Vangerdahast tipped his head. “As you command, Princess.”
They reached the ravine bottom and crossed a mat of mossy grass to the water’s edge, then tested its temperature with their fingers before mounting and riding across. On the far side, they followed the scarlet brook up a small, gently-sloping vale. Though no vegetation grew within two paces of the creek, a luxuriant growth of grass covered the walls of the valley, and the stench changed from brimstone-and-iron to just iron. Once Tanalasta grew accustomed to the odor and no longer associated it with blood, she actually found the smell tolerable.
At length, they reached the end of the valley, where the brook spilled over a rocky headwall from a steaming basin above. When no sentries emerged to greet or challenge them, they tethered their horses to a wild mulberry tree and crept the rest of the way on foot, mindful of the possibility that an orc tribe-or something worse-had forced Alusair to abandon the rendezvous. They found nothing but a small pool of blood-colored water, ringed on all sides by a boulder-strewn collar of green grass and low cliffs of rusty red basalt.
“This is Orc’s Pool?” Tanalasta asked.
“Of course. How many red pools do you think there are in the Stonelands?”
Tanalasta frowned. “Now that you mention it, Gaspaeril Gofar’s treatise mentioned over sixty bodies of iron-tinted water.”
“This is the one,” Vangerdahast said. “I recognize it.”
The wizard clambered over the headwall and led the way toward a ring of boulders on the southern shore of the pool. As they crossed the meadow, Tanalasta noticed a single square yard of freshly-turned ground. Leaving Vangerdahast to continue on his own, she stopped to examine it. The stones had been carefully removed from the dirt and piled along the edges, and there was a small dimple in the center where the soil had been wetted by a cupful of water.
From up ahead, Vangerdahast called, “They’re here-at least someone is.”
Tanalasta went to join the wizard at the circle of stones. As she approached, she smelled a familiar haylike odor and saw the broom of a horse’s tail swing out from behind a boulder.
“Alusair?” she called.
“I don’t think so,” answered Vangerdahast.
Tanalasta stepped around the boulder to find a hidden, well-used camp large enough to accommodate a company of twenty people. At the present time, there was only a tethered horse and Vangerdahast, seated on the saddle that had been taken from the beast’s back. A pair of dusty boots sat on the ground next to him, and he was going through the pockets of a tunic and breeches that had been left beside a neatly folded traveling cape.
“Vangerdahast, what do you think you’re doing?” Tanalasta demanded.
“Trying to find out who this belongs to,” the wizard replied, “and whether or not he’s one of Alusair’s boys.”
“He is.”
The voice came from behind Tanalasta, so close that it made her scream and leap into the air. She came down facing the speaker, clutching a sharp stone she had been carrying in lieu of her magic dagger. The man was naked and wet, with shoulder-length hair and skin still flushed from the heat of the pool, and he didn’t look half-bad. In fact, he looked more than half-good, with dark hair and darker eyes, chiseled features, and a proud chin with just a hint of a cleft. He had shoulders as broad as a door, arms the size of Tanalasta’s thighs, not even a hint of a belly, and… she blushed, for it was not every day that a princess saw such sights.
“Your Highness, forgive me!” The man sounded mortified. Still holding his sword and scabbard, he lowered his hands and covered himself. “I wasn’t expecting you with the stonemurk today, and I was availing myself of the water when I heard someone approaching.”
When Tanalasta did not reply, the man tried to slip past. “I do beg your forgiveness, Princess, but we’ve lost a few men on this journey, and I had to be cautious.”
It finally dawned on Tanalasta that she was staring. “On my honor!” The princess let the stone drop from her hand and turned away, her face burning as though she were the one who had just climbed from the pool’s steaming waters. “P-please, think no more of it.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Tanalasta saw Vangerdahast smile.
“Well then, maybe this trip was worth it after all,” said the wizard. He passed the man his clothes. “And who might you be, son?”
“My name is Rowen,” the man said. Tanalasta heard the snap of pant legs being flapped open. “Rowen Cormaeril.”
Tanalasta felt the blood rush from her cheeks even more quickly than it had rushed into them. She turned, slowly, to find the man now standing in tunic and breeches.
“Of… of relation to Gaspar Cormaeril?” she asked.
Rowen nodded. “Gaspar was my cousin, and as great a traitor to our family as he was to the realm.”
Tanalasta’s heart fell. Along with Aunadar Bleth, Gaspar Cormaeril had been one of the ringleaders in the Abraxus Affair. As punishment for his prominent role, her father had seized the lands of the entire Cormaeril family.
When Tanalasta could not find the words to express her dismay, Rowen bowed deeply and did not rise. “I apologize for vexing you with my presence, Majesty. Had it been possible, I’m certain the Princess Alusair would have sent someone else.”
“I doubt it,” growled Vangerdahast. The wizard looked to Tanalasta and shook his head. “She couldn’t have been happy to hear from you. This is her way of showing it.”
“Must you always think the worst of people, Lord Magician?” Tanalasta went over to Rowen. “I’m sure she sent Sir Rowen because she knew him to be the best man for the job.”
The princess presented her hand to Rowen, who was so startled that he looked up and did not take it. She smiled and nodded, holding it in place. Somewhat reluctantly, he took her hand by the fingers and brushed his lips to the back.
“Only Rowen, Majesty,” he said. “My title was taken with the family lands.”
“Just Rowen, then.” Tanalasta noticed Vangerdahast rolling his eyes and shot him a frown, then gestured for Rowen to rise. “Tell me, Rowen, is that your Faith Planting I noticed at the edge of the meadow?”
Rowen’s eyes grew as round as coins. “Yes, Majesty, it is-but I’m surprised you know that. I didn’t think anyone but Children of Chauntea would recognize it.”
Tanalasta smiled. “They wouldn’t-and please, don’t call me Majesty. Tanalasta will do.”
Vangerdahast hoisted himself to his feet. “By the Blue Dragon!” he cursed. “Alusair sends us a groundsplitter!”
8
The cabbage had already started to go, the big leaves curling and turning brown along the edges, the immature heads wilting open. A tall beggar in a ragged cape was striding across the field diagonally, paying no heed to the angry free farmer hurling insults and dirt clods in his direction. In the dusky light, the intruder was a mere silhouette half again as tall as a man, with a lurching gait and beady red eyes just bright enough to be seen beneath his billowing hood.
“That’s the signal,” Azoun whispered. “He has them.”
“Well done, Sire,” said Dauneth Marliir. “It will be good to be done with these rabble.”
“They’re hardly rabble, Lord Warden.” Azoun eased his horse into the shadows beneath a young ash. “They’re trying to help.”
“Yes, but help whom?” Dauneth followed him into the shadows. “I am sure it has occurred to His Majesty that they might be spreading this alarm purposely, to win support for their royal temple. And I must say it’s working. As matters stand now, the blight could spoil half the fields in the realm and the peasants would still hold these seed fingers as heroes.”
A dozen riders burst from the woods on the other side of the field and started across at a full gallop, yelling promises of restitution as they passed. The beggar, now only a few paces from the ambush site, paid his pursuers no attention and continued forward at the same even stride.