Lords rested in the grasp of a wide-eyed palace guard. “Even an escort of two full companies wouldn’t guarantee your arrival.”
“There are safer ways to travel-and faster,” said Vangerdahast.
“Not if you mean teleporting,” Tanalasta replied. “Not with Nalavara so near.”
“She takes teleporters out of the air the way hawks take sparrows,” explained Owden. “The realm has lost too many men to her already.”
“The last just this morning, I fear,” said Alaphondar. He was seated in the corner, leaning back against the balustrade with the spyglass to his eye. “No one has heard from Korvarr and his company since they left.”
Vangerdahast saw the guilty look that flashed across Tanalasta’s face and realized she was beginning to second-guess her decisions. He gave Filfaeril’s arm a last squeeze, then returned to the balcony to stand beside the princess.
“When this is over, we must remember to commend Korvarr for his sacrifice,” Vangerdahast said. “No doubt, it was his distraction that allowed Lords Tolon and Braerwinter to carry the king to safety.”
Tanalasta smiled and took his hand. “What did you do with our royal magician? The Vangey I recall would not have been so kind.” She looked past Vangerdahast, her attention returned to the distant ghazneth. “Alaphondar, any guess as to who that is?”
“I don’t think it’s Boldovar,” answered the sage. “The body appears too lanky, and there seems to be long hair blowing over its back.”
“Suzara, then.” The relief in Tanalasta’s voice was clear. “Do you think we have any chance of luring her down here?”
“She’s being very cautious,” said the sage, “but she must be desperate or she wouldn’t be circling the palace.”
“Then we must appear desperate ourselves and offer her something tempting,” said Tanalasta. She stepped past Vangerdahast and addressed the guards in the drawing room.
“Send a messenger. The Queen’s Cavalry is to prepare at once for a hard ride, and have the royal magician’s coward of a horse readied to go with them.”
“Cadimus?” Vangerdahast gasped. At least there was some good news. “He’s here? How?”
“It is a long story,” said Tanalasta. “But were I you, I would stay close to that horse. He has a talent for survival.”
As Tanalasta explained her plan and issued the necessary orders, Vangerdahast could not help swelling with pride. The princess had become as natural a leader as her father and sister, though with a harder edge than Azoun and a keener sense of human frailty than Alusair. Even Filfaeril, as distraught and frightened as she was over Alusair’s loss and the terrible wounds Azoun had suffered, seemed to take comfort in Tanalasta’s sure orders. The crown princess was going to make a fine queen someday-though preferably not too soon and preferably of something more than Cormyr’s ruins.
When Tanalasta finished her commands, Vangerdahast nodded sagely. “A sound plan, Princess, but I do have one suggestion.”
“You may suggest anything, Vangerdahast,” said Tanalasta, “but do recall that I have destroyed four of these things by now.”
“I could hardly forget, Highness,” he said, smiling. She had given him a complete account of each ghazneth’s destruction, including that of spiteful Luthax, who had mumbled curses and threats from inside his iron box even as she absolved him of his betrayal. Vangerdahast touched his iron crown, which even Owden had not been able to dislodge with his prayers. “All I ask is that you let me handle the iron. Iron I can do, and since your plan depends on impressing Suzara with the palace’s luxury, it might be wisest not to tear the place up before she sees it.”
Tanalasta nodded, then issued orders for her dragoneers to wait outside the door in case something went wrong and asked Alaphondar to the escort her mother to a safe place. Vangerdahast was surprised when Filfaeril did not protest. Matters had changed a great deal over the past eight months-a very great deal.
Once the queen was gone, the princess guided Vangerdahast into a quiet corner where they would not be overheard as dragoneers bustled about making final preparations.
“While we’re waiting, there was something I wanted to ask you about.”
Vangerdahast’s stomach filled with butterflies. He had a good idea what she intended to ask, and his promise to Rowen prevented him from giving an honest answer. Ordinarily, he would not have been troubled by the prospect of a little prevarication, but this was a different Tanalasta than the one he had left behind. She would not be easily deceived.
He folded his hands behind his back. “Of course, Highness,” he said. “Ask me anything.”
Tanalasta hesitated, then said, “When I contacted you, I was trying to reach Rowen.”
“So I gathered.”
She fingered the silver amulet that hung from her neck. “We were using Rowen’s holy symbol as a focus.”
Vangerdahast raised his brow. “How very unusual that you contacted me, then.”
“Yes, isn’t it? And both times before I saw you, there was a shadowy face first-a shadowy face that resembled Rowen, but with white eyes.”
Vangerdahast put on a concerned frown. “And what did Owden say about this face?”
“That he didn’t know what to make of it,” said Tanalasta. “Any more than why Rowen’s symbol should have led me to you.”
“And so you are asking me?” Vangerdahast shook his head sagely. “Souls are Owden’s concern, not mine.”
Tanalasta sighed. “Of course they are, but I was wondering if you might not have been there alone.”
“I was hardly alone, Highness.” Vangerdahast tapped his iron crown. “There were plenty of Grodd. They made me their king, if you’ll recall.”
“I’m not talking about goblins.”
“Then I guess I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vangerdahast shrugged. “I can assure you, I was the only man there. My, er, subjects would certainly have brought it to my attention if there were others.”
“The thing is, if Rowen was there, he might not have looked like a man.” Tanalasta looked at the corner, then continued with a catch in her throat. “Before I destroyed Xanthon, he said something cruel.”
“That’s hardly surprising. I hope you made him suffer for it.”
“Nothing I could have done would have been enough,” she said. “He claimed that Rowen had betrayed Cormyr.”
“Rowen?” Vangerdahast tried to sound surprised.
Tanalasta raised a hand. “He said that Rowen was one of them.”
“What? A ghazneth?” Vangerdahast shook his head in mock disappointment. “Princess, I’m surprised at you. I’d have thought you understood by now how evil feeds on doubt.”
“I know,” said Tanalasta, “but there was that face. It looked so much like Ro-“
“Because that is what you wanted to see,” Vangerdahast interrupted. He took the princess by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Rowen would never betray Cormyr, or you. I know that, even if you do not.”
Tanalasta’s face softened. “Thank you, Vangerdahast.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, then said, “You’re right. I do know it.”
“Good.” The sigh under Vangerdahast’s breath was not quite one of relief. The princess had given up a little too easily, perhaps because she really did not want to know the truth. He took her hand and started toward the center of the room. “We should see to our ghazneth.”
Tanalasta looped her arm through Vangerdahast’s elbow. “By all means. And, Vangerdahast, why did you never ask me who fathered my child?”
“I didn’t?”
Tanalasta shook her head. “You didn’t seem curious at all.”
Vangerdahast assumed a gruff voice. “I assumed it to be Rowen. It would be too much to hope you had married somebody appropriate.”
“Really. And who said I was married?”
Vangerdahast cursed under his breath. The girl was too smart for her own good. “You’d better be,” he said. “The last thing Cormyr needs now is a succession war.”
