mother confirmed her in full authority to do so, almost once or twice a tenday, very firmly and enthusiastically. Alusair wanted to tell the old watch-hound-watch- bitch, yes? — to run and plunge face-first into the mud of a castle moat, preferably a castle somewhere north of shining Silverymoon, half Faerun away, and never stop eating that mud, but…
Bony hands were plucking the book from her hands, wrinkled lips were clucking as if she were some sort of disobedient barnfowl, and Alusair sighed, folded her hands together (the one without the ring over the one now wearing it), and announced, “I found some old books, and wanted to look at them. The only ones I looked at were very boring, but this one was so heavy I almost dropped it, and one”-she dropped her voice into viciously accurate mimicry of Alsarra’s own tones-“should never damage a book, so I-”
“Sat down to try to forestall the fall? Quite so, child, quite so-and may I say an admirable sentiment and deed for a younger princess, whose deportment and manner will be such an asset to House Obarskyr in time soon to come!”
So I can be married off like a prize cow, Alusair thought sourly.
“I say again, as I’ve said so oft before, that you should watch your sister Princess Tanalasta, and strive to act as she does!”
Alusair nodded out of unthinking habit, and Alsarra smiled and went gushing on, words flowing in a sharp and exclamatory flood. She restored the book to its place and hauled the wayward princess to her feet so the mirror could be closed, Alusair’s dust-soiled breeches could be exclaimed over, and Alusair could be chided once more for refusing to wear a gown that any fair woman-to-be would find fitting and suitable, to say nothing of a royal princess of Cormyr. Alusair nodded absently and heard not a word of it all.
Instead, she raced excitedly back and forth through the new thoughts and images in her head that the ring had put there, telling her that it was old and mighty, and had three powers: teleportation, to four set places that were unknown to her; something called a “non-detection shield,” that would make her, whenever she willed, invisible to all magics that sought to detect or locate her, or read or influence her mind… and something else, too, that she didn’t understand. Warm delight grew in her like a comforting fireside flame. With this, she had the chance to slip away from her everpresent war wizard and Purple Dragon watchers. She was free.
“Alsarra,” she said firmly, “I must find a garderobe. My near-fall, you understand…”
“Oh, but of course! Are you sure an examination would not come amiss? We really should-”
“If there’s blood, I’ll hasten to let you know, Alsarra,” the princess said very firmly. “Now, stand out of the way, or this royal bladder will-”
“Of course! Of course! Oh, gods and guardian spirits forfend! Here I am, a foolish old woman, a-twittering while-”
Well, at least you know what you are, Alusair thought sourly, slipping past her watcher. Wouldn’t you just be delighted if there were blood? Then I’d be fertile, and you could lock me up straight and proper, never again to set foot out of my bedchambers except to appear at feasts and be put on display for suitors-until one of them bit, and my life of true slavery could begin.
She sped down a narrow passage to the filigreed gates of the nearest ladies’ garderobe, and instead of turning left into its comforts, turned right, ducking through the hanging to the unlit, steeply descending servants’ stair. Standing in the darkness at the head of its steps, she told the ring: hide me.
And the adventure began.
First, to find herself a sword, a dagger, and some proper traveling boots! Then a little food, a belt flask of something to drink, and Alusair faltered, halfway down the stair, as she discovered she could feel the alarm of the war wizards who’d been their usual bored selves, magically spying on her. Their minds rushed past her like frantic wraiths who couldn’t see her. They were far from bored now. Her knife-abrupt disappearance from their scrying spells had them shouting at each other and ringing gongs!
She snickered-and then spat out a curse. Those ringing gongs were even now summoning thunder-booted Purple Dragons and irritated senior war wizards to start a search for her.
“Ilmater’s pain, but I hate this place,” she murmured, as lamplight spilled out into the hallway at the bottom of the stair. She hurled herself down the last few steps, her heavy pendant smacking her across the face, and just had time enough to duck around a corner, thankful for her soft slippers, before servants rushed out into the hall and up the stair she’d just left.
“Has anyone seen the Princess Alusair?” a maid asked sharply, in the room where the lamp was. “We’re to find her and bring her to the nearest war wizard. Drop all and get up into the staterooms, all of you!”
“Drag Little Lady Pouting-Trouble half the length of the Palace to find a spellhurler? And get beheaded for our troubles? After she kicks all our organs clear up and out of our bodies and pulls every last hair out of our heads?”
“Well, she won’t have much hair to pull on your shining pate, Jorlguld!”
“I’ve got nose-hairs, ye know,” Jorlguld said darkly.
“Well, there won’t be all that much dragging; every chamber of the Palace is filling up with war wizards, just as fast as they can-”
Alusair whispered something very rude, and went in search of a sword and dagger. Her purse would have to buy her the rest, once she was out of here.
This passage ran along to an end stair with a Purple Dragon ready-room. Normally it was a place she’d want to stay well away from, if she was trying to hide, but with the alarm raised, surely they’d all have rushed upstairs to poke and pry and waste much time before they got around to thinking a high-and-mighty princess might go below, down into the dark, dank servants’ halls. And not only did Purple Dragons never close doors unless someone ordered them to, they always had extra weapons in their armories. Lots of extra weapons.
Yes! The ready-room stood empty of men, the wooden racks on its walls a-gleam with swords and daggers in plenty.
But nary a scabbard for any of them, or even a cloak. Alusair peered around in dismay, and then shrugged, took down a sword she liked the look of, and then a dagger, likewise, and “I saw someone along here, I tell thee, and it could have been a lass!” The man’s voice echoed, still far down the passage.
Alusair spun around to face the door, hefted her sword and dagger-the sword was a trifle too heavy for comfort, but it would have to do-and thought about the ring. Hard.
And being elsewhere, to that first destination. Wherever it was.
Obligingly, the Palace whirled away, and she was suddenly falling, falling endlessly through chill blue mists…
Chapter 3
My life has been full of leavings-some tearful, some contented, and many of the sort that kings tend to term “not a moment too soon.”
'The Royal Magician-?”
“Has other pressing matters to attend to,” Laspeera said. “However, I trust myself and you five to translocate six sleeping Knights from here to Arabel. Now. ”
It was rare for the warm, kindly manner of the woman most Wizards of War fondly called “Mother” to slip, even for a moment, and the mages around her blinked, carefully made not the slightest reply, and devoted themselves to swift, accurate spellcasting.
Wizards, chairs, and the sleepers slumped in them were suddenly no longer in an inner chamber of the
