Beyond the High Road c-2 Page 5

  “The sweetest fruit I have ever tasted!” he announced. The king used his sleeve to wipe the juices from his beard, then climbed the stairs back to Tanalasta. “A most excellent gift, Princess. We thank you for this wondrous orchard of mountain fruit trees!”

  Tanalasta smiled and curtsied. “You are very welcome, Majesty, but I fear the trees will fade as quickly as they grew. It is not the orchard I am giving you. It is the priests.”

  Azoun’s smile grew confused. “The priests?” He looked from her to Harvestmaster Foley to the twelve monks waiting to collect the dying trees, then finally leaned close to Tanalasta’s ear. “I don’t understand, my dear. Surely, you don’t mean to say that you have brought me slaves?”

  “Hardly.” Buoyed by the success of Owden’s entrance, Tanalasta spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear, “I have persuaded Harvestmaster Foley and his priests to return home with us to establish the Royal Temple of Chauntea.”

  Azoun’s expression changed from one of confusion to one of shock, and Vangerdahast stepped to the king’s side at once.

  “The Royal Temple of Chauntea?” the old wizard gasped. “She can’t be serious!”

  “I am quite serious.” Tanalasta ignored the ire in Vangerdahast’s voice and spoke directly to the nobles below. “The Royal Temple is established to ensure the health of all lands in Cormyr. We shall start with those blighted fields right here in the north.”

  3

  The music of the final allemande still rippling through his mind, Vangerdahast sat hunched in one of the Marliirs’ overstuffed wing chairs, frowning peevishly at the cold ache in his old joints. The clatter outside had all but died as the last of the guests’ carriages departed the courtyard below, and still Azoun insisted on pacing back and forth between him and the warmth of the crackling fire.

  “See here, Majesty, you’re going to have to quit that.” Vangerdahast wagged a gnarled finger at his liege’s feet. “An old man needs his fire.”

  Azoun stopped directly in front of the hearth and faced him. “What could she be thinking?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Vangerdahast said. “Perhaps His Highness forgets that he forbade me from reading her mind?”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t,” said Filfaeril, rising from where she had been resting on the royal magician’s bed.

  Vangerdahast ignored the queen’s remark and muttered a few arcane syllables, then made a series of quick gestures with his fingers. Azoun did not seem to notice as he floated away from the fireplace, then slipped around to stand beside the chair.

  “I’m beginning to worry about what kind of queen Tanalasta is going to make,” said Azoun. “First Bleth nearly tricks her into giving away the throne-“

  “Tanalasta was not the only one fooled by Aunadar,” said Filfaeril. Still dressed in the violet gown she had worn to the ball, she took a seat in the chair next to Vangerdahast. “As I recall, we were quite keen on the man ourselves. Had I not slipped him into the library at an opportune moment, nor had you invited him on the hunt that day, Tanalasta would never have given him a second look.”

  A pained look came to the king’s eye. “Just because a man wants to know his daughter’s suitors does not mean he is thrusting them on her.”

  “No more than we have been thrusting poor Dauneth on her.” Filfaeril shot a glance at Vangerdahast, who pretended not to notice and continued to gaze into the fire. “It is no wonder his mother assumed more than she should have.”

  Azoun nodded. “Yes, I suppose that mess was my fault-but a father can encourage, can’t he? I only want to see her happy.”

  “Happily married,” Filfaeril said, “and pregnant with an heir.”

  Azoun shot his wife a rare frown. “Happy first.”

  “Regardless of the cost to Cormyr?” the queen asked.

  Azoun thought for a moment, then said, “The price of the realm’s good does not have to be Tanalasta’s happiness. Perhaps it is time I realized her calling may not lie in being a ruler.”

  Vangerdahast was so surprised that he nearly choked on his own saliva. Of course, the same thought had been in the back of everyone’s mind since Tanalasta’s embarrassment in the Abraxus Affair, but this was the first time Azoun had voiced it aloud.

  Filfaeril did not seem so shocked. She merely raised a brow, then spoke in an eerily neutral voice. “That would be a big decision.”

