same even stride.

“If the blight takes half the fields in the realm, perhaps they would be heroes,” said Azoun. “It would certainly mean we have not been seeing to our duties, Lord Warden. Besides, Owden and his priests are not the only ones who have seen the blight-spreader.”

“Indeed-the peasants see the fellow everywhere,” said Dauneth. “In Bospir, they burned another tinker at the stake this morning-and he wasn’t even tall. This one just happened to be wearing a black cloak when a free farmer saw him doing his business by the side of the road.”

Azoun winced. That was the seventh lynching he had heard of in the last three days, and the rate seemed to be increasing. Perhaps he should have listened to Dauneth two days ago and sent a squad of war wizards to track down the “Badgeless Maces” then, but he had not wanted to embarrass Tanalasta by returning her friends to Arabel in shackles. Moreover, he had regarded Dauneth’s motives as somewhat suspect, fearing the young lord had made the suggestion out of anger at Tanalasta.

Of course, Azoun should have known better. The High Warden was too loyal to let his personal feelings interfere with duty. The priests had indeed created the panic Dauneth feared, and now innocent people were being killed. The king was almost relieved to find his own judgment in this matter less sound than that of the High Warden, it suggested that Dauneth was not holding a grudge, and the throne had need of a loyal warden in Arabel. Once they brought Owden Foley and the “Badgeless Maces” under control, perhaps Azoun could even declare the damage wrought by Tanalasta undone.

The red-eyed beggar lurched past Azoun’s hiding place and disappeared into the trees at the rear of the small clearing, the Badgeless Maces close behind. A row of Purple Dragons emerged from the trees to meet the company of priests. The dragoneers wore their visors raised and held their lances posted on their stirrup rests, but their grim expressions left no doubt that they were present on a serious matter. The Badgeless Maces hauled back on their reins, barely managing to bring their mounts to a stop before the dragoneers.

As confused as they were, the priests remained determined to capture their quarry. A handful tried to ease through the Purple Dragons only to find their way blocked by a lowered lance. Several more wheeled around to circle the line, only to find another row of dragoneers emerging from the trees to block their way. Even then, it did not seem to occur to the priests that this was anything more than a chance meeting.

“What are you doing?” Owden gestured into the woods where the tall beggar had disappeared. “After that man! He’s a danger to the land!”

“Hardly.” Merula the Marvelous stepped out of the wood, his eyes still glowing red and the hood of his black cloak now pulled down on his collar “I am not the one riding about the north, scaring witless peasants half-to-death with tales of dark phantoms and impending famine.”

Owden’s shoulders slumped, then he lowered his mace and fixed his gaze on the portly wizard. “Merula the Massive? Explain yourself! You’re interfering with a royal commission charged with a matter of the highest urgency.”

“Really?” Azoun urged his horse out of his hiding place behind the priests, bringing with him Dauneth Marliir and the final rank of Purple Dragons. “Strange, I do not recall commissioning a company of ‘Badgeless Maces’ into the Purple Dragons.”

The entire band of priests wheeled at once, their faces paling at the sight of Azoun’s battle-crowned helm.

“Majesty!”

Owden swung out of his saddle, then knelt on the ground and bowed his head. His priests followed half a step behind, moving so quickly that several overcautious dragoneers lowered their lances.

Azoun motioned the lances up again, then continued to look at Owden and his priests. “In fact, I don’t recall commissioning any company of priests at all, nor charging them with…” He looked to Dauneth. “What was the phrase, Lord Warden?”

“I believe it was ‘A matter of the highest urgency,’ Sire.”

“Ah yes.” Azoun repeated the phrase as though trying to refresh his memory then shook his head. “No, I’m quite certain I never said such a thing.”

Owden dared to raise his head. “Forgive my presumption, Majesty, but we, ah, assumed the title.”

“Assumed, Harvestmaster Owden?” asked Merula. He stepped to Owden’s side, then glanced in Dauneth’s direction. “That would make you an imposter, you know. It would make you all impostors.”

The king bit his tongue, trying desperately to hide a sudden surge of anger. Merula was doing his best to place Owden in the untenable position of confessing to the impersonation of a royal agent, or admitting that Tanalasta had defied the king’s order. Apparently, the wizard remained concerned about the War Wizards’ future after Tanalasta took the throne-this despite Azoun’s personal guarantee that their position would be secure no matter who succeeded him.

“Perhaps it was Princess Tanalasta who commissioned you, Harvestmaster?” Merula continued to look at Dauneth.

