Noting the look of concern on his daughter's face, the king asked, "Does that bother you?"
Alusair considered how to form her concern, how to put it into words. Finally, she adopted the most direct approach; though rather blunt, it seemed the most accurate. "It seems like we're lying."
The reply didn't surprise Azoun. In fact, ever since he had allowed the rumors about the Tuigan and his "escape" from their camp to circulate, he'd been troubled by that same thought. After all, those rumors had been partly to blame for the disastrous cavalry charge in the last Tuigan encounter. Azoun had come to no conclusions, however, so he simply didn't know how to respond to Alusair's comment.
Father and daughter remained silent for a time. Alusair knew the king well enough to realize that he was wrestling with the problem, not ignoring it. They'd spent many hours in Azoun's study in Cormyr embroiled in similar debates, and the pattern was always the same: in the course of a discussion, Alusair would pose a particularly challenging question. Rather than toss off a quick reply or dismiss the problem, the king would consider the issue, pacing back and forth, occasionally glancing at a book or two.
The scenery around Alusair and Azoun now had little in common with that study. As they walked, they passed the groups of archers preparing palisades. Many of the soldiers were finished chopping points onto the poles, and some were even setting the eight- to ten-foot-long spikes into the ground. Alusair had never been in a cavalry charge that had been forced to face that kind of defense, but she was certain that it must be terrifying to break against a line, only to find huge sharpened stakes braced in the ground, leveled at you or your mount. She shivered and dismissed the grisly thought.
After a time, in which Azoun distractedly returned the bows and greetings of his troops, the king and his daughter looked away from the line of palisades and moved back toward the Golden Way. The sun was beginning to sink in the west, and a few of the Alliance's commanders had already gathered in the road for their meeting.
"I don't lie when I encourage the troops, for I believe that they-that we can actually win," the king replied at last. He stopped and looked back at the soldiers toiling away, some setting spikes, others placing small barricades before the first rank. "I have my doubts, but it isn't my place to share those with the soldiers. They need a leader, not a doomsayer."
Alusair paused for a moment. "Farl told me about Lord Harcourt," she began. The pain that registered on the king's face at the mention of the cavalry charge made the princess regret bringing up the subject. "This isn't the time-" she added quickly.
"If not now, when?" the king replied, a bit too sharply. He spun around as swiftly as his wounded leg would allow and headed toward the meeting. "I don't know what to say about Harcourt and the nobles," he admitted as he trudged along.
"Perhaps you shouldn't have let the rumors about the Tuigan circulate," Alusair offered bluntly.
Alusair wasn't saying anything that Azoun's conscience hadn't suggested to him over and over already. When he told his daