“Owden, no!” Tanalasta grasped the harvestmaster’s shoulder and shoved him toward a guard. “This man is dismissed.”
“Not yet,” said the king. He gestured to Owden. “Is there something we should know about Tanalasta’s condition?”
“‘Condition,’ father?” Tanalasta said. “If there were something I thought you should-“
“I was talking to Owden,” said Azoun.
Tanalasta glared at the priest furiously. “You heard the king’s command.”
Owden swallowed hard, then looked back to Azoun. “Sire, I think you should know that your daughter thinks of nothing but Cormyr. In fact, when Lady Marliir’s invitation arrived at Huthduth, she told me that she would be returning to Cormyr to wed a man she did not love.”
“Then why isn’t she?” demanded Filfaeril.
“I’m afraid that is my fault.” Owden looked at his feet. “I advised her that she would be a better queen for Cormyr if she waited until she found a man she loved.”
Tanalasta had to struggle to keep her surprise hidden, for she had not realized quite how effective a liar the harvestmaster could be. The truth was that Owden had wished her well and said that by all accounts Dauneth Marliir was a fine man. Then she had sneaked out for one last hike and experienced her vision, and there had been no need for Owden Foley to convince the princess of anything.
Filfaeril narrowed her eyes at the harvestmaster’s explanation. “Under the circumstances, your advice could be considered treason.”
“Or sound advice.” Azoun cast a stern eye in the direction of both Filfaeril and Vangerdahast. “That is for Tanalasta to determine, and Tanalasta alone. What is not for her to decide is the fate of the royal temple. She will announce that Chauntea’s priests have been called back to Huthduth.”
Vangerdahast shook his head vehemently. “But Your Majesty…”
Azoun raised his hand. “And we will trust our war wizards to deal with the blight. Even if they take somewhat longer to stop it, the people of Cormyr will take comfort from their presence.”
Tanalasta’s thoughts began to spin. Filfaeril’s harsh words had left her so hurt and disoriented that she found it impossible to concentrate, and she could not help feeling she must have done something terrible to make the queen so angry with her. Nor could she take comfort from Vangerdahast’s unexpected support. She had seen his cobra’s smile charm too many foes to fall prey to its poison herself.
Azoun nodded to Owden. “We thank you for coming all this way, Harvestmaster, but you may take your priests and return to Huthduth. Tanalasta will see to an explanation.”
Owden’s face showed his disappointment, but he bowed deeply to show his obedience, then turned and grasped Tanalasta’s hands in farewell. As the harvestmaster said his good-byes, his words barely registered, for she suddenly felt her mother’s gaze and looked over to see Filfaeril’s pale eyes glaring at her. The ice in the queen’s expression caused her to recoil involuntarily, and Tanalasta’s earlier fury returned tenfold. No matter what her mother believed, the princess was doing the best thing for Cormyr, and allowing anyone to tell her otherwise would bring disaster down on the kingdom.
When Owden started toward the stable, Tanalasta caught him by the arms. “Harvestmaster Foley, the king is wrong. I am not going to explain your departure.”
Azoun’s face grew instantly stormy. “You are defying me?”
Tanalasta glanced toward her mother and noticed the queen’s lower lip beginning to quiver, then nodded. “I must follow my convictions, Sire.”
Owden’s face grew as pale as the king’s was red. “Princess Tanalasta, there is no need to argue-“
“But there is, Harvestmaster,” said Tanalasta. “Cormyr has need of you and your priests-now, and in the future.”
“I am king,” Azoun said in that even voice he used when he was angered almost beyond control. “My convictions determine what Cormyr needs.”
“And what happens when you are gone, father? Am I to have Vangerdahast rouse you from your rest to see what is best for the realm?” Tanalasta shook her head. “I must do what I believe to be right-now, because I am certain of it, and in the future, because I will have no other choice.”
Vangerdahast sighed heavily and muttered something indiscernible, and Filfaeril’s hand rose to her mouth. The anger vanished from her eyes, only to return a moment later when she looked in Vangerdahast’s direction. Azoun merely stared at Tanalasta, his eyes growing steadily darker as he tried to bring his temper under control.
Finally, he said, “Perhaps I can spare you that burden, Princess. I have two daughters.”
Tanalasta struggled to keep from staggering back. “I know that.”
“Good,” said the king. “Vangerdahast has been unable to contact Alusair. You will take your priests and ride into the Stonelands to find her. You will tell her that I have something important to say to her. She is to return to Arabel in all possible haste, and she is to guard her life as carefully as that of any crown heir.”
With that, Azoun spun on his heel and marched back toward the manor house, leaving Vangerdahast and Filfaeril standing gape-mouthed behind him. Tears began to trickle down the queen’s face. She started to reach out for Tanalasta, then suddenly pulled her arms back and whirled on the royal magician.
“Damn you.” Her voice was calm and even and all the more frightening. “Damn you for a lying child of Cyric!”
Vangerdahast’s shoulders slumped, and he suddenly seemed as old as Cormyr itself. “I told you it was too late,” he whispered. The rims of his baggy eyes grew red and wet, and he looked at his wrinkled old arms as though it took a conscious act of will not to grasp the queen’s hands. “I’ll go with her. I’ll be there every step of the way.”
“Should that comfort me?” The queen glanced again at Tanalasta, then turned and scurried after Azoun.
Tanalasta stood where she was, trying to puzzle out what had just happened, and felt Owden grasp her arm. She quickly shook him off. To her astonishment, she did not need his support.
She felt stronger than at any other time in her life.
4
There would be no turnips for LastRest this year.
A mat of ash-colored mold covered the field, filling the air with a smell of must and rot so foul that Tanalasta had to cover her mouth to keep from retching. Little mounds of gray marked where the stalks had pushed up through the earth, but nothing could be seen of the plants themselves. At the far edge of the field, a free farmer and his family were busy loading the contents of their hut into an ox-drawn cart.
“By the Sacred Harrow!” cursed Owden. “What an abomination!”
“It is a sad sight,” agreed Tanalasta. She motioned the commander of her Purple Dragon escort to set a perimeter around the area, then urged her horse forward. “Strange we have seen no other sign of blight in the area.”
“Strange indeed,” said Owden, following her along the edge of the field. “Why would the orcs raid this grange, when it is so much closer to town than others we have passed?”
“Perhaps they had a taste for turnips,” Vangerdahast said, riding up beside Tanalasta. “I doubt even orcs know why they raid one farm instead of another.”
“I am not as interested in why as whether,” said Tanalasta. She had noticed the orc track a mile earlier, in the bed of a rocky creek they had been crossing. Over Vangerdahast’s rather feeble objections, the princess had led the company upstream, following a patchy trail of overturned stones and sandy hoof prints to within a few paces of the blighted field. Now that she saw the farmer’s undamaged hut, however, she wondered if the place had been raided at all. She pointed at the little house. “It’s not like orcs to spare such a defenseless target.”
“Now you are troubled that they didn’t raze some shack?” Vangerdahast looked to the heavens for patience. “Aren’t you wasting enough of our time without fretting over such things? The king sent us north to find Alusair-“
“And you are certain these farmers can’t help us?” Tanalasta stared at the old wizard evenly “I know why the
