It was a tone Vangerdahast often adopted when discussing politics. 'In the Yanitsava, the book of the Enlightened One's teachings, it is written that, 'Some men take the thread of their life and weave their own destiny'. The priests of the Red Mountain believe that these men are evil, that they do not accept the will of the Enlightened One, that they force their own will over the pattern of the world.'
'And you, Koja,' Azoun said. 'Do you believe that?'
The priest laughed. 'I was once a lama of the Red Mountain, but I am now as much that as I am an envoy of the Khazari. My time with the Tuigan taught me that I am a far better historian than philosopher.'
Koja then turned to Azoun. 'Still, I know this much about men like Yamun Khahan: the world cannot bear their presence for too long. Yamun tried to make the world over in his image, to weave a picture that would encompass the entire globe.' He gestured with an open hand at the army spread around the two of them. 'But the world always has other great men to oppose such plans.'
'Your Highness,' Farl Bloodaxe interrupted. The general, dressed casually in the tunic and breeches of a Cormyrian soldier, bowed formally. 'I've just passed the word on to the infantry captains, and Brunthar has done the same with the archers. The army should be ready to move tomorrow morning.'
'Good,' Azoun replied, placing his hand on Farl's shoulder. 'See that the men draw fresh water from the wells tonight and double the foraging parties. I'm sure the troops will want to get back to the coast as quickly as possible, so the fewer times we need to slow to hunt for food the better.'
Thom and Vangerdahast caught up to Azoun, and Koja bowed and went off with them. When the others had gone, Farl stepped close to the king. 'There seems to be a problem with the orcs, Your Highness. When I told Vrakk the news, he informed me that the Zhentish troops weren't leaving.'
After giving Farl a few more suggestions about stocking the supply wagons, Azoun went directly to the orcs' camp. The men had grown used to the Zhentish soldiers, but Vrakk and his troops still maintained their own compound, away from the humans. They had proven their worth in battle, and the other soldiers would have likely let the orcs integrate their tents with the rest of the Alliance. For some mysterious reason, Vrakk always refused.
As the king entered the Zhentish camp, he decided that that was probably a good thing. The orcs had chosen the most run-down section of Tammar for their home. Their torn and dirty tents were pitched only a few yards from where the town's garbage had been dumped and the funeral pyres had been built for the townsfolk. The place smelled rancid, but the orcs didn't seem to notice. They lounged in their tents, hidden from the bright sunlight.
Only a few Zhentish troopers seemed to be awake, and most of these were sprawled around smoking campfires, swilling wine and eating their midday meal.
Vrakk was seated near one such collection of orcs. He still wore his black leather armor, and Azoun noticed for the first time that, while the orcs' surroundings were like a sty, their piecemeal armor and scavenged weapons were relatively clean.
'General Bloodaxe tells me you are reluctant to leave,' Azoun said casually. He held his hand up when another orc offered him a wineskin. 'Thank you, but, no.'
Vrakk snarled at the orc with the wineskin, and the smaller, brown-furred trooper slouched down and concentrated on the hunk of meat he had burning in the fire. 'Orcs not go home,' Vrakk replied. 'That our orders.'
'Orders?' Azoun asked. 'From whom?'
'Zhentil Keep,' the orc replied. Vrakk's tone revealed that he was surprised at Azoun's ignorance. 'We new outpost. They order us stay in Thesk.'
A frown crept across Azoun's face as he regarded the orcish commander. 'And you've had these orders from the time you left the Keep, haven't you?'
Vrakk smiled, or what passed for that expression with the orc. His large teeth showed yellow and filmy in the sunshine. 'Keep say we stay with Alliance till Tuigan gone. They say orcs trust Ak-soon to let leave in Thesk.'
I gave my word to those villains, the king concluded silently, and they've used me to place a damned Zhentish outpost of almost nine hundred orcs in the middle of an ally's territory. Azoun sighed. 'I don't suppose you'll be setting up your camp here in Tammar, so take your share of the supplies and leave right after sunset. I know your troops can travel by night, so that shouldn't be a problem.'
