During the battle, he had recognized the man as Gaspar Cormaeril, one of Aunadar Bleth’s collaborators who died during the Abraxus Affair, somehow returned to life. There was a note in the margin noting that later, after making a few inquiries when he returned to Halfhap for a new horse, he had decided the fellow was most likely Gaspar’s look-alike cousin, Xanthon.
Tanalasta stopped reading for a moment. Xanthon was familiar to her as one of Rowen’s more “adventurous” cousins, who-along with Thaerilon, Boront, Cheidrin, Flaram, and Horontar-journeyed the Heartlands in search of wealth and excitement. From what she recalled, they were generally less successful in their pursuit of the former than the latter, often finding it necessary to ask King Azoun to convince some foreign mayor or monarch that executing them was not worth the trouble it might cause between the two countries. Azoun had always been happy to oblige, at least until Gaspar had taken part in the Abraxus Affair, since the Cormaerils never failed to repay the crown’s expenses in quadruple. Now that the family was no longer in the royal graces, Tanalasta had heard that Boront and Cheldrin had met unhappy fates, while Horontar made his livelihood cleaning the cesspits of Darkhold.
She returned to the journal. To Emperel’s dismay, capturing his quarry had proven more difficult than expected. Xanthon had proven unbelievably quick and strong, and he seemed to drain the magic from any enchanted weapon that was used against him. By the time the battle ended, Emperel had lost most of his magic items, including his dagger, weathercloak, and the signet ring he used to contact Vangerdahast-Tanalasta could not help wondering how many others secretly carried the wizard’s special rings.
In the end, Emperel had wounded his quarry severely enough that Xanthon killed his pursuer’s horse and fled. Emperel returned to Halfhap for a new horse and a bolt of silk, then returned to take a rubbing from the fir tree and resume his hunt. Tanalasta examined the silk rolls again, ascertaining from the bark pattern that the fir had been Suzara’s tree.
It had taken Emperel a few days to find Xanthon’s trail again, but eventually he had crossed paths with an orc tribe that had seen a shadowy figure racing toward a “devil tree” near the Battle of Broken Bones. Emperel had quickly found the place and discovered a gnarled elm with the same glyphs as the giant fir.
Tanalasta studied the rubbings and quickly determined that this had been Lady Merendil’s tomb. She skimmed the rest of the entries and quickly connected Emperel’s next stops to the two tombs she had visited, Boldovar’s sycamore tree in the moorlands and Melineth’s buckeye in the goblin keep.
The journal’s last entry was a cryptic, almost illegible reference to finally capturing Xanthon, followed by the inexplicable exclamation: Helm save us! Their pride is our doom!
When the princess closed the book, she discovered that her concentration had given her a pounding headache. Her hands were trembling, and she could feel trails of sweat running down her body. She returned the journal to Emperel’s satchel and began to reroll the rubbings. It did not occur to her to wonder how long she had been sitting in the tomb until Alusair’s voice sounded from the entrance passage.
“Shave my bones!” It was a favourite curse among knucklebone gamblers whose luck had run out. “What are you doing? I thought the fever had taken you!”
“I feel fine.” Tanalasta looked up and noticed, for the first time, the guttering flame atop her torch. It did not occur to her that her aching and nausea were due to anything but the strain of reading by such dim light, or the awful stench of the place. “I’ve been reading Emperel’s account of his death.”
“He recorded it for posterity?” Alusair dropped unsteadily into the tomb, looking little better than Tanalasta felt. “That doesn’t sound like Emperel.”
“I never met the man, so I wouldn’t know.” Tanalasta motioned at Emperel’s message pouch, then said, “But I assure you, he was very thorough. This account will save us a tenday’s of investigation.”
“Investigation?” Alusair scoffed. “There isn’t going to be an investigation. With all these ghazneths flying around, I’m not taking any chances with your life. We’re going home.”
Tanalasta shoved a silk roll into the pouch. “It’s not me we should be concerned with.”