Azoun forced himself to keep an impassive face and stay silent. The matter fell under the purview of the Lord High Warden, and any interference from the king would be taken either as a sign of favor to the priests, or as a lack of confidence in the crown princess’s obedience to duty.

“I am sorry to say that Princess Tanalasta did not commission us.” Owden addressed himself directly to Azoun. “You see, Sire, it was something of an emergency. We happened across a free farmer who had seen the blight-bearer-“

“This tall beggar you have been asking about,” said Azoun, happy for any pretext to take control of the conversation. “You know, of course, that your inquiries have created a panic.”

“I apologize, Majesty,” Owden said, plucking at his purple cape, “but that is the reason for our disguises. We had hoped the inquiries of a company of Purple Dragons would seem less conspicuous.”

“And well they might have, if you had acted like a company of soldiers,” said Azoun. “In pausing to repair every blighted field you happened across, you persuaded everyone you met that I am so concerned about the situation that I have begun commissioning whole companies of priests.”

“It may come to that yet, Majesty,” said Owden.

“I’m sure you hope it will,” said Dauneth, “but I won’t have you causing a panic in these lands simply to promote yourselves. The peasants are already burning each others’ fields at the first sign of a wilt, and seven men have been murdered for the crime of matching your beggar’s description.”

Owden’s face fell at the news, but he kept his gaze fixed on Azoun. “I am sorry to have caused this trouble, Majesty, but it changes nothing. We must find this blight-carrier and stop him from wandering about. Until we do that, we must keep restoring the fields he infects and prevent the disease from spreading on its own.”

“I am sure he’ll be found soon,” said Azoun. “Every company of Purple Dragons north of the High Road is watching for him. Nor do I think there is much chance of the blight spreading on its own-not with the peasants burning their fields at the first sign of a brown leaf.”

“That will help certainly, but we are much practiced in these matters,” said Owden. “You must let us continue our search-if not as Purple Dragons, then as humble clerics.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said Dauneth.

Owden finally directed his attention to the High Warden. “You’re arresting us?”

‘The Lord High Warden has no choice,” said Merula, smirking. “Impersonating a royal agent is a high crime, punishable by death.”

“By death?” This from one of Owden’s priests, a young red-haired woman no more than twenty. “We were only trying to help!”

Merula gave the woman a crocodile’s smile. “I’m sorry, but unless Princess Tanalasta commissioned you-“

“She didn’t,” said Owden. He shot the woman a warning scowl, then rose and stepped toward Dauneth. “Do with us what you must, Lord Warden, but I pray you, do not let this dark beggar wander these lands long. The blight may seem a little enough thing now, but that is only because we have contained it.”

Moving slowly so as not to alarm the guards, the harvestmaster pulled his mace from its carrying loop and presented the handle to Dauneth.

Azoun shot Merula a look that left no doubt about how the wizard’s mistrust had been received. Merula looked the other way and pretended not to notice, more secure than he should be in Vangerdahast’s ability to shield him from royal displeasure. The man’s smugness was a better argument than any Tanalasta had made for taking the war wizards down a notch.

Dauneth kept his hands on his saddle horn, making no move to accept Owden’s mace. “Actually, Merula may have overstated matters.” The High Warden cast a querying glance at Azoun, who smiled inwardly but kept a stern outer face and nodded curtly. “As I recall, those robes were issued to you on command of the royal magician for the purpose of escorting Princess Tanalasta into the Stonelands.”

“And while that may fall short of a royal commission, it does excuse you for wearing them,” said Azoun. Though he approved of Dauneth’s quick thinking, he could not let the Badgeless Maces off the hook entirely. He had worked too hard to bring the tumult of the past few days under control. “What you must answer for is disobeying my wishes and returning to chase this beggar instead of going with her into the Stonelands.”

Owden returned his mace to its carrying ring, relief flooding his face. “Of course, Majesty. That is really very easy to explain. In fact, I’ve come to think it was what Vangerdahast intended all along.”

“Truly? Now that will take some explaining.” Azoun raised his hand, commanding the harvestmaster to remain silent until he finished. “The queen will certainly wish a careful accounting of exactly what was said and done, in all the particulars-down to the minutest detail, I am sure. You and your priests are invited to return with us to Arabel, where you will be my guests until such a time as I am satisfied that you have prepared a record to the queen’s liking.”

Owden’s eyes dulled as he comprehended the king’s meaning. He bowed stiffly, then said, “As you command, Sire.”