  “But not necessarily a hard one. Tanalasta is thirty-six years old. By the time you were her age, she was already fifteen, and Foril would have been…” Azoun did not finish, for neither he nor his queen liked to dwell on the loss of their young son. “Perhaps Tanalasta would be happier without the burden of producing an heir.”

  “Perhaps,” Filfaeril allowed. “She is approaching the age when the choice may no longer be hers, and we must also think of the kingdom.”

  Vangerdahast’s heart sank. Until now, the queen had always been Tanalasta’s greatest supporter, maintaining that the princess would grow into her responsibilities when the time came. If even Filfaeril had lost faith in her eldest daughter, then what support could Tanalasta have left in the rest of the kingdom?

  Azoun stepped over to the hearth and stared into the flames, blocking Vangerdahast’s heat. “Tanalasta isn’t the same. She may have been naive before that Bleth trouble, but she was hardly stupid. Now

  …” The king let the sentence trail, shaking his head in dismay. “Embarrassing Lady Marliir like that was bad enough.”

  “Majesty, we must recall that Tanalasta had some-ah-help in that,” Vangerdahast said. “I seem to recall shaking my head as you turned to start up the rostrum.”

  Azoun regarded Vangerdahast with a look of puzzlement. “I thought you were at odds with the crown princess.”

  “I do not always agree with you either.”

  “Nor do the two of you seek every opportunity to vex each other,” said Filfaeril. “So why are you defending her now?”

  “Because fairness demands it,” said Vangerdahast. “She was merely standing up for herself in an unfair circumstance.”

  “Unfair?” Filfaeril’s eyes narrowed to ice-blue slits. “What game are you playing at now, old trickster? You were the one who said we should give destiny a push and ask the Marliirs to host the king’s party.”

  Vangerdahast felt the heat rising to his face, but it was impossible to disguise the reaction with both royals watching him so closely. In a voice as casual as possible, he said, “I may have pushed rather too hard, milady.”

  “‘Rather too hard?’” Filfaeril demanded. “If you cast any spells on them-“

  “Of course not!” Vangerdahast was truly indignant. “Would I use magic to manipulate the princess’s emotions?”

  “Only as a last resort,” Azoun growled. “So tell us what you did do.”

  “It was but a little thing.” Vangerdahast held up his hand, pressing together his thumb and forefinger to illustrate. “Merely a matter of a few words, really.”

  “Whispered into whose ear?” Filfaeril asked. “Lady Marliir’s?”

  “For one,” Vangerdahast said. “But that really isn’t important.”

  “No wonder Tanalasta has so little use for you!” The king shook his head in disbelief. “That doesn’t excuse this royal temple nonsense. Half the nobles in the land will convert to Chauntea merely to win favor at court, and the other half will take up arms to defend their own faiths. How can she expect me to let this happen?”

  “Because if you don’t, her reputation will be ruined,” Filfaeril said. She went over to stare into the flames, and now Vangerdahast was completely blocked off from the warmth of the fire. “Forgive me for saying so, Azoun, but I think we’re the dense ones here. Our daughter knows exactly what she’s doing.”

  Azoun furrowed his brow. “Let us assume that is so-but to what purpose?”

  “To force our hand, of course,” said Filfaeril. “Obviously, she does not wish to be queen.”

  Vangerdahast was up and standing between th
e royals in an instant. “Let us not leap to conclusions, milady! No one has heard Tanalasta say any such thing.”

  The queen whirled on him with a vehemence that, until that moment, had been reserved for poisoners and plotters. “What do you care, you old meddler? You’ve never wanted Tanalasta to be queen, not since the day she crawled onto Alaphondar’s lap instead of yours.”

  Vangerdahast forced himself to stand fast in the face of her fury and in that moment he saw the first hint of frailty he had observed in the queen’s character in more than forty years of knowing her. It was not the princess who had reservations about ascending the throne, but Filfaeril herself who wanted Tanalasta to rebuff the crown. The queen simply could not bear the thought of the grief and sacrifice her bookish daughter would suffer in having to become something so much larger than she was by her own nature.

