“Not unless you count Aunadar Bleth.” Tanalasta chuckled at the lionar’s uncomfortable expression, then said, “Perhaps you care to offer a few suggestions.”
“That would be a waste of time,” growled Vangerdahast. He guided his horse around so that he was facing Tanalasta, then plucked the sword from her hand and returned it to Ryban. “She won’t be needing this.”
Tanalasta fixed him with her most commanding glare. “Then the king has changed his mind about the royal temple?”
“I doubt that very much, but if you insist on doing this, I won’t have you risking the lives of good men with this nonsense about swinging a sword yourself.” The wizard angled a gnarled finger down across the hillside, to where a high outcropping of granite overlooked the west side of the battlefield, and said, “You will wait down there with five of Ryban’s best men. if an orc comes within a hundred paces of you, the dragoneers will take you-by force, if necessary-and flee westward at a full gallop. Do you understand?”
Tanalasta bristled at Vangerdahast’s tone, but one glimpse of the relief in Ryban’s eyes confirmed that the lionar shared the wizard’s concerns. Silently, she thanked the goddess for sparing her what she felt certain would have been more adventure than she really wanted. Though Tanalasta was determined to play the reckless princess and force Vangerdahast’s hand, she was also smart enough to realize that ten-to-one odds might be a bit ambitious for her first battle-even with the royal magician along to even things out.
Putting on a defiant air, Tanalasta turned to the lionar. “Is that your recommendation as well, Lionar?”
“It is,” he said. “No offense to your fencing skill, Princess, but swiners don’t play by the rules. Your presence would be a burden on us all.”
Tanalasta let her shoulders slump. “Very well.” Her disappointment was not entirely feigned, for she had often envied the marvelous combat tales her younger sister brought home from each journey into the Stonelands. “You may send two men to accompany me. If I am not to take part in the fighting, you will have greater need of the extra swords than I.”
Vangerdahast scowled at this reduction of guards, but reluctantly held his tongue and nodded toward her saddlebags. “You have the rod and bracers I gave you?” he asked. “And the rings as well?”
Tanalasta put her hand into her cloak pocket and found the rings in their special pouches, then slipped them on.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take every precaution.” She waved her fingers to display the rings. “I wouldn’t want anyone to trouble themselves about me. In fact, I can even recall that spell you taught me to keep bears at bay.”
Vangerdahast looked surprised. “And it is prepared to use?”
“If I must.” Tanalasta ran her hands through the necessary gestures. “You see? Our time together wasn’t altogether wasted.”
“Life never ceases to be a wonder-even at my age.” Vangerdahast shook his head in amazement. “Perhaps we’ll make a war wizard of you yet, if you remain determined not to be queen.”
With that, the royal magician turned his horse away and galloped off to circle around behind the battle. Ryban quickly sent three Purple Dragons along to offer hand-to-hand support, then assigned a pair of riders to escort Tanalasta.
Tanalasta and her companions dismounted and led their horses across the slope on foot. The foothills were as barren as the sandlands below, save that the ground here was as jagged and rocky as the heart of the Stonelands, and any orc who happened to glance up at a clear moment would see a trio of riders crossing the hillside. Proceeding on foot hardly guaranteed that this would not happen, but at least they would be harder to notice with a lower profile. The princess did not worry at all about the clatter their horses made on the rocky ground. Even she could barely hear it above all the clanging and shouting below.
As Tanalasta approached her assigned station, the stonemurk grew steadily thinner, and she realized Vangerdahast had not chosen her post solely to keep her out of harm’s way. While the outcropping dropped away in a sheer cliff on its three downhill sides, it was also close enough to the fighting to offer a good view of the battle. She guessed there were close to two hundred and fifty stoop-backed figures trying to clamber over an irregular oval of toppled and burning wagons. Inside this defensive barrier stood no more than fifty caravan guards, hacking at their attackers with swords, axes, and the occasional lightning bolt or flame tongue, struggling to defend a small knot of women, children, and cursing merchants huddled together in the center of the circle.
