As this duo spoke their prayers, a pair of small trees sprouted from the first two kettles and began to grow before the eyes of the astonished crowd. Another team of priests ascended the rostrum and placed their pots on the third stair, and so it continued until a pair of pots had been placed on every step. The trees blossomed as they grew, drawing gasps of wonder and delight from everyone in the room save Vangerdahast, who regarded the whole display with an air of wary impatience.
The last blossoms had barely appeared before the limbs of the first trees began to grow heavy with fruit. Smiling in delight, the king descended three steps and plucked a pear from the branch, then bit into it with relish.
“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.”