  Had the old wizard known her feelings a year earlier, before leaving on his journey with Tanalasta, perhaps he could have honored her wishes. Filfaeril was the closest thing he had to a sister or a wife or a mistress, and he would not have hurt her for all the treasure in the Thousand Worlds, but it was too late now. Screwing on his most enigmatic glower, the wizard met the queen’s furious gaze with an angry conviction he did not quite feel.

  “What you say simply is not true, milady. If I have been hard on the princess, it is only because you and the king have been too soft on her.”

  Filfaeril’s eyes flashed white. “What are you saying, Magician?”

  “That you spoiled your daughter, Majesty-a sin pardonable enough, except that she happened to be the crown princess of Cormyr.”

  “How dare you!”

  Filfaeril’s hand flew up so quickly that it would surely have sent Vangerdahast sprawling, had Azoun not caught her wrist.

  “Not yet, my dear.” Azoun’s eyes were as angry as those of his wife. “First, I’d like him to explain himself.”

  Breathing an inward sigh of relief, Vangerdahast turned to the king and inclined his head. Azoun, at least, would not strike unless he meant to kill.

  “It is simple enough, Highness,” he said. “Between childhood and adulthood is rebellion. You and the queen have been loving parents but not stern, and so your daughters had no one to rebel against. I am privileged to be that person for Tanalasta.”

  “So you have been deliberately provoking her?” Filfaeril demanded.

  “Quite,” Vangerdahast said, almost proudly. “I would say I’ve done rather well, wouldn’t you?”

  Again, Azoun’s quick hand was all that kept the queen’s fist from knocking the old wizard off his feet. Vangerdahast’s heart broke a little as he realized that the fury in her eyes would not soon fade. Still, one sometimes had to pay a steep price for always being right.

  “I want it stopped,” said Azoun. “It isn’t working anyway.”

  “I’m afraid it can’t be stopped.” Vangerdahast did not relish saying that to the king. “Now that it has been stirred, Tanalasta’s fury will not simply fade away-not when it has been corked up inside her for twenty years. This thing will have to run its course now, and it’s better that she is angry at me than at you. That way, we avoid the possibility of treason.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Filfaeril screeched. “Treason? From Tanalasta?”

  “That won’t happen,” Vangerdahast assured her. “As I said, matters are well under control. Tanalasta will develop into a splendid queen.”

  “Like bloody hell she will!” Azoun said. “I suppose the next thing you’ll tell me is that I should let her have this Royal Temple of Chauntea?”

  “Of course not. I didn’t expect that.” Vangerdahast was struggling to keep hold of his own patience. “But I’ll have to be the one to deal with it. If you start trying to deny her at this stage-“

  “I am the king!” Azoun roared. “I’ll do what’s best for Cormyr, and if that means telling the crown princess she can’t have a royal temple to play with, then I will!”

  “To ‘play with?’” Vangerdahast rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’m talking about. She’s not a little girl, Majesty. She’s a thirty-six year old princess who needs a suitable husband-and fast.”

  “I don’t like this, Azoun.” Filfaeril turned from the fireplace and started across the room, toward the door that led to their suite of rooms. “What does a wizard know about raising children? I understand my daughter. She doesn’t want to be queen, and I say we don’t make her. Alusair is a year younger anyway.”

  “Alusair?” Vangerdahast gasped, finally losing control of himself. “And who is going to make her be queen? She doesn’t want it at all, and I couldn’t even begin to address her problems.”

  “Vangerdahast’s right about that, I’m afraid.” Azoun was speaking to his wife’s departing back. “If we don’t want to make Tanalasta do it, it’s hardly fair to make Alusair do it either.”

  “Then perhaps you will have to father another heir, my husband, one that Vangerdahast can mold into a proper monarch.” Filfaeril’s voice was as icy as her glare. “But I fear you will need a younger queen for that. One a decade the junior of your daughters, so you can be certain of the matter.”

  Filfaeril turned and pulled the door shut behind her.

  Azoun sighed and sank into the chair she had vacated, then tossed his crown onto the floor and began to rub his forehead.

  “Vangerdahast, please tell me that you have some idea what you’re doing here.”

  “Of course, Sire. You may recall that I helped guide you through-“

  The wizard was interrupted by nervous rapping at the door, then Alaphondar Emmarask poked his head into the chamber. His long white hair was more disheveled than usual, and the expression on his face was atypically frazzled.

