“But why all of this?” Rhauligan protested, waving his hands. One of them held a tankard, but as far as Dauneth could tell, the merchant had emptied it already. “We’ve all heard about the suit of armor that can heal and purify the man who sleeps in it and the spells that can grow new kings from a few pieces of the flesh of old ones.”
“New kings for old!” Tessara called softly, grinning. “New kings for old!”
“Stow it,” Rhauligan told her, not unkindly, and continued. “There are said to be thick-piled webs of safeguard spells on all senior Obarskyrs and heirs, as well as on the palace and the court and the royal hunting lodges and houses… and outback privies, for all I know! Have they all failed at once?”
“If a traitor among the wizards worked carefully to avoid detection,” Tessara said gently, “I’d be surprised if magic that is done could not also be undone.” Turlstars nodded grimly.
“I’ve heard,” put in Darvae, “that Lady Laspeera and some of the other war wizards started searching the vaults under the palace for a cure, but Princess Tanalasta had them turned out and ordered the under-cellars sealed.”
“Seems as though she wants dear daddy to die,” Tessara muttered.
Darvae spread his hands in a what-do-I-know gesture. “She said what struck down the king may have come from there, and it was best that such perils stay shut away until ‘the realm is out of danger.’ She must know what the vaults hold better than any of us.”
“The Doom of the Obarskyrs,” the caravan master intoned somberly. “The armories of the war wizards, full of stolen spells and locked lich tomes and strange things that flash and whir about but haven’t yet been probed for their secrets. Iron statues that walk. The Cursed Crowns. The meeting room of the Sword Heralds. The-“
“Lost Wyvern of Menacha. Yes, yes, and the stuffed remains of the Obarskyrs’ adversaries,” Turlstars said dismissively. “We’ve all heard the legends, and they’re just more flying fancy. I suspect that a lot of the talk I’m hearing around Suzail is the stuff of dreams, too… but we may as well wade through it…”
“Especially as some of it is really rich,” Darvae agreed with a grin. “Would you believe that Gondegal the Lost King has been seen in Marsember?”
“High Horn, I heard,” Tessara said quickly. “And he’s behind all this!”
“He and a hitherto unknown descendant of evil Prince Regent Salember!” Onszibar put in.
“What?” Turlstars asked sarcastically. “Not Salember himself?”
“Well,” Tessara said, leaning forward to speak in low, urgent tones, “you may all laugh about wild rumors, but I was told by a friend I trust well that Lady Laspeera of the war wizards-second in rank of them all, after Vangerdahast himself-has disappeared. Some in the palace are saying she may have been entombed alive in the palace vaults when the Purple Dragons sealed them, at the command of the princess.”
“That may just be true,” Turlstars said thoughtfully, but Darvae made a rude sound of disagreement.
“I doubt soldiers as busy as they are right now could find the time to seal off all the ways a wizard might find to get out of a cellar,” Darvae pronounced.
“Busy?” Rhauligan pounced.
The cloth merchant grinned wryly. “They’re saying down the Promenade that there’s a private war going on between Purple Dragons loyal to Tanalasta and those cleaving to the old wizard, Vangerdahast. Most of the court officials, like the sages Dimswart and Alaphondar, are supporting the wizard, but one wing of the palace is supposed to be awash in blood… entire hallways choked with armor-clad corpses.”
“Some folk have vivid imaginations,” Tessara murmured. “I heard that Alaphondar the sage was slain defending the queen from assassins, and the queen lies on her deathbed mere feet from her husband.”
“But that’s Just it!” protested Onszibar. “What do we know to help us sort out the fancy from what’s actually going on in the palace? What do we really know?”
Gormon Turlstars nodded, saying heavily, “On the way here I heard two nobles discussing where to hide. They think someone is stabbing all the nobles who dare to go to see Tanalasta and leaving them to die in the palace or to crawl out!”
Darvae nodded. “I heard that, too. It seems one made it as far as the royal gardens yesterday before collapsing.”
“I can crown all,” Rhauligan said grandly, holding up a hand for attention. “A guard in the palace who’s been stationed close to the dying king says that the priests have been defeated by whatever ails him, and that they plan to keep our Azoun on the throne by using dark magic to make him undead!”
Turlstars snorted. “Even if you believed the priests could agree with each other to do that, do you think the people would stand for it?”
“Would they accept a regency where Vangerdahast rules, after marrying Queen Filfaeril?” Tessara asked. “I’ve heard that rumor several times.”
“Yes, yes,” Turlstars said disgustedly. “And the Purple Dragons, the war wizards, and the nobles are all planning to seize the throne. Red Wizards and Zhentarim have been seen openly walking the Promenade-“
“Well, they have!” Rhauligan said sharply. “I myself saw a man I know to be a Zhent mageling! I’ve heard that a man walking north of the court, near the royal gardens, was seen to change shape! If that isn’t the work of a wizard…”
Tessara sighed. “So the realm is falling apart as we watch, and loyal Vangerdahast is to blame, either because he’s causing it-“
“Or he’s not stopping it,” Turlstars agreed heavily.
Dauneth had been sitting silent behind his tankard, listening with growing horror… and then, slowly, a rising anger. How cynical these folk were-all of them! Did the king’s life mean nothing? Did they believe no word spoken by anyone of the court? He saw again Azoun laughing in his saddle, arms spread wide, and heard a voice saying angrily, “From where I come from, the word ‘loyal’ is not an empty joke. The crown is worth upholding, worth fighting for. It is what makes us better than the money-grubbing Sembians or the savages of Tunland. Have a care for your words, for I will fight to see that King Azoun’s name remains unsullied!”
The young noble blinked. They were all staring at him. He had half risen from his seat. It seemed that the angry voice had been his own.
“Ah,” he said in some confusion, noting that even Glarasteer Rhauligan was gaping at him, and sat down again. “What I mean to say is that Lord Vangerdahast is older than the mountains. Why would he be a traitor? It sounds to me like he’s just trying to keep the court running until the king is well again.”
Tessara’s dark eyes narrowed. “That’s a peculiar way for a Marliir to talk-supporting the crown.”
“What do you mean?” Dauneth asked softly, feeling a trembling rage surging up in him. Without thinking, his hand reached for his blade.
His fingers met the cold edge of a drawn sword, blocking his way to his own scabbard. Tessara’s eyes were as wintry as the steel under his fingertips as she said, “Does your family not speak of such things as their war with King Dhalmass? Or the Prince Regent Salember? Or do they prefer not to deal with past defeats?”
“I-” Dauneth began hotly, and then fell silent because he realized he had nothing to say. His family didn’t speak of such matters, and this woman looked as if she knew exactly what she was talking about… as well as how to handle a sword. He’d not even seen her draw the blade that she was now slowly pulling back, tip lifted a little to catch his gaze as a warning. He looked past it and into her eyes, and suddenly he thought how beautiful she looked, hard and confident, and…
He knew be was blushing again and managed to say, “Lady, I meant no offense to anyone here. I was simply shocked by the way all of you-“
“Spoke lightly of the realm?” Rhauligan said roughly. “Lad, that doesn’t mean we don’t love it!”
The short silence that followed his words was broken by a drawl from Darvae. “Well, it seems the young high-boots is a panther, after all.”
Someone started to laugh, but fell silent. The entire Snout Room joined in the sudden, tense stillness.