Vangerdahast almost sighed in relief, then realized it would be impossible to scatter the orcs without using magic and alerting the ghazneth to their location. He scanned the gully slopes, already plotting a devastating sequence of fire spells. If Tanalasta could see the swiners, then the swiners could see her. Orc eyes were so sensitive they could see a creature’s body heat in the dark.
When Vangerdahast detected no sign of the creatures, he asked, “Where?”
“I don’t know,” Tanalasta replied. “I smell them.”
“Smell them?” Vangerdahast hissed. “If they were close enough to smell, we’d be dead by now.”
“If we were relying on your nose, yes,” whispered Rowen, “but Tanalasta has taken a bath. She can smell something other than herself.”
The ranger dismounted and scraped a fistful of dirt from the gully floor, letting it pour from his hand. Once he had determined that the breeze was blowing across the gully, he led Vangerdahast and Tanalasta over to the windward side of the ravine and motioned for them to dismount. The trio spent the next half hour stumbling along in the shadows without seeing any sign of the orcs. Vangerdahast was about to insist that they mount again when a distant clatter began to echo up the gulch behind them. They paused to listen until the orcs had passed, then returned to their saddles and continued up the gully.
The companions remained silent for another half hour, until they reached the head of the gulch and ascended onto the moonlit expanse of the Gnoll Flats. Despite Rowen’s earlier warning, the stonemurk was not bad-at least not compared to the plains closer to the Stonebolt Trail-and Vangerdahast could barely see the dark wall of the Storm Horns in the far distance. Try as he might, he could find no peaks that reminded him of mule ears.
They stayed close to the edge of the flats, ready to duck down the nearest ravine at the first sign of orcs or the ghazneth. After the sheltering confines of the gully, the empty expanses made Vangerdahast feel exposed and cranky, and only the thought of crossing the barrens in full daylight prevented him from suggesting they make camp in the shelter of one of the many ravines they were passing.
If the lack of cover made Tanalasta or Rowen nervous, they did not show it. The pair rode side-by-side for the rest of the night, their legs almost touching. Despite his weariness and petulant mood, Vangerdahast found he did not have the heart to intrude on the moment-not even for the good of the realm. Clearly, the ranger respected the princess for her knowledge and talent, and she seemed to return that respect with genuine fondness. Outside of Alaphondar and her own family, Tanalasta had experienced little enough of either in the palace. If she had found it in the Stonelands with Rowen Cormaeril, then the royal magician could put Cormyr’s interests aside for a few hours. Despite the trouble she was causing him, Vangerdahast loved the princess like a daughter, and he wanted to see her as happy as it was possible for a queen to be.
Vangerdahast could never let them marry, of course. Allowing the child of a Cormaeril to ascend to the throne would insult the families who had stayed loyal during the Abraxus Affair, and invite mischief from those who had wavered, but marriage was not the only trail to carnal happiness. If their fondness continued to grow, perhaps he could talk to Tanalasta about working out a discreet arrangement. He had certainly done the same thing often enough for Azoun, and it might provide just the leverage he needed to disabuse her of this royal temple nonsense.
The eastern horizon was beginning to brighten with predawn light when Vangerdahast heard the pair murmuring quietly. He slumped forward and allowed his chin to drop onto his chest, then urged his horse slowly forward until he was close enough to hear their conversation. His eavesdropping spells were far more effective and convenient, but with the ghazneth flying about, he had no choice except to resort to conventional methods.
“…led you to worship the Mother?” Tanalasta was asking. “Chauntea is hardly a popular goddess among the nobility.”
“Until Gaspar dishonored us, we Cormaerils were less a family of polities than of land,” Rowen explained. “Chauntea saw fit to bless our farms with her bounty, and we venerated her in return.”
“I see,” said Tanalasta. “You still worship her, though you have lost your lands?”
“I do.” Rowen looked away, then added, “After I have redeemed my name in Princess Alusair’s service, it is my hope that the king will someday grant me a small holding.”
