The gentle rhythm of the rain on the tent's roof and sides was interrupted by a sharp wind, then the steady, soothing noise continued. Stroking his beard, which he believed was grayer now than when he'd received the letter from Torg four months past, King Azoun sighed. He stared at the jumble of words on the yellowed parchment before him for a moment, then sighed again. When he looked up, the king saw that both Thom Reaverson and Vangerdahast were deeply absorbed in their own work. The wizard was seated in a corner, under the glow of a lantern, while the bard sat directly across the table from Azoun. The lanterns did little to augment the weak daylight bleeding through the tent from the cloudy day outside.
"Are you sure there's no spell you can cast that will allow me to learn to speak Tuigan?" the king asked.
Vangerdahast looked up. "Eh?" he said wearily. A long scroll slid from his hands onto the tent's canvas floor. "No, Azoun, there's not. There's a spell that will allow me to speak with them, but that's all I can do. Actually, that should be enough. I can be a capable negotiator if the need arises."
A rather malicious smile crossed Azoun's lips, and he replied, "That's exactly why I'm trying to learn Tuigan-so the need won't arise."
Thom Reaverson stifled a chuckle. He glanced at Azoun, who was smiling, too, then returned his attention to the paper in front of him. Like Azoun, the bard-historian was reviewing a list of common Tuigan phrases, greetings and the like. The foreign words were rendered in Common, spelled phonetically so any westerner could learn them. Both he and Azoun were studying the language in the unlikely event that a diplomatic meeting could be arranged with Yamun Khahan and Vangerdahast's spells didn't work.
Noting the scowl that was slowly spreading over the wizard's wrinkled face, Azoun apologized. "Sorry to interrupt your work, Vangy. I didn't realize you were so wrapped up in those spells lists. I hope you're having more success than I am."
The royal magician rubbed his red eyes. "I should certainly hope so," he mumbled. He pushed the papers spread at his feet into a neat pile, then bent over and reached for the scroll on the floor. The wizard put his hand on his paunch and groaned slightly as he did so.
"This is not easy work," Vangerdahast noted when he'd recovered the scroll. "Each of the spellcasters in the army commands different spells. For the magic units to be of any use, I have to know their potential, know what incantation I can expect from each man and woman." He glanced at Thom, who was still slouched over the Tuigan vocabulary list. "And you, Master Bard. Are you finding the Tuigan tongue easier to glean than your king is?"
Tossing his black braid over his shoulder, the bard met Vangerdahast's gaze. "It's not that difficult," he said affably. He looked across the table at Azoun, who was watching him carefully. "Of course, I've had a little exposure to it before."
Azoun motioned to a thin, battered book that lay to his right on the table. "This was Thom's, remember? He'd read it-how many times?"
"Four," the bard answered.
"Four times," Azoun noted to Vangerdahast, holding up the appropriate number of fingers. "It's no wonder, he's picking this up faster than I am." The king reached for the book and opened it to a random page. "Does Lord Rayburton have much to say about the Tuigan themselves, or did he just take notes on their language?"
Straightening in his seat, Thom said, "His comments on their dress and the language notes he made are the only things of value. That's why I didn't bring the book to your attention earlier, milord. It's mostly filled with value judgments about the Tuigan's 'barbarism.'"
Azoun raised an eyebrow. "Does Rayburton depict the Tuigan as greater savages than the representative from Rashemen did during the council?"
"Yes, but what makes me doubt his word is the way he describes Shou Lung," the bard replied. "He calls the Shou savages, too, and we know that's not true."
Thom reached for the battered tome and searched for a specific illustration. "Still, Lord Rayburton was an adventurer-one of the first men to cross from the West to Shou Lung without magical aid," he explained as he leafed through the book. He paused and added, "There are some wonderful songs about him, I'll sing you one some time."
"The Tuigan," Vangerdahast prompted.
Thom found the page he was searching for and returned the book to Azoun. "Before Yamun Khahan, the steppe riders were only nomadic clans, far less organized than they are now. Still, from all I've heard, their basic culture has advanced little since Rayburton's time."
The illustration made Azoun gasp. There, in crude line drawings, was a depiction of a horsewarrior flaying a man alive. To the warrior's right, another soldier was slitting his horse's leg and drinking its blood. A line of sticks with heads impaled upon them served as a backdrop for the grisly scene. The king passed the book to the royal wizard, who only shrugged.
"Let's hope, for our emissaries' sake, that Rayburton and Fonjara Galth were exaggerating the Tuigan's cruelty," Vangerdahast noted as he stood and stretched.
The rain continued to beat a lulling rhythm on the canvas, a sound that was punctuated only by strong gusts of wind and the noise from the Alliance's camp. Azoun silently wondered if he had sent the envoys to their deaths. The thought pained him greatly, even though he knew that he and the whole crusading force were in great danger now.
The king and the Army of the Alliance had reached a suitable site for a camp along the Golden Way-as the frequently traveled trade route was called-three days earlier. The men had been exhausted after the slow, grueling march from Telflamm, so Azoun had let them rest for one day before he started drilling them. Trained soldiers and experienced mercenaries made up a portion of the army, so the generals didn't need to teach them how to march or handle a weapon. They did, however, need to break the soldiers into units of manageable size and make them familiar with the signals that would be used during the battle.
Any relief the men might have taken from a break in their march was mitigated by the news from the east. A steady stream of ragged refugees from Thesk had poured past the army all along their trek down the Golden Way. The hungry, exhausted farmers and wareless merchants told wildly varying stories. Some claimed that the Tuigan were bogged down in a battle far to the east, others cast nervous glances over their shoulders and said the horselords were only a day or so behind them. Soldiers from the broken armies of Thesk passed by, too. Some of them joined Azoun's forces. Most fled the plains for the relative safety of walled cities like Telflamm.
By the second day, Azoun had learned the true position of the Tuigan horde. A pair of scouts, Red Plumes from the city of Hillsfar, had dashed into the royal compound at the center of camp and blurted out a report. Tuigan scouts had been spotted to the east, not thirty miles from the Alliance's present position. Azoun had immediately contacted Alusair, but learned the dwarves were still at least two days away. The king then sent a pair of emissaries-a Cormyrian captain to assess the Tuigan's battle strength and a soldier from Thesk who could speak the horsewarriors' hard, guttural language-to meet with the barbarians.
Now, one day later, Azoun awaited word from these messengers and hoped the Tuigan would slow their advance long enough for Torg's troops to join the rest of the army.
A trumpet blast signaling the return of some scouts broke the reverie, in the tent. Vangerdahast stuffed his lists of spells into a polished leather pouch and slung it over his shoulder. "It must be getting close to eveningfeast," he said wearily. "I'm going back to my tent to make a few notes before we eat." The wizard nodded at Thom and added, "Keep him at the Tuigan lessons. I know from experience that he's a slacker when it comes to studying."
Thom laughed at the barb, for it was easy to see that the wizard's comment was only a jest. Azoun was renowned as a great scholar, and the bard's own presence at court, along with a number of sculptors, musicians, and other artists, testified to the king's love of the arts.