“Good. On the journey back, perhaps you would be kind enough to tell Merula and me what you have learned about this beggar and his blight.” Azoun glanced darkly in Merula’s direction, then said, “I’m sure the war wizards can handle the matter-once they have the vaguest idea what’s going on.”

The dig seemed to delight Owden as much as it irritated Merula. “It would be a pleasure, Sire. Merula and I do enjoy talking while we travel.”

“Oh, immensely,” growled the wizard.

Azoun smiled at Merula’s glower. “Excellent,” he said, feeling that he finally had matters once again under control. “Dauneth, what say we camp tonight? It’s too late to start home, and we don’t want to put that poor free farmer out of his hut.”

“A fine idea, Sire,” said the High Warden, motioning to his lionars to set things in motion.

Azoun looked up at the darkening sky and saw the first star appear in the east. “It’s been too long since I’ve done this.” He began to finger his signet ring, then pictured Vangerdahast’s bearded face. “Too long indeed.”

Vangerdahast was standing on the grassy collar on the outlet side of Orc’s Pool, giving Cadimus and Tanalasta’s mare a few minutes grazing time when he heard Azoun’s voice.

I’ll be sleeping under the stars tonight, old friend.

Vangerdahast looked down and sighed wearily. Though the wizard’s own signet ring was in Cadimus’s saddle bags with most of his other magic, that did not prevent Azoun from contacting him. Mindful of the fact that he needed to be available to the royal family even when he had removed his ring to work in the laboratory or take a bath, the royal magician had taken the precaution of fashioning the family rings so that they could contact him whether or not he was wearing his. This wasn’t the first time he had had reason to regret his foresight-a late evening with a particularly frolicsome water nymph leaped immediately to mind-but it was the first time he had ever had reason to let it frighten him.

“And I won’t be sleeping at all, thanks to you,” Vangerdahast replied, speaking aloud. “What news?”

Matters are well in hand here. You can bring Tanalasta back any time.

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Vangerdahast began to root through Tanalasta’s saddle bags, pulling out her bracers, rings, and weathercloak. “Tanalasta won a bet. We’re at Orc’s Pool.”

A bet?

“Don’t ask,” the wizard said. “And it gets worse.”

She won’t give up on the temple?

‘Worse.”

What could be worse than that?

“A Cormaeril,” Vangerdahast explained. “A Chauntea worshiping Cormaeril ranger named Rowen. She seemed quite taken with him.”

I thought you had a plan! Azoun complained. What kind of plan is that?

“Don’t panic. Maybe he’ll turn out to have a nasty temper or hate royals or something.” Vangerdahast closed Tanalasta’s saddlebags and started around the pool toward the camp. “But we have bigger problems than that, at the moment. Ask Alaphondar to find out everything he can about a creature called a ghazneth. It’s a phantom or demon or something whose wings protect it from magic. I can’t seem to kill it.”

You what?

“It’s been harassing us-and Alusair, too.” As Vangerdahast approached the camp, he heard a soft splashing in the water. “It may have something to do with Emperel’s disappearance, but I don’t know. We haven’t been able to catch up with Alusair.”

This shouldn’t be taking so long. What’s going on up there?

“It seems the ghazneth is attracted to magic,” Vangerdahast said, “which is why Alusair took off her ring when I tried to contact her from House Marliir. I’m afraid we won’t be able to talk like this for a while, old friend.”

Wait. Azoun sounded worried. I’ll send Merula and some Purple Dragons-and Owden is here.

“That would only make it harder to talk Tanalasta out of this mess,” Vangerdahast said. “If things get dangerous again-“

Again?

“Have no fear, Sire, she handled herself quite well.” Vangerdahast stopped outside the boulders and lowered his voice. “As I was saying, I can always teleport us back to Arabel.”

Vangerdahast, I hope you know what you’re doing.

“Of course!” Vangerdahast was genuinely hurt. “We can’t give up now… unless you fancy turning your royal parade ground into a vegetable plot.”

Azoun’s only reply was a groan. The wizard smiled to himself, then stepped into the boulder circle to find Rowen sitting at water’s edge, staring out into the steam toward a shapely white blur that could only be Princess Tanalasta floating on the surface of the dark pool. Jaw set, Vangerdahast strode through camp and planted a boot square in the ranger’s back, shoving him headlong into the steaming water.

Rowen vanished under the surface for a moment, then emerged three paces to the left with a raised sword.

