by the promise of cold water to quench their fevers, the entire company lurched through the willows at a near run and dropped to their bellies on the stream bank and began to palm cool clear water into their throats.
Tanalasta was swallowing her third mouthful when she caught a faint whiff of the familiar, too-sweet odor of horse manure. She took one more drink, then rose and forded the creek across a series of stepping stones. Pushing through the willows on the other side, she found herself looking at the same swath of churned ground she had glimpsed earlier.
The trail was close to ten feet wide, with a generous coating of dried manure and a distinct trio of paths worn shoes, and a single set of smooth-soled boot prints lay superimposed over the center line of horseshoe tracks.
Rowen.
Tanalasta turned to call the others and found her sister already stepping out of the willows. Alusair dropped to her haunches and crumbled some of the horse manure between her fingers.
“It’s been a while,” she said. “Maybe a tenday.”
“But it was Vangerdahast.” Tanalasta pointed to the three trails. “According to the Steel -Princess’s Field Guide to Tactics of the Purple Dragon, that’s the standard riding formation for a company with a heavy complement of war wizards. Warriors shielding sorcerers.”
“You read that?” Alusair replied, lifting a brow. “I doubt half the lionars in the army have cracked the cover.”
“Perhaps because your style was stiff,” said Tanalasta.
“I’ll be happy to help you liven it up in a revision.”
Alusair’s tone grew as terse as her syntax. “There isn’t going to be a revision-there’s going to be an order.” She pointed at the boot print. “I suppose you’ve read my little book on tracking as well?”
“Of course, though it was clear that you hadn’t read Lanathar Manyon’s.” Ignoring the curl that came to her sister’s lip, Tanalasta squatted beside the print. “I think it’s safe to assume this track is Rowen’s. Because it’s on top of the horses, we know he was following them. He seemed to be in good health.”
Tanalasta pointed to the broadest part of the boot print, where a slight depression implied a swift, powerful stride.
Alusair inclined her head. “Very good. That should make you happy.”
“I’ll be happy when I see him again.” Tanalasta stood and looked up the dark strip of churned ground. She couldn’t see Rowen, of course, but it comforted her to know she stood on the same ground he had. “In his book, Lanathar claimed a careful observer could tell the age of a track by nothing more than its deterioration.”
“Roughly,” growled Alusair. “And if he claimed more, he was a damned liar.”
Tanalasta remained silent and allowed her sister to study the tracks. As she waited, the rest of the company forded the creek and came to stand with them. Two of the men wandered down the trail to make an evaluation of their own, but they were still crumbling manure when Alusair stood.
“I’d say the company came through eight to fifteen days ago. Rowen’s tracks are harder to place, but I’d guess about eight days.”
“Then it’s possible he has caught them by now,” surmised Tanalasta.
Alusair studied her a moment, then scowled and shook her head resolutely. “Don’t even think it! We’re going to Goblin Mountain, and that’s final.” She turned to her men. “Drink up and fill your waterskins. We’ve got a hill to climb before dark.”
“Why?” Tanalasta demanded, truly surprised. “Vangerdahast is bound to be closer.”
“Vangerdahast could be anywhere by now. And so could Rowen.”
“No, Rowen’s going to bring the company back this way. That’s what he’s trying to tell us,” Tanalasta said. When her sister frowned, she knew she was making progress and pointed at the boot prints. “Rowen isn’t this careless. If he left a trail, he wanted us to see it.”
Alusair shook her head. “He couldn’t know we’d cross here.”
“He knew we’d be coming over Marshview pass, and we’re only two days south of there,” Tanalasta said. “We’re going south, while the trail runs west. We had to cross it somewhere.”
Several men dared to murmur their agreement.
Alusair shot them a warning scowl, then looked back to Tanalasta. “You’re reading an awful lot into one set of boot prints. If you’re mistaken-“
“I’m not,” Tanalasta insisted. “I know Rowen.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Alusair’s face hardened, then she uncorked her waterskin and turned to fill it from the stream. “I’ve made up my mind. I won’t take these men chasing across the Storm Horns just because you’ve got an itch to share someone’s bedroll.”
Tanalasta’s jaw fell, and not only because she was not accustomed to having the affairs of her heart discussed in such a manner. “Now we are cutting to the core of the matter, I think.” She followed her sister down to the stream bank. “Are you really so frightened of me finding a man that you would subject your company to another tenday of fever just to keep us apart?”
“If you’re talking about Rowen Cormaeril, I wouldn’t need to bother!” Alusair retorted. Her men quickly began to finish filling their waterskins and retreat onto the shore, where they stood staring at their feet or gazing into the woods. The princess ignored them and continued to address Tanalasta. “Vangerdahast won’t let that little dalliance go any further than it has already.”
“It is not a dalliance!” Tanalasta spat. A wave of cold anger rose up inside her, and she decided the time had come to let Alusair know there were two stubborn princesses in the Obarskyr line. “Vangerdahast can’t do a damn thing about it.”
Alusair’s lip rose. “Has the fever consumed your wits? If you keep pushing this, Vangerdahast will see to it that Rowen Cormaeril spends more time in Anauroch than a Bedine camel-milker.”
“Vangerdahast no longer has that authority,” said Tanalasta. “At least not over Rowen.”
“What are you talking about? Formal or not, Vangerdahast has that authority over everyone in Cormyr-except maybe the royal family.”
“Exactly.” Tanalasta took a deep breath, then said, “I suppose the time has come to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Alusair narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”
“Come now, Alusair. Aren’t you the worldly one?” Not quite able to keep a smug smile off her face, Tanalasta turned to Alusair’s men. “Let it be known that the princess has married. Rowen Cormaeril is now a Husband Royal.” Alusair stepped in front of Tanalasta. “You may disregard my sister-and I’m sure you’re all wise enough to know what will happen if her words are ever repeated.”
The men shut their gaping mouths and looked more uncomfortable than ever. Alusair eyed them a moment longer, then spun on her sister.
“And you!” she demanded. “Eloping? With a Cormaeril? That marriage will last until about thirty seconds after Father hears of it-and then it will be too bad for poor Rowen. He doesn’t deserve to be banished.”
“And he won’t,” said Tanalasta. “Not unless the king cares to inflict the same punishment on me-and that’s what it would take. I won’t renounce Rowen. I’m in love with him.”
“Love?” Alusair’s face reddened with fear. “You’re the crown princess, you selfish witch! Think of the kingdom!”
“Selfish?” An unexpected calm came over Tanalasta, and she spoke to her sister in a composed-even serene-voice. “Alusair, you really aren’t the one to be calling others selfish. The fear in your face is plain to see. Would you really sacrifice my happiness so you can keep gallivanting around the Stonelands and sleeping with any young noble who happens to catch your eye?”
The alarm drained quickly from Alusair’s face. She managed an unexpected smile, then spoke in a softer voice. “Of course not. People expect that from me. I wouldn’t have to stop.” She slammed the toe of her boot into a horse apple, kicking it into the stream. “What scares me is that I won’t be any good. You’d make a far better queen.”
“If that were true, why would you be trying to keep me away from Rowen? Wouldn’t you trust me to do what is right for myself-and Cormyr?”
“It’s not Rowen,”Alusair said, meeting her sister’s gaze. “I’ve had a go at him myself-“
“Alusair!”
Alusair raised a silencing hand. “I know-he’s spoken for. All I’m saying is, he’s a fine fellow-but, Tanalasta,
