Crusade

the blade menacingly. 'Don't mock the crusade or the king again. I won't stand for it.'

As soon as the fletcher raised his foot, Yugar rolled toward his sword. He glanced back at Razor John, then slowly stood and picked up his weapon. For an instant, the fletcher wondered if the boy was going to attack. An angry shout settled the question.

'I'll have you both standing unarmed and naked before the next Tuigan charge if you don't get back to work!' Brunthar Elventree shouted.

Razor John sheathed his dagger and pulled his ax from the pole. The fiery dalesman who commanded the Alliance's archers moved to the fletcher's side.

'Is there a problem here, soldier?' Brunthar growled, gesturing at Yugar. 'Have you mistaken him for a barbarian?'

Razor John looked up at the general. A broad, bloodstained bandage covered much of the dalesman's bright red hair, and a large lump of cotton wadding lay over his right ear. John knew that General Elventree had lost part of that ear to a Tuigan sword in the first battle. 'No, sir,' the fletcher replied.

Narrowing his eyes, Brunthar studied John for a moment, just long enough to make the fletcher uncomfortable. 'I won't have any more fights between you, then,' he said at last. He flicked his eyes to Yugar, and when he saw the mercenary was still scowling, Brunthar pointed to another cluster of workmen. 'Get moving. I want you preparing spikes with those men.'

Yugar muttered a curse, but turned away quickly and headed toward the other workmen. Brunthar had heard the remark, though. He was considering how to make the young mercenary regret the stupid comment when a commotion broke out behind him. When he spun around, he expected to see another brawl; the presence of both King Azoun and his daughter certainly surprised the commander of the Alliance's archers.

The king was dressed in a tunic of royal purple, with hose to match. He limped heavily upon his wounded left leg and used a walking stick of plain, dark wood for support. Except for the walking stick-and the Cormyrian battle crown that rested upon his wrinkled brow-Azoun looked like many of the soldiers who prepared for the battle. In her chain mail hauberk and silken surcoat of purple, Alusair was clothed the same as any member of the king's guard.

'Your Highness,' Brunthar said, bowing formally. 'I hope you are feeling well this afternoon.'

Azoun nodded and lifted his walking stick in a casual salute. The dalesman's formal greeting was a great sign of deference, the king realized, so he did not let the opportunity to return the favor pass. 'Our healers seem to be able to call upon their gods for miracles,' he replied. After a cursory glance at the fortifications the archers were preparing under Brunthar's guidance, the king added, 'Very impressive work, General Elventree.'

'Thank you, Your Highness,' the dalesman replied. 'Everything is as you and the princess requested.'

'But better than we had hoped to build in so short a time,' Alusair offered, following her father's lead. 'Let's hope the rest of the Alliance will be as prepared for the battle as your men.'

After bowing again, Brunthar looked toward the sun. 'The meeting is at sunset?' he asked.

'Indeed.' The king motioned with his walking stick toward the stretch of the Golden Way that snaked out from the western lines. 'Out in front of the first rank. We'll see you there.'

Azoun and Alusair set off on their tour of the lines again, leaving Brunthar and the archers to their work. For the last hour, the king had been walking through the camp, his daughter at his side. The review was mostly for show, to let the troops know that he was healthy and in command of the Alliance again. It was a painful exercise in rumor-quashing, however, and the king often found his leg wound throbbing angrily at the exertion.

'General Elventree has certainly changed in the last month,' Azoun noted. He grimaced slightly as he made his way over a small ditch. 'When he first took command of the archers he had no regard for my position at all.'

'Is that why you were so careful to compliment him?' the princess asked.

Azoun nodded, then gave a short bow in response to the greetings of a group of archers. 'Partially. Brunthar has proven himself a good commander. The dalelords were correct in sending him.' He paused and marveled at how much he had opposed the idea of a dalesmen commanding the archers.

'What are the other reasons?'

'Just a moment, Allie,' the king said when he spotted a messenger running toward them. After receiving word about the most recent scouting forays, Azoun said, 'If we seem to be calm, seem to handle the preparations for battle with some confidence, the troops will take strength from our example. If I praise Brunthar, his men will know they are doing what we expect-'

'So they'll hope they are prepared for the next assault,' the princess concluded. She frowned slightly and swatted a mosquito. 'I thought so. I mean, that's why I said what I did to General Elventree.'

Noting the look of concern on his daughter's face, the king asked, 'Does that bother you?'

Alusair considered how to form her concern, how to put it into words. Finally, she adopted the most direct approach; though rather blunt, it seemed the most accurate. 'It seems like we're lying.'

The reply didn't surprise Azoun. In fact, ever since he had allowed the rumors about the Tuigan and his 'escape' from their camp to circulate, he'd been troubled by that same thought. After all, those rumors had been partly to blame for the disastrous cavalry charge in the last Tuigan encounter. Azoun had come to no conclusions, however, so he simply didn't know how to respond to Alusair's comment.

Father and daughter remained silent for a time. Alusair knew the king well enough to realize that he was wrestling with the problem, not ignoring it. They'd spent many hours in Azoun's study in Cormyr embroiled in similar debates, and the pattern was always the same: in the course of a discussion, Alusair would pose a particularly challenging question. Rather than toss off a quick reply or dismiss the problem, the king would consider the issue, pacing back and forth, occasionally glancing at a book or two.

The scenery around Alusair and Azoun now had little in common with that study. As they walked, they passed the groups of archers preparing palisades. Many of the soldiers were finished chopping points onto the poles, and some were even setting the eight- to ten-foot-long spikes into the ground. Alusair had never been in a cavalry charge that had been forced to face that kind of defense, but she was certain that it must be terrifying to break against a line, only to find huge sharpened stakes braced in the ground, leveled at you or your mount. She shivered and dismissed the grisly thought.

After a time, in which Azoun distractedly returned the bows and greetings of his troops, the king and his daughter looked away from the line of palisades and moved back toward the Golden Way. The sun was beginning to sink in the west, and a few of the Alliance's commanders had already gathered in the road for their meeting.

'I don't lie when I encourage the troops, for I believe that they-that we can actually win,' the king replied at last. He stopped and looked back at the soldiers toiling away, some setting spikes, others placing small barricades before the first rank. 'I have my doubts, but it isn't my place to share those with the soldiers. They need a leader, not a doomsayer.'

Alusair paused for a moment. 'Farl told me about Lord Harcourt,' she began. The pain that registered on the king's face at the mention of the cavalry charge made the princess regret bringing up the subject. 'This isn't the time-' she added quickly.

'If not now, when?' the king replied, a bit too sharply. He spun around as swiftly as his wounded leg would allow and headed toward the meeting. 'I don't know what to say about Harcourt and the nobles,' he admitted as he trudged along.

'Perhaps you shouldn't have let the rumors about the Tuigan circulate,' Alusair offered bluntly.

Alusair wasn't saying anything that Azoun's conscience hadn't suggested to him over and over already. When he told his daughter this, she nodded. Then it was her turn to be silent. For a moment, it seemed that the conversation would end there.

When he stepped onto the road, however, Azoun put his hand on his daughter's arm. 'When you were in command of the army last night, how did you make your decisions?' he asked.

'I did what I thought was right.'

Azoun nodded. The reply was exactly what he'd expected. 'That was how I decided to let the rumors about my deeds in the Tuigan camp circulate. From the counsel I received, I concluded that the army would be far better off if I didn't dash their enthusiasm.'

'Then you didn't take the most important counselor into consideration,' the princess said. She pointed at the king's chest. 'You didn't listen to your heart. You didn't do what your conscience told you was the right thing to do.'