When he saw Vangerdahast standing in the moonlight, he lowered his weapon. “It was you?”

“It was,” Vangerdahast growled. “And you may consider yourself lucky to escape with a dunking. Spying on a royal princess’s bath could be deemed a crime against the crown.”

Rowen’s jaw fell. “I wasn’t spying!”

“No? Just peeping?”

“Vangerdahast!” Tanalasta swam over and stood, crossing her arms in front of her breasts. “You owe Rowen an apology. I asked him to keep watch while I bathed.”

“I doubt you asked him to watch you,” growled Vangerdahast, though he suspected the possibility had at least occurred to Tanalasta. The wizard glowered in Rowen’s direction. “Had you been guarding the princess instead of leering at her, you would have heard me coming.”

“I was watching the horizon,” Rowen protested. Though Tanalasta was still covering herself with her arms, he took care to avert his eyes as he spoke. “Milady, you must believe me. Why I didn’t hear him-“

“Pay him no heed, Rowen,” said Tanalasta, still covering herself with her arms. “Old Snoop is famous for skulking about the palace halls. One does not dare hold a personal conversation without first examining every garderobe and alcove within twenty paces.”

Though twenty paces was actually something of an underestimate, Vangerdahast feigned hurt. “Even were that true, Princess, I was not skulking this time.” He stepped to the edge of the water and opened Tanalasta’s weathercloak. “I was speaking with your father.”

Rowen’s face grew as pale as the moonlight, then he glanced across the circle of boulders. “The king is with you?”

“Hardly.” Vangerdahast motioned the ranger out of the water, then averted his own eyes so Tanalasta could slip into the cloak. “Will you hurry? We may not have much time.”

“Time?” Rowen climbed out of the pool, being very careful not to look back. “Why not?”

“The king is in Mabel,” Tanalasta explained, slipping into the weathercloak. “They were far-speaking.”

Rowen spun on Vangerdahast. “Magic? Alusair warned you!”

“It was the king she didn’t warn, young man,” Vangerdahast bristled. “Now, be a good lad and fetch the horses.”

“Of course.” Rowen’s expression changed from anger to chagrin. “You’re right, we don’t have much time.”

The ranger sheathed his sword, then snatched up his saddle and rushed off in the direction of the horses. Tanalasta started to follow, but Vangerdahast caught her by the arm.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Princess?” He pointed toward her neatly folded tunic and trousers. “You really shouldn’t tempt poor Rowen. It’s unfair to vaunt a prize he has no chance of winning.”

“Who says he doesn’t?” The princess snatched up her clothes and stepped behind a boulder.

Vangerdahast groaned inwardly. He pulled a gold coin from his pocket and tossed it into the air, then spoke an incantation as it started to fall. The coin stopped at about eye level.

“Vangerdahast, have you lost your mind?” Tanalasta peered out from behind her rock. “That’s what attracts it!”

“So I’ve been told.”

Vangerdahast plucked the coin out of the air and began to rub it between his palms. A faint green aura appeared around the coin, barely brighter than the moonlight illuminating it against his palm.

“Now, watch and learn, my dear, watch and learn.” Vangerdahast waited until Rowen returned with the horses, then asked, “Which way will we be traveling, young man?”

When Rowen pointed into the hills, Vangerdahast turned and flicked the coin in the opposite direction. It whistled down the gulch and sailed out over the flatlands, vanishing from sight like a shooting star.

“A false trail?” Rowen asked.

Vangerdahast nodded. “It should buy us an hour or two.”

“You may be underestimating the ghazneth’s speed.”

Rowen crouched behind a boulder, then pointed toward the mouth of the gully, where the distant silhouette of a moonlit ghazneth was wheeling out over the plain.

“How long will your coin stay in the air?” Tanalasta asked.

“About as long as it takes the ghazneth to catch it,” Vangerdahast continued to stare out over the empty plain, astonished at how quickly the dark creature had faded from sight. “How long that will be, who can say?”

“But sooner than we’d like,” concluded Tanalasta.

The princess stepped from behind her boulder, now fully clothed, both bracers clasped on one arm and the weathercloak thrown unclasped over her shoulders. The bracers would not radiate magic until she transferred one to her bare wrist, but closing the cloak’s clasp would automatically activate several magics sure to draw the ghazneth’s attention. Vangerdahast pulled his own weathercloak over his shoulders, leaving it unclasped, then they mounted and quietly left Orc’s Pool behind.