Tanalasta reached across to grasp the ranger’s hand. “Have faith, Rowen. Chauntea rewards those who serve her.”
“Aye, those who serve the Mother flourish in her bounty.” The exchange sent a shudder down Vangerdahast’s spine. He urged his horse forward between theirs, forcing the princess to withdraw her hand.
“What is it?” the wizard asked, feigning a yawn. He saw now that Rowen would be more dangerous as a lover than as a husband. “Is something wrong?”
Tanalasta scowled. “Nothing a little consideration couldn’t cure.”
Vangerdahast blinked groggily. “Am I interrupting something?” There was just enough of an edge in his voice to hint that it had better not be so, and he looked from the princess to Rowen. “Have you been sizing up the crown jewels again?”
“Vangerdahast!” Tanalasta raised her hand as though she might slap the wizard, then shook her head in frustration. “You are the only one here who has been behaving poorly-and I’m quite sure you know it!”
Vangerdahast continued to glare at Rowen. “Well?”
The ranger’s face darkened. “It would be a crime for me to respond as you deserve, Lord Magician, but you must know you are assailing my honor. I have only pure thoughts for the princess.”
“Good.” Vangerdahast glanced at Tanalasta just long enough to wince at the fury in her eyes, then looked back to Rowen. “Because you know how unfortunate it would be if she were to become, ah, attached to you.”
Rowen looked confused. “Attached? To me?”
“Pay him no mind,” said Tanalasta. “Vangerdahast has a notoriously tawdry mind.”
Rowen’s posture grew tense. “I see. Well, there is no danger of that. Roosters do not pursue swans.”
“No, they don’t,” agreed Vangerdahast. “They keep their distance, lest people start mistaking the swan for a hen.”
“I am not a poultry bird.” Tanalasta raised her chin and slapped the reins against her weary horse’s neck, goading it into a trot. “I will thank you both to-“
Her sentence was cut short by the pained shriek of a horse.
Fearing Tanalasta’s mount had broken a leg, Vangerdahast sank his heels into Cadimus’s flanks and shot after the princess. As he approached, she wheeled around and sprang past in the opposite direction, leaning out of her saddle to grab for something on the ground. A cacophony of snarling and snorting arose from the rim of the plain, and it finally dawned on the wizard that the horse’s cry had been caused by something more serious than a broken leg.
Vangerdahast spun Cadimus toward the sound and saw a wall of orc silhouettes clambering over the rim of the plain. The swiners were no more than a hundred paces distant, with thick snouts and pointy ears outlined in black against the purple horizon. Closer by, a dozen hunch-shouldered shapes were rising from a line of shallow camouflage pits not far behind Rowen, who lay struggling to drag himself free of his thrashing horse. The poor beast had four crooked spears lodged in its rib cage, and every time it tried to roll to its knees, its breath would wheeze out around the shafts.
Tanalasta brought her mount to a stop beside the fallen horse and stretched down toward Rowen. He reached up to grasp her hand, then his horse screeched again as its abdomen was pierced by a rough-hewn spear. Another shaft hissed through the air above the princess’s back, and two more clattered into the stones around the hooves of her horse. The ranger looked back toward the camouflage pits, then quickly pulled his arm away-the first twelve orcs were only ten paces away.
“There’s no time, Princess. Go!”
“And leave you here? What kind of lady would that make me?” Tanalasta swung out of the saddle and glanced back at Vangerdahast. “Do something!”
The command was hardly necessary. Vangerdahast was already holding one of his favorite wands. As soon as Tanalasta stooped down to shove Rowen’s fallen horse off him, he shouted his command word and whipped the tip at the closest orc. The brute cried out in shock and went tumbling across the ground backward, limbs flailing and head cracking against the rocky ground. The wizard repeated the gesture three more times before the princess rocked the horse high enough for Rowen to pull out of his stirrup. The ranger dragged himself free and stood, blocking Vangerdahast’s angle to the remaining orcs.
“By the Purple Dragon!” Vangerdahast moved forward to get a better angle, then sent another ore flying. The
