“That would be Korian Hovanay,” said the man. “Ambassador of the Consortium Princes of Saerloon, Selgaunt, and all of Sembia, at your service, Majesty.”
Filfaeril glanced at Tanalasta and cocked her brow, but the princess paid the gesture no regard and motioned the man forward again.
“Come along, Ambassador Hovanay,” she said, playing along. “We are discussing serious matters here. We do not have all day to wait on your bowing and scraping.”
Korian quickly rose and started forward again, and Tanalasta’s heart sank a little further. The man’s face was fleshier than her husband’s, and it lacked the chiseled, weatherworn aspect that had attracted her to Rowen in the first place.
Still, Sembians liked to eat well, as though the number of a squid tails and octopus legs a man could afford to choke down were a measure of his acumen as a merchant. Two months of such rich, heavily buttered food would fatten the cheeks of even the hardiest royal scout.
Now the Sembian began to speak as he walked. “I apologize for keeping Her Majesty waiting, and will endeavor to be brief. Cormyr’s many and growing troubles in the north and elsewhere having come to my masters’ attention, they have bade me come to Suzail and offer their every assistance.”
“Assistance?” Tanalasta echoed, finding it difficult to concentrate on the man’s words instead of his face. “What kind of assistance?”
“The kind the crown of Cormyr finds to be mutually agreeable.” The ambassador stopped at the base of the stairs and started to bow again, then caught himself and simply continued. “At this moment, my masters have an army of ten thousand sellswords commanded by our own Sembian officers on the march toward Daerlun.”
“Ten thousand?” Filfaeril gasped.
Tanalasta barely heard her mother, for she saw now that this handsome ambassador could not be her Rowen. Though hardly fat-especially by Sembian standards-the merchant’s softness clung to him like a blanket, and his mannerisms had the smooth, practiced air of an accomplished liar.
“Ten thousand sellswords?” Filfaeril repeated, this time more into Tanalasta’s ear than toward the ambassador. “That is not help. That is an invasion.”
Korian raised his hands in denial. “Nothing of the sort is meant. My masters only wish me to convey that the army is advancing to the Swamprun for our own protection. And since it will already be close, they thought-“
“They might as well claim southern Cormyr,” Tanalasta said. Now that she had discovered the error of her assumptions, the princess’s amiable disposition toward the man was replaced by an unreasonably terse anger. “Ambassador Hovanay, you may return to your masters with our thanks-and this warning: While their armies remain on Sembia’s side of the Swamprun, our countries remain at peace.”
The ambassador’s eyes widened in a practiced show of surprise. “Majesty, I fear you misinterpret my masters’ intentions.”
“And I fear I do not,” replied Tanalasta.
“And I fear you are being too hasty,” said Lord Goldsword. He dared to place a foot on the bottom stair of the dais, prompting Korvarr Rallyhorn and a dozen more of Tanalasta’s bodyguards to grab the hilts of their swords and flank him.
Goldsword remained where he was. “You said yourself that our own armies are occupied in the north, and I’m sure I speak for every noble here when I say we have our hands full enough just trying to keep these ghazneths off our lands.”
He glanced around the chamber and received an enthusiastic round of hear, hears. Only Giogi Wyvernspur, Ildamoar Hardcastle, and a handful of other dour-looking loyalists remained silent.
A terrible anger welled up inside Tanalasta and she descended a single step toward Emlar Goldsword. “Are you a coward, sir?”
Emlar’s jaw dropped, and his face turned stormy and red. “I beg your pardon?”
Tanalasta descended another step, ignoring Korvarr Rallyhorn’s startled head shake. “I believe my question was clear enough, Goldsword. I asked if you were a coward.”
Emlar’s face turned the color of Tanalasta’s royal robe. He started to ascend the stairs to meet the princess-only to find the tip of Korvarr’s dagger pressed beneath his chin.
“What-” Emlar was so furious he had to stop and lift his shaking jowls off the dagger before continuing. “What is the meaning of this?”
Tanalasta descended another step, bringing her to within arm’s length of the quivering noble. “The crown demands to know.” She reached out and slapped the man. “Are you such a coward that you’d rather sell your realm than defend it?”
“I-I-I ought to-“
“Careful.” Korvarr pricked his dagger beneath the man’s chin. “You’re speaking to the throne.”
Emlar glared at the princess. “You… are… not the… king.”
“No, I am the crown princess acting in his absence.” Tanalasta looked to Korvarr, then said, “If that is all Lord Goldsword cares to hide behind, let us see how brave he really is. Korvarr, stand back and let him go.”
The lionar’s eyes flashed in alarm, but he sheathed his dagger and backed away as ordered. Tanalasta stepped down another stair, so that she was now standing eye-to-eye with Goldsword.
“Well?”
Goldsword’s body began to shake so violently that Tanalasta thought he would drop dead. His hand drifted toward his sword belt, and a series of sharp chimes echoed through the chamber. Giogi Wyvernspur and a few others drew their own weapons. That was enough for Emlar, who backed off the step and turned to leave.
“Lord Goldsword!” Tanalasta snapped.
Emlar stopped, but did not turn around. “What now, Princess?”
“Now that you have answered my question, you are free to go.”
Emlar paused, then started toward the door at a brisk, overly dignified march. As he passed, the other nobles looked away and said nothing.
Tanalasta waited until his steps had grown distant enough not to compete with her voice, then said quietly, “Anyone else who would rather trade our land than fight for it may join him.”
She paused a moment to see if anyone would accept the offer, and Ambassador Hovanay started to leave as well.
“Not yet, Ambassador. There’s something I want you to understand.”
Hovanay turned. “I think you have made your point clearly enough.”
“Humor me,” Tanalasta said. She looked to Giogi Wyvernspur, who, having heard the audience was to be a council of war, had come to the audience dressed in a gleaming suit of steel plate. “Lord Wyvernspur, may I take it that you and yours stand at the crown’s service?”
Giogi raised his sword in salute. “You may.”
“Then you are to prepare an army and hide it well in your Hullack Woods,” said Tanalasta. “Should even one of those sellswords cross the Swamprun, you are to visit upon Sembia all that the ghazneths are visiting upon Cormyr.”
This time, Ambassador Hovanay’s eyes grew genuinely wide. He glanced toward Queen Filfaeril and, finding no support there, looked back to Tanalasta. “I assure you, Princess, that won’t be necessary.”
“Good,” Tanalasta said. “Because it angers me that I must even consider the possibility during our current troubles. You are dismissed.”
Hovanay bowed rather more shallowly than he had before, then left. Tanalasta watched him depart with a growing heaviness in her heart, and not because she feared any trouble Sembia might cause. Whatever their aspirations in Cormyr, Giogi would see to it that they found the price too dear to pay.
Once the ambassador was gone, Tanalasta looked back to the nobles below. “Giogi Wyvernspur has declared himself ready to serve the crown. Who will stand with him?”
Ildamoar Hardcastle, Korvarr Rallyhorn’s father Urthrin, and a handful of others stepped forward to declare their readiness to sacrifice life and fortune on behalf of Cormyr. Most of the other nobles, however, remained ominously silent. Tanalasta surveyed them silently, pausing on each lord just long enough to be sure they knew she had noted their reluctance, then came to the one true surprise, Beldamyr Axehand.
“Lord Beldamyr?” she asked. “The Axehands are not ready to defend Cormyr?”
Beldamyr’s face reddened, but he did not look away. “We are ready,” he said. “When the king calls.”
