him that we're obligated to protect the forest, that we couldn't just leave. Anyway, we'll be here to help if the battle ranges this far west. And I offered supplies, too.'
'And he wouldn't hear of it,' Alusair concluded.
'Worse still,' Jad said, the anger rising in his voice again, 'he insulted me, said that I was just laying a trap for them, that I was probably allied with elves or orcs or worse.' He clenched his fists and tried to relax.
Alusair rested a hand on the centaur's arm. 'I'll tell Azoun of your generosity, Jad,' she said. 'I'm sure he'll appreciate the offer.'
The chieftain looked down at the falcon, which was fidgeting nervously on its perch. 'Perhaps there is something I can do to help,' he said. He smiled and added, 'but I'm sure Torg will think I'm doing it to spy on you.'
'You can't give me the hawk.' Alusair motioned toward the bird. 'You need it to patrol your borders.'
'Not really,' Jad said, handing the hawking glove to the princess. 'We know the woods better than anyone, so it's easy for us to creep close to camps and spy.'
When Alusair hesitated, Jad pushed the glove toward her. Eventually he took her hand in his own and placed the leather glove in her fingers. Finally, he unclasped the thin silver bracelet and put it around Alusair's wrist. It was much looser on her arm than it had been on Jad's thick wrist; Alusair held her arm high, and the silver ring slid halfway to her elbow.
Jad briefly explained how the bracelet worked. All Alusair had to do was concentrate on a particular bird, and the bracelet would allow her to see through its eyes for as long as she wanted. The chieftain then added a few cautions about delving too deeply into any bird's mind, and the lesson was over. The princess listened, but her eyes wandered often to the peregrine, now sitting comfortably on the perch, its head tucked down for sleep.
'And I'll expect the bracelet and the falcon returned after you take care of the barbarians,' Jad noted, only half in jest. Alusair agreed, and with little further ado, the centaur stood. 'My regards to your father,' he said as he turned to go. 'I hope to meet him someday.'
Alusair watched sadly as the centaur chieftain galloped toward the forest. Though the moonlight was bright, she lost sight of Jad Eyesbright in the tall grass long before he reached the tree line. However, even after she could no longer see the centaur, Alusair stood in the field, studying the dark, uneven edge of Lethyr Forest, After a while, she looked around at the silent rows of tents in the dark dwarven camp.
Quickly she coaxed the falcon onto her gloved hand and pulled up his perch. The bird cried noisily, but the unnerving sound was music to Alusair. By the time she headed for her tent, the princess was already anxious for tomorrow to dawn so she could let the falcon soar. The bird shrieked again, and a dwarven sentry frowned at the peregrine as Alusair carried it past. It was clear that the dour soldiers from Earthfast would not appreciate the centaur chieftain's gift.
The princess smiled when she realized they wouldn't.
11
The gentle rhythm of the rain on the tent's roof and sides was interrupted by a sharp wind, then the steady, soothing noise continued. Stroking his beard, which he believed was grayer now than when he'd received the letter from Torg four months past, King Azoun sighed. He stared at the jumble of words on the yellowed parchment before him for a moment, then sighed again. When he looked up, the king saw that both Thom Reaverson and Vangerdahast were deeply absorbed in their own work. The wizard was seated in a corner, under the glow of a lantern, while the bard sat directly across the table from Azoun. The lanterns did little to augment the weak daylight bleeding through the tent from the cloudy day outside.
'Are you sure there's no spell you can cast that will allow me to learn to speak Tuigan?' the king asked.
Vangerdahast looked up. 'Eh?' he said wearily. A long scroll slid from his hands onto the tent's canvas floor. 'No, Azoun, there's not. There's a spell that will allow me to speak with them, but that's all I can do. Actually, that should be enough. I can be a capable negotiator if the need arises.'
A rather malicious smile crossed Azoun's lips, and he replied, 'That's exactly why I'm trying to learn Tuigan- so the need won't arise.'
Thom Reaverson stifled a chuckle. He glanced at Azoun, who was smiling, too, then returned his attention to the paper in front of him. Like Azoun, the bard-historian was reviewing a list of common Tuigan phrases, greetings and the like. The foreign words were rendered in Common, spelled phonetically so any westerner could learn them. Both he and Azoun were studying the language in the unlikely event that a diplomatic meeting could be arranged with Yamun Khahan and Vangerdahast's spells didn't work.
Noting the scowl that was slowly spreading over the wizard's wrinkled face, Azoun apologized. 'Sorry to interrupt your work, Vangy. I didn't realize you were so wrapped up in those spells lists. I hope you're having more success than I am.'
The royal magician rubbed his red eyes. 'I should certainly hope so,' he mumbled. He pushed the papers spread at his feet into a neat pile, then bent over and reached for the scroll on the floor. The wizard put his hand on his paunch and groaned slightly as he did so.
'This is not easy work,' Vangerdahast noted when he'd recovered the scroll. 'Each of the spellcasters in the army commands different spells. For the magic units to be of any use, I have to know their potential, know what incantation I can expect from each man and woman.' He glanced at Thom, who was still slouched over the Tuigan vocabulary list. 'And you, Master Bard. Are you finding the Tuigan tongue easier to glean than your king is?'
Tossing his black braid over his shoulder, the bard met Vangerdahast's gaze. 'It's not that difficult,' he said affably. He looked across the table at Azoun, who was watching him carefully. 'Of course, I've had a little exposure to it before.'
Azoun motioned to a thin, battered book that lay to his right on the table. 'This was Thom's, remember? He'd read it-how many times?'
'Four,' the bard answered.
'Four times,' Azoun noted to Vangerdahast, holding up the appropriate number of fingers. 'It's no wonder, he's picking this up faster than I am.' The king reached for the book and opened it to a random page. 'Does Lord Rayburton have much to say about the Tuigan themselves, or did he just take notes on their language?'
Straightening in his seat, Thom said, 'His comments on their dress and the language notes he made are the only things of value. That's why I didn't bring the book to your attention earlier, milord. It's mostly filled with value judgments about the Tuigan's 'barbarism.''
Azoun raised an eyebrow. 'Does Rayburton depict the Tuigan as greater savages than the representative from Rashemen did during the council?'
'Yes, but what makes me doubt his word is the way he describes Shou Lung,' the bard replied. 'He calls the Shou savages, too, and we know that's not true.'
Thom reached for the battered tome and searched for a specific illustration. 'Still, Lord Rayburton was an adventurer-one of the first men to cross from the West to Shou Lung without magical aid,' he explained as he leafed through the book. He paused and added, 'There are some wonderful songs about him, I'll sing you one some time.'
'The Tuigan,' Vangerdahast prompted.
Thom found the page he was searching for and returned the book to Azoun. 'Before Yamun Khahan, the steppe riders were only nomadic clans, far less organized than they are now. Still, from all I've heard, their basic culture has advanced little since Rayburton's time.'
The illustration made Azoun gasp. There, in crude line drawings, was a depiction of a horsewarrior flaying a man alive. To the warrior's right, another soldier was slitting his horse's leg and drinking its blood. A line of sticks with heads impaled upon them served as a backdrop for the grisly scene. The king passed the book to the royal wizard, who only shrugged.
'Let's hope, for our emissaries' sake, that Rayburton and Fonjara Galth were exaggerating the Tuigan's cruelty,' Vangerdahast noted as he stood and stretched.