The Zhentish commander found this agreeable, and wasn't offended at all when the king refused his invitation to share the noon meal with him. Though Vrakk appeared rather ignorant, he knew exactly why Azoun was distressed by the revelation of their plans.
'I will tell the Theskan authorities that your troops stayed in their territory,' Azoun warned solemnly as he prepared to leave. 'They'll consider you trespassers, Vrakk.'
The orc's toothy grin widened. 'We good soldiers, Ak-soon, but we better raiders, better thieves. Thesk big place with plenty spots to hide.' He grabbed the wineskin from his brown-haired comrade and took a long swallow.' 'Sides, we learn plenty about war from you. We be safe.'
That thought didn't comfort Azoun at all. As he walked back to the royal compound, the king wondered if Koja was right. For all the good that he had intended to do on the crusade, Azoun now saw very little evidence that he'd succeeded. The town of Tammar, like so many other villages and hamlets in Thesk, Ashanath, and Rashemen, lay in ruins, the buildings toppled and the fields uncultivated. The Tuigan army was broken, but not gone from the West. The small groups of bandits that remained would likely plague traders and farmers for years to come. And now the orcs. The Theskan government would not be happy to learn that a band of professional Zhentish soldiers was loose in their land.
I've freed Thesk from Yamun Khahan and made it safe for bandits and spies, Azoun concluded darkly.
The king scowled at himself for being so morose. 'I've won far more than that,' he said as he looked around at the Army of the Alliance.
The troopers were celebrating the news that the war was officially over. Men went happily about the task of breaking down the camp, and the soldiers Azoun passed greeted him loudly. Some even cheered him. However, it was more than the mood of the camp that made the king realize that he'd won more than was lost. As he looked out on the faces of the archers and infantrymen, he no longer saw the motley collection of dalesmen and Sembians, Cormyrians and mercenaries, that had left Suzail those many months ago. Azoun saw a unified force, a group of men and women brought together to fight for Faerun.
And if these disparate soldiers could be forged together for such a cause, why not their countries?
With that ambitious thought in mind, the king crossed royal compound. His pavilion still stood, its brightly colored sides flapping gaily in the light breeze. For a moment, he considered giving the order to have it dismantled; the rest of the army would likely sleep on the ground tonight so that they would not be delayed with packing their tents come morning. Perhaps when I'm done talking to Alusair, he decided, and turned toward her tent.
Azoun found the princess stuffing her few belongings into a rough canvas sack. The falcon that Jad Eyesbright had loaned to her sat on a makeshift perch, its head covered with a leather hood, next to Alusair's armor. Whenever the princess would bump into the dwarven plate mail, the bird would give a little screech in complaint of the disturbing noise.
'Hello, Father,' she said as the king entered. Alusair tied the canvas sack and tossed it near the door. 'I've heard the news. You're leaving tomorrow morning?'
'What do you mean, 'you're leaving?' ' Azoun asked. He sat down on the tent's sole cot and shook his head in disbelief. 'Aren't you coming home?'
Alusair sat down next to Azoun. 'Yes,' she said. 'But not just yet.'
The king choked on his words, then sputtered, 'Not now? When, Allie? Your mother and sister expect you-'
'Please,' the princess broke in. She bowed her head. 'I don't want to argue. Not now.'
Gripping Alusair's hands tightly, the king fought back the confusion that was growing inside of him. In the course of the crusade, his relationship with his daughter had grown beyond the conflict that had stood between them. Azoun was proud of Alusair, and he thought she realized that. 'It's all right, Allie. Just tell me why.'
'I have things I have to do before I can come home. I've made some promises over the last few years, and I have some debts to settle.' She laughed. 'I have responsibilities to fulfill.'
The king didn't miss the irony in his daughter's words. 'When will you come home, then?'
Alusair sighed, a bit raggedly. 'I think I'll be home in a few months. Probably before winter sets in.' After a short pause, she added, 'Thank you for understanding, Father. This is just something I have to do.'
