Vangerdahast looked away, preparing himself for a distasteful task. “I hope the princess will forgive me. I was only trying to put the boy at ease.”
“His name is Rowen,” said Tanalasta.
“Please, if the Royal Magician wants to call me a boy, I won’t be offended,” said Rowen. “To tell you the truth, it’s been so many years since I’ve been called that I find it funny.”
“Then I am happy to make you laugh, Rowen,” said Tanalasta. “From henceforth, the Royal Magician may address us as ‘boy’ and ‘girl,’ and we will call him ‘grandfather.’”
“I am sure the royal court will find your decision most amusing,” Vangerdahast replied, finding himself grinding his teeth. As trustworthy as Rowen might be, Vangerdahast could not have the princess falling in love with a Cormaeril. After the Abraxus Affair, that would be tantamount to bedding a Sembian. “If we are done making young Cormaeril laugh, perhaps he could tell us about Emperel?”
Rowen looked to Tanalasta, and when she nodded, began. “There really isn’t much to tell. We picked up his trail a few miles east of Halfhap and followed him across the Stonebolt Trail toward Shouk’s Ambush, then he suddenly found someone else’s trail and followed it south to a tomb in the foothills.”
“A tomb?” Vangerdahast asked.
“How old?” Tanalasta asked. “What type?”
“It was very old, Milady,” said Rowen. “As for the type-I’m no expert on such things. It was set beneath the roots of a great twisted oak, black of bark and so filled with rot that it’s a wonder the thing was still standing. There were old glyphs carved into the trunk such as I have never seen.”
“Glyphs?” Tanalasta asked, growing excited. “Were they Elvish?”
Rowen shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. They were very sinuous and graceful.”
Tanalasta said, “They sound Elvish.”
“As does the tomb,” Vangerdahast agreed.
“You’re thinking Tree of the Body…”
“But twisted and black?”
Rowen’s head pivoted back and forth between his escorts, not quite keeping pace with the exchange.
“Twisted and black,” said Tanalasta. “Yes, that is interesting.”
“No elf would sprout such a thing, and if it’s rotting…”
“There are evil elves.”
“True, but drow grow mushrooms, not trees,” Vangerdahast said. “And they live underground.”
“I’m talking about wood elves, not drow. Don’t you recall the Year of Distant Thunder?”
Rowen turned to Tanalasta and said, “If I may-“
“The Bleth family, of course,” said Vangerdahast, cutting the cad off, “but Mondar was in the wrong there.”
“They could have told him that before they killed his whole family,” Tanalasta said. “It was a massacre-an elven massacre.”
“Excuse me!” Rowen said, raising his voice loud enough to be heard. “But I am sorry to disappoint you. The elves have nothing to do with this tomb.”
Vangerdahast and Tanalasta both frowned, then asked together, “You’re sure?”
“We found some garish old rings, a silver hair comb,” said Rowen, “and a lady’s stiletto hidden in the handle of a brass fan.”
Tanalasta raised her brow. “That’s certainly not elven.”
“Nor were the vambraces in the next tomb,” said Rowen.
“The next tomb?” Vangerdahast gasped. “There were two?”
Rowen shook his head. “Three… so far, all opened. Emperel followed whoever he was tracking to each of them. We think that’s where be ran into the ghazneth.”
Vangerdahast and Tanalasta fell silent, trying in their own ways to make sense of what the ranger was telling them. The tombs Rowen described did not belong to the Sleeping Sword. Vangerdahast visited that cavern periodically to inspect its condition and renew the stasis spell that kept the young lords in suspended animation, and he knew for a fact there was not a tree within two miles of it.
“These tombs,” Tanalasta said. “Were they all similar?”
“Some seemed older than others,” said Rowen. “Or at least the trees were larger, and they had the same glyphs carved into the trunks. But the things we found in. each one were different. In the last one, it was a war wizards’ throat clasp.”
The ranger gestured to the unfastened clasps at the throats of his two companions.
Vangerdahast raised his brow. “I don’t suppose you have that clasp with you?”
“Sorry. Princess Alusair said-“
“I can imagine what she said,” Vangerdahast replied.
“Quiet!” Tanalasta hissed.
The princess guided her horse over in front of her companions, forcing them to a stop. Vangerdahast’s eyes went instantly to the sky and his hand to his throat clasp. If the ghazneth had found them anyway…
Tanalasta’s shadowy hand reached out to catch him by the arm. “Orcs,” she whispered.
Vangerdahast almost sighed in relief, then realized it would be impossible to scatter the orcs without using magic and alerting the ghazneth to their location. He scanned the gully slopes, already plotting a devastating sequence of fire spells. If Tanalasta could see the swiners, then the swiners could see her. Orc eyes were so sensitive they could see a creature’s body heat in the dark.
When Vangerdahast detected no sign of the creatures, he asked, “Where?”
“I don’t know,” Tanalasta replied. “I smell them.”
“Smell them?” Vangerdahast hissed. “If they were close enough to smell, we’d be dead by now.”
“If we were relying on your nose, yes,” whispered Rowen, “but Tanalasta has taken a bath. She can smell something other than herself.”
The ranger dismounted and scraped a fistful of dirt from the gully floor, letting it pour from his hand. Once he had determined that the breeze was blowing across the gully, he led Vangerdahast and Tanalasta over to the windward side of the ravine and motioned for them to dismount. The trio spent the next half hour stumbling along in the shadows without seeing any sign of the orcs. Vangerdahast was about to insist that they mount again when a distant clatter began to echo up the gulch behind them. They paused to listen until the orcs had passed, then returned to their saddles and continued up the gully.
The companions remained silent for another half hour, until they reached the head of the gulch and ascended onto the moonlit expanse of the Gnoll Flats. Despite Rowen’s earlier warning, the stonemurk was not bad-at least not compared to the plains closer to the Stonebolt Trail-and Vangerdahast could barely see the dark wall of the Storm Horns in the far distance. Try as he might, he could find no peaks that reminded him of mule ears.
They stayed close to the edge of the flats, ready to duck down the nearest ravine at the first sign of orcs or the ghazneth. After the sheltering confines of the gully, the empty expanses made Vangerdahast feel exposed and cranky, and only the thought of crossing the barrens in full daylight prevented him from suggesting they make camp in the shelter of one of the many ravines they were passing.
If the lack of cover made Tanalasta or Rowen nervous, they did not show it. The pair rode side-by-side for the rest of the night, their legs almost touching. Despite his weariness and petulant mood, Vangerdahast found he did not have the heart to intrude on the moment-not even for the good of the realm. Clearly, the ranger respected the princess for her knowledge and talent, and she seemed to return that respect with genuine fondness. Outside of Alaphondar and her own family, Tanalasta had experienced little enough of either in the palace. If she had found it in the Stonelands with Rowen Cormaeril, then the royal magician could put Cormyr’s interests aside for a few hours. Despite the trouble she was causing him, Vangerdahast loved the princess like a daughter, and he wanted to see her as happy as it was possible for a queen to be.
Vangerdahast could never let them marry, of course. Allowing the child of a Cormaeril to ascend to the throne would insult the families who had stayed loyal during the Abraxus Affair, and invite mischief from those who had wavered, but marriage was not the only trail to carnal happiness. If their fondness continued to grow, perhaps he could talk to Tanalasta about working out a discreet arrangement. He had certainly done the same thing often enough for Azoun, and it might provide just the leverage he needed to disabuse her of this royal temple nonsense.