Several women and most of the merchants were clutching wooden spears, ready to charge any swiners that broke through the guards’ perimeter. Judging by the number of bodies both human and orc that lay scattered across the tiny circle, they had been called upon several times already. The princess saw no signs of dray beasts. The creatures had either been cut free or dragged away by the orcs.
The trio tethered their horses out of sight behind the rim of the cliff. Tanalasta opened her saddlebags, slipped her bracers onto her wrists, and grabbed her little black baton, then led the way forward on hands and knees. Though she had never had occasion to use either the bracers or the baton before, she had practiced with them a few times and knew how to use their magic. She considered it a testament to the danger of the Stonelands that before leaving Arabel, Vangerdahast had made a point of requisitioning so much magic for her from the armory of the Purple Dragons. When he had dropped her off in Huthduth, he had given her nothing more than a magic dagger-no doubt because he had expected her to contact him within a tenday and demand to be instantly teleported home. Only the determination to prove him wrong had given her the strength to abide that first month of boredom, before she had discovered the joy of hard, honest work.
The princess reached the rim of the cliff to find a stream of orcs pouring between two toppled wagons, stampeding over the fallen bodies of four burly caravan guards. A quavering battle yell rose from the women and merchants huddled together in the center of the circle, and they edged forward to meet their foes.
Tanalasta fingered her signet ring, then pictured the royal magician’s face inside her mind. “Vangerdahast?”
He came into view, a faint gray silhouette two hundred paces beyond the caravan, rising from behind a sandy ridge, swinging a wooden staff over his head and flinging a ball of fire into the air. The sphere arced over the wagons and crashed down in the heart of the orcs’ charge, licking out around their crooked legs and curling skyward in a flash of scarlet. The swiners disintegrated into columns of sooty black smoke and writhing heaps of ash, and on the wind came the anguished squeals of the dying.
A trio of blackened swiners stumbled from the conflagration haloed in fumes and flame. A swarm of women and merchants were on them instantly, thrusting and jabbing with their spears until the orcs collapsed in burning heaps.
Yes? Vangerdahast’s voice came to Tanalasta inside her head. I’m rather busy now, if it isn’t important.
The wizard leveled his staff, and half a dozen forks of lightning struck down a mob of orcs trying to overturn a heavy wagon. On the opposite side of the circle, Tanalasta noticed another throng about to overpower a trio of weary caravan guards.
Trouble on the righter, your left. Tanalasta spoke the words within her head. About half way down. I can see everything from up here.
Of course. Did you think I only meant to rob you of the fun?
Vangerdahast thrust his staff into its saddle holster, then pulled something from the sleeve pocket of his robe and flicked his fingers in the indicated direction. A yellowish mist appeared over the orc throng and settled groundward. Any warrior touched by the haze let the weapon slip from his grasp and collapsed in an unmoving heap. For the sake of the caravan guards, Tanalasta hoped the cloud had been sleep magic and not a death spell.
The support riders finally appeared behind Vangerdahast, their bodies pressed tight to the necks of their galloping mounts as the beasts struggled in vain to keep pace with the royal magician’s peerless stallion. The men carried swords in their hands and wore bucklers fastened to their arms, but it seemed to Tanalasta that by the time they caught the wizard, their poor horses would be too exhausted to carry the fight.
As Vangerdahast closed to within a hundred paces of the battle, he drew his staff from its holster again. He tucked the back end under his arm and began to swing the tip back and forth, casting crackling bolts of lightning down one side of the wagon circle and sizzling meteors along the other. Orcs dropped by the dozens, and soon the ones at his end of the circle began to fall back in confusion. The weary caravan guards paused long enough to glance in his direction and raise their swords in thanks, then rushed to help their hard-pressed companions closer to Tanalasta’s end of the fight.
It did not take the angry orcs long to determine the source of their trouble. As Vangerdahast closed to within