  “Pray excuse my interruption, Sire, but a rather spontaneous flood of high priests seems to be, well, appearing in the Marliir courtyard.”

  “No doubt offering to establish Royal Temples of their own,” Azoun surmised.

  The Sage Most Learned glanced at the floor. “I would say they are doing rather more than offering.”

  “And so it starts.” The king exhaled heavily, then snatched his crown off the floor. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, sire. Merula the Marvelous begs leave to consult with Vangerdahast regarding the hazard that will be caused by a subversion of the War Wizards in favor of a religious-“

  “Tell Merula I will speak with him later,” interrupted Vangerdahast, “and assure him the War Wizards’ influence is not threatened.”

  Azoun glanced at Vangerdahast from the corner of his eye. “Quite sure of ourselves, aren’t we?”

  “Quite,” the wizard replied, voicing more conviction than he felt.

  The Sage Most Learned still did not leave.

  “Something else?” Azoun asked.

  “I’m afraid so, Majesty. Duke Marliir is demanding an audience,” said Alaphondar. “He’s angry about being asked to host a party so Princess Tanalasta could announce she would not be marrying his son.”

  “Of course. Show him in.” Azoun sighed heavily, twirling the crown on his fingers, then looked up at Vangerdahast. “Lord Magician, by the time we finish today, I am sure you will have a plan for untangling this brilliant mess you’ve made.”

  “Of course, Sire.” Vangerdahast took the crown, then placed it on Azoun’s head at an angle just jaunty enough to make it appear the king had been celebrating his birthday a little too hard. “Whatever you command.”

  The stables smelled of straw and leather and predawn dew, and of the many other joys of honest labor that had remained so carefully hidden from Tanalasta throughout much of her life. She would miss the odor of toil when she returned to Suzail, but at least she would know where to find it again when the palace’s bouquet of perfume and prevarication grew overwhelming. Tanalasta slipped the breast collar over the mule’s neck, then buckled it into place and passed the reins to Harvestmaster Foley, sitting above her on the driver’s bench. The rest of the priests were
kneeling in the wagon cargo bed with their tools and gear, eager for the day’s work to begin.

  The crunch of approaching feet sounded from the stable yard outside. Tanalasta turned to see her parents advancing through the early morning gloom, Vangerdahast and the usual entourage of guards in tow. Though the sun would he up in less than half an hour their eyelids remained heavy with sleep and their hair uncombed.

  “The king and queen,” Owden gasped, “and they don’t look happy.”

  “I wouldn’t read much into their appearance,” Tanalasta said. “It’s not the palace’s custom to rise before the sun.” Not so long ago, Tanalasta too would have regarded a predawn rising as an interruption of the choicest pillow time. “I’m sure Vangerdahast spent the night bending their ears about the royal temple.”

  A distressed look came to Owden’s face, but Tanalasta gave him a reassuring smile and went outside to meet her parents.

  “Your Majesties, I did not expect to see you up so early.”

  “No? Then you were hoping to sneak out under cover of darkness?”

  The king made his query sound like a joke, but there was a bitter edge to the question, and Tanalasta could sense the schism between her parents and the royal magician. Though the trio was normally close-knit, Azoun and Vangey barely looked at each other, and her mother stood a little apart from both of them. Tanalasta curtsied, acknowledging the irritation in her father’s tone.

  “It is the custom of Chauntea’s folk to start early.” As Tanalasta spoke, the royal guards formed a small circle around the group, lest any of the Marliir stable boys scurrying through the gray morning pause to eavesdrop. “We have had disturbing news from Tyrluk. The blight has broken out in ten places around the village, and the crop was already half lost before the messenger left town.”

  Owden Foley stepped gingerly past a guard to come up beside Tanalasta. “At that rate, Majesty, every field between the High Road and the Storm Horns will be a total loss within the tenday.”

  “That is why we keep the royal granaries full.” Azoun ignored the Harvestmaster and continued to focus on Tanalasta. “We have not seen the princess in over a year. I would really rather she didn’t run off-“