“Not on your life!” Alusair shook her head vehemently. Tanalasta had already given her sister their father’s message, only to be laughed at and roundly rebuked. “I told you not to drag me into this. It’s between you and the king.”
“It is between the king and whoever he says it is.”
“What’s he going to do? Order me to be queen?” Alusair staggered over and kneeled down beside Tanalasta. “The next thing you know, he’ll be telling me to marry some buffoon with a long title and a short… sword.”
The long crawl through the entrance passage had left Alusair coated with mold and slime from Emperel’s body, but she did not seem to notice. She grabbed the torch and looked into her sister’s eyes, then placed a palm to Tanalasta’s brow.
“You’re on fire!” She grabbed Tanalasta and pulled her roughly to her feet, leaving more than a dozen silks unfurled on the floor. “I should never have let you come in here.”
“Someone had to do it, Princess.” Rowen slid out of the entrance, crowding the little tomb to the point of bursting, “Tanalasta is the most knowledgeable about what all is means.”
“She is also the crown princess.” Alusair pushed Tanalasta past Rowen toward the exit. “Help me get out of here so Gaborl can see to her.”
“Wait!” Tanalasta stretched her hand toward the silks. “We need those rubbings.”
“Not as much as we need to get out of here. Come along.”
Alusair pushed her sister’s head down and tried to shove her into the exit, but Tanalasta countered by grabbing hold of the sides of the wall. “You don’t understand. They are our ancestors.”
“She must be delirious,” Rowen said. He picked up one the blank silks and inspected it. “There’s nothing on him.”
Tanalasta still refused to enter the passage. “I’m not delirious. Some of the silks have rubbings of the tree glyphs, they name the ghazneths-Suzara Obarskyr, King Boldovar, Mirabelle Merendil, Melineth Turcasson.”
“Mirabelle Merendil is no ancestor of ours.” Alusair tabbed Tanalasta’s arm and wrenched it around behind her back. “I don’t have time for this. The ghazneths will be back soon.”
She pulled the other arm free, then shoved Tanalasta headlong into the passage.
Tanalasta craned her neck around and shouted, “And Xanthon Cormaeril is the one setting them free!”
“We don’t have time for this.” Alusair stopped nonetheless, then pulled Tanalasta out of the hole and eyed her warily. “You’re sure?”
Tanalasta nodded, then dropped to her knees and rifled through the silks until she found one with a rubbing. She showed it Rowen. “You recognize the glyphs?”
He nodded. “But what does Xanthon have to do with them?”
“Unless I miss my guess, he is the one digging the ghazneths out of their tombs,” Tanalasta explained.
She went on to recount the story of Xanthon’s appearance in Halfhap and Emperel’s subsequent efforts to track him down, then completed the story by reading the journal’s final cryptic entry.
“Their pride is our doom?” Alusair repeated. “What’s that mean?”
“And who etched the glyphs in the first place?” Rowen added. “Certainly not Xanthon.”
Tanalasta could only shake her head. “We won’t know that until we catch Xanthon-or find the rest of the trees.”
“Or until we let Vangerdahast sort it out,” Alusair said. “Which is exactly what we’ll do. We’ll head over Marshview Pass to Goblin Mountain Outpost. Then, the instant we have a few dragoneers to hold off the ghazneths, well do a sending and tell him to come get us.”
Tanalasta and Rowen glanced at each other nervously-a gesture that was not lost on Alusair.
“What?”
It was Rowen who answered. “During your uh, discussion about who’s really the crown princess, there was one thing we had no chance to mention.”
Alusair frowned. “Are you going to tell me now?”
“We probably shouldn’t count on Vangerdahast,” said Tanalasta. “It might not be safe to contact him.”
Alusair narrowed her eyes. “You said he had returned to Arabel.”
“He did.” Tanalasta summoned enough of her fading energies to raise her chin. “But we didn’t want to go with him.”
“And we pulled away at the last second,” said Rowen. “It was more by accident than-“
“You what?” Alusair whirled on Rowen like a lionar on an insolent underling. “You took it upon yourself to
