Galaeron shrugged. 'How can I know? But she has to have a better hope in Waterdeep than I do. Lord Piergeiron certainly isn't going to take my word over Laeral's.'
An approving twinkle came to Ruha's eyes. 'You may survive this yet. I think you are finally learning to control your shadow self.' She glanced over at a pair of Shadovar stone cutters who had stopped work to watch them pass, then added, 'But perhaps we would draw less attention if we disguised ourselves and found a safe place to leave Aris.'
'At this point, speed is better than stealth,' Galaeron said. 'The sooner we present ourselves at the palace, the more difficult it will be for Telamont Tanthul to have a troop of his lords spirit us back to the enclave.'
'Well said,' Aris agreed, glancing out over the half-built city. 'Besides, there isn't a place to hide a stone giant within twenty miles of here.'
It was no exaggeration. Though Storm had teleported them into a field only a quarter mile outside Arabel, the walk to the gates had been plenty long enough to bear witness to the devastation wrought by the dragon Nalavarauthatoryl and her ghazneths and ores. Even a year after the terrible war, nothing grew in the once-lush fields except a few black thistles and carpets of foul-smelling moss, while the great forest that had once flourished to the south and west of the city was still struggling to put the first spindly leaves in its canopy.
Despite their presence in Arabel, the Shadovar were not helping matters. With the melting of the High Ice carrying so much rain and cool air west toward Water-deep, a steady wind had been blowing northward through Cormyr, carrying with it the heat of the southlands and the mugginess of the Dragonmere. Had the zephyr but dropped a fraction of its moisture on its way over the kingdom, the change of weather might actually have helped matters. Instead, the air remained miserly with its water until it crashed into the northern Stormhorns and abruptly cooled. As a result, the kingdom was enduring its worst, hottest, most miserable drought in a thousand years, while at the same time its two largest rivers, the Starwater and the Wyvernflow, were flooding their banks and washing away whole villages.
Galaeron was far from certain that he would be able to secure an audience with the rulers of the kingdom, much less persuade the Cormyreans that Shade Enclave was causing their problems. But, as Storm had said, they would be eager for an explanation and inclined to listen. All he had to do was get the shadow blanket into Vangerdahast's hands. After that, the royal wizard would convince himself.
They reached the city palace, which-to Galaeron's great disappointment-had been rebuilt from the second story in the same pearly stone as Villa Dusari. Atop the highest spires, dozens of Shadovar polishers were crawling over the turrets like spiders, putting the final touches on the magnificent building. Fortunately, the guards at the door still wore Cormyr's purple dragon, or Galaeron would have concluded that the Shadovar had claimed Arabel for their own and left immediately.
As the trio ascended the steps, two of the guards crossed their halberds in front of the entrance. The sergeant-no older than his comrades, but with a badly scarred face and an eye patch-stepped forward to address them.
'You have business with Lord Myrmeen?' he demanded.
Galaeron shook his head. 'Our business is with Princess Alusair and her wizard,' he said. 'It concerns the abnormal weather Cormyr has been suffering of late.'
The sergeant seemed not to hear the last part of his explanation. 'This is the palace of Myrmeen Lhal,' he said. 'The Steel Regent keeps her home-and her wizard-in Suzail.'
Alarm bells started clanging inside Galaeron's mind. 'You are saying Arabel is no longer part of Cormyr?'
The sergeant's one eye narrowed. 'What I'm saying is that unless you have business with Myrmeen Lhal-'
'We have it on good authority that Princess Alusair and Vangerdahast are inside,' Ruha interrupted. She removed the Harper's pin from inside her robe and pressed it into his hand. 'Please deliver that to her with the message that our lives may depend on a swift audience-and perhaps the fate of Cormyr's growing season, as well.'
'Harpers?' The sergeant barely glanced at the pin. 'Why didn't you say so?'
He turned and vanished into the palace, then returned a moment later with a gangly, horse-faced man in a scarlet cape and purple sash of office. The newcomer returned Ruha's pin and waved them into the palace's grandiose reception hall-so large that, after crawling through the entrance, even Aris could stand upright.
'Welcome. I am Dauneth Marliir, Her Majesty's High Warden,' the man said. 'I'm sorry for the delay, but we have learned to be cautious with information about Her Majesty.'
'We understand,' Ruha said, returning the pin to its place. 'I am Ruha-' 'Yes, I know.' Dauneth flashed a big smile.
Galaeron ignored him and looked down the long arcade of pillars, where he was disappointed to see more Shadovar than humans polishing and buffing.
Dauneth continued to speak with Ruha. 'There are not many Bedine witches in the Harpers.'
'Only one, I am certain,' Ruha laughed. She waved a hand at Galaeron. 'This is Galaeron Nihmedu.'
Dauneth's brow rose in shock, but he managed to recover himself. 'Well met, Galaeron. I have heard of your bravery.' He extended a hand and clasped Galaeron's wrist in the human fashion. 'Prince Rivalen tells me that his father has been most concerned since your disappearance.'
'Yes, I'm sure he has,' Galaeron replied, surprised by the coldness in his own voice. 'He has good reason to be.'
Dauneth's brow rose, prompting Ruha to say, 'It is related to our visit' She half turned to wave at Aris. 'And this is-'
'Aris of a Thousand Faces,' Dauneth finished. He paused and bowed deeply. 'When the palace is finished, Myrmeen intends to display one of your pieces, The Descent of the Shadow Army,' here in the lobby.'
'She does?' The giant's jaw dropped. 'How did she come by it?'
Dauneth smiled enthusiastically. 'A gift from Prince Rivalen, of course.'
The High Warden led the way down a stately side corridor toward a pair of well-guarded double doors, and Galaeron's heart fell. He could see already that Rivalen and his gifts had won the hearts of the Cormyreans, that he had no chance whatsoever of winning Alusair's confidence. Soon, he would either be dead or on his way back to the enclave, and after seeing how close his shadow self had come to getting Aris killed, he knew which he was going to choose. He wanted nothing more than to use his shadow magic to do a sending to Vala and apologize for how he had parted, to let her know that, in the end at least, he had come to his senses and died thinking of her.
And he would have liked to apologize to Takari Moon-snow, as well, for refusing what she had offered. He had always known on some deep level that they were spirit mates and, because of that, assumed she would always be with him, but when he had chosen to help Vala instead of her in the final battle against Wulgreth, he had wounded her more deeply than any lich could have. He knew there could be nothing between them but pain. For the rest of her life, whenever she thought of him, it would fill her with feelings of betrayal and loss.
How could he have been such a coward? Perhaps there had always been a shadow on his heart because of his fear of following it-because in trying to avoid his own pain, he had inflicted it on others. Certainly his father had never turned his back on his feelings. He had loved Morgwais completely from the moment he had met her, all the years they had lived together in Evereska and all the years she had lived apart in the High Forest, and if her absence had caused him anguish, their love had given him the strength to endure it without bitterness or regret.
They reached the double doors and were admitted at once. Aris had to hunch his shoulders to squeeze through this entrance, but inside lay the palace's formal audience hall, with an arched ceiling high enough that the giant could still stand upright by walking down the center of the aisle.
In a raised throne at the far end sat a striking woman with oak-brown eyes and amber hair, one arm resting on her knee as she conversed with a huge Shadovar beside her. Even had Galaeron not glimpsed the man's golden eyes and ceremonial fangs, he would have recognized Prince Rivalen by his immense shoulders and narrow waist. Next to the throne and a little behind it stood an elderly, tired-looking man in a voluminous robe and long white beard who could only be Cormyr's royal wizard, Vangerdahast. Adjacent to him stood the final member of the little group, a statuesque woman with dark hair and eyes as blue as a mountain lake. Dauneth stopped opposite the throne and presented Galaeron and his companions, introducing the woman on the throne as the Steel Regent of
