king sent us north, and it has less to do with finding Alusair than getting me out of Arabel. I doubt he would object to our taking the time to determine if these orcs are the ones spreading the blight.”
“Very well,” Vangerdahast sighed, giving up the argument far too easily, “but we won’t be going after them.”
Tanalasta studied the wizard thoughtfully. She had spent the last two days alternately trying to puzzle out his game and feeling oddly pleased with herself. She did not know whether her father had been serious about naming a new heir, but she now realized she did not care. As they had ridden out of Arabel, an unexpected sense of relief came over her, and she took the feeling to mean she had never wanted to rule Cormyr at all.
Later, as she grew accustomed to her new status, she began to experience vague sensations of loss and came to understand that what she felt was not relief, but pride. For the first time in her life, she had staked her whole future on her own conviction. The possibility that in the process she had thrown away a kingdom did not frighten her-it made her feel strong.
Once Tanalasta came to that realization, it grew easier to focus on Vangerdahast’s strange behavior. Given his attitude toward her recently, she would have expected him to endorse her replacement as heir. Yet he seemed quite disturbed by the king’s pronouncement, and since then he had been almost civil to her. She would have to be careful. Vangerdahast was definitely plotting something, and he was at his most dangerous when cordial.
After a time, Vangerdahast raised one of his bushy eyebrows and asked, “Well? Do we have a bargain, or must I slip you into a bag of holding for the rest of the trip?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Tanalasta replied. “I’m no orc-hunter. I only want to find out what they did to this grange.”
As Tanalasta and her company rounded the corner of the field, the farmer sent his family into the hut, then turned to curtly salute his visitors. Despite his tattered tunic and mane of untrimmed hair, the princess felt certain he had once been a soldier-probably an ex-Purple Dragon who had accepted a tract of frontier land in lieu of mustering out pay.
As she approached the man, Tanalasta slipped her signet ring into her pocket, then returned his salute somewhat awkwardly. As a princess, she normally ignored military protocol, but her company was traveling disguised as a Purple Dragon patrol. Like Vangerdahast and Owden, Tanalasta wore the black weathercloak of a war wizard, while the twelve priests behind her were dressed in the capes and chain mail of common dragoneers.
The farmer’s eyes seemed to absorb all this in an instant, then he returned his gaze to Tanalasta. “Hag Gordon at your service, Lady Wizard. Didn’t hear there was a new patrol assigned to Gnoll Pass.”
“There isn’t,” Tanalasta replied. She could tell by Hag’s tone that he had already deduced this was no ordinary company. “And you were with the…?”
“The Hullack Venomeers.” Hag’s eyes shifted pointedly to the badgeless capes worn by Owden’s priests, then he added, “Milady.”
Tanalasta sensed that she was missing some subtlety of military decorum, but she could hardly reveal the true nature of her company. Even had she known Hag’s loyalty to be beyond question, there was no need for him to know that the crown princess-or former crown princess-was riding about the realm protected only by a small escort of Purple Dragons. One simply did not reveal that sort of information casually.
Tanalasta gestured toward the far end of the man’s field. “We were passing by when we noticed orc tracks in the creek.”
“Orcs?” Hag’s eyes widened. “There are no orcs this side of the pass.”
“I know an orc track when I see one,” Tanalasta insisted. “Even underwater. They love to wade. It makes it harder for the hounds to stay on their trail.”
Hag raised his brow and studied her with a thoughtful air, and that was when Tanalasta realized her mistake. She turned to Owden and Vangerdahast.
“The orcs didn’t cause this,” she said, waving at the blighted field. “At least not the ones we’ve been following.”
Owden frowned, looking from the princess to the ruined field. “It must be. The coincidence is-“
“Just a coincidence-or related in some way we don’t understand,” she said. “Even in a slow current, the tracks in the stream couldn’t be more than a few hours old.”
“And my turnips started molding a tenday ago,” added Hag, clearly making the connection between Tanalasta’s inquiries and the condition of his field. “What are you looking for?”
“As a former sergeant in the Hullack Venomeers, you should know better than to ask such questions,” said Vangerdahast. While the rebuke failed to intimidate Hag, it did impress Tanalasta. It seemed impossible that even Vangerdahast could know the rank of every man who had served in the Purple Dragons. The wizard continued to glower at the man. “Had it been any of your concern, we would have explained the company’s lack of insignia.”
“And would you also have explained why your dragoneers carry maces where they should have swords? Whatever happened to my field, it’s happening to others, and old Bolt-and-Blow must be scared to death.”
Vangerdahast’s face darkened to deep burgundy. “Bolt-and-Blow, Sergeant Gordon?”
“The royal magician,” Hag explained.
Tanalasta had to bite her cheeks to keep from bursting into laughter, but Vangerdahast’s complexion only continued to darken. If the sergeant realized how perilous it was to anger this particular war wizard, he showed no sign.
“Everyone knows how old Ringfingers clutches the reins of power.” As he said this, Hag glanced at Vangerdahast’s bejeweled hands, then stepped even closer. “He’d never muster a whole company of priests if this thing didn’t scare him. If he’s scared, so am I. So what happened to my field… sir?”
Vangey turned to Tanalasta, eyes bulging like red-veined eggshells, and said nothing. He didn’t have to. One of her father’s many misgivings about establishing a royal temple had been causing a needless panic, and now she could see why.
“I wouldn’t read too much into the composition of the Badgeless Maces,” said Tanalasta. Again, a glimmer of a frown flashed across the free farmer’s face, and the princess could not help feeling that she was making some error of protocol that aroused the man’s suspicions. “But as a former dragoneer, you are obliged to serve at the crown’s recall. Must I invoke that obligation to secure your cooperation?”
Hag seemed no more intimidated by Tanalasta’s threat than he had by Vangerdahast’s blustering. “That duty is invoked by royal writ. If you can produce one, then I will gladly obey your command. Otherwise, I am entitled to as many answers as I give.”
“Royal writ!” Vangerdahast spewed, reaching into his robe. “I’ll writ you into a-!”
“The world has no need for more toads, Sir Wizard.” Tanalasta motioned for Vangerdahast to hold his attack, then turned back to the stubborn farmer. “While I’m sure we can trust a former dragoneer to hold his tongue, can the same be said for his children?”
Tanalasta glanced toward the hut, where the man’s family was peering through the cracked door. Hag’s eyes lit with sudden comprehension, and he nodded gravely-exactly as the princess had hoped he would. She had not lived nearly four decades in the Palace of the Purple Dragon without developing at least some talent for making people feel special.
Hag gestured toward the nearest corner of his field. “Come with me,” he said, “there’s something you’ll want to see.”
“Of course.” Tanalasta smiled and dismounted, thankful that at least some of her palace experience proved useful outside Suzail. She motioned to Owden and, somewhat reluctantly, Vangerdahast to follow. “Hag, since you have already deduced the true nature of our ‘Purple Dragons,’ would you care to have them do what they can to restore your field? I doubt they can save this year’s harvest, but perhaps they can keep the blight from ruining the soil.”
Hag’s dismay showed in his face, and Tanalasta could tell that it had not even occurred to him that the field might be ruined forever.
“I’d be grateful for whatever they can do,” he said. “It’ll be hard enough doing city work this year without knowing I have to clear another field before spring.”
Owden nodded to his priests. They dismounted and began to sort through the small assortment of tools piled in the farmer’s cart, having left their own shovels and hoes back in Arabel. Despite the offer of help, Hag still did not seem inclined to volunteer any information. He led Tanalasta and her two companions to the corner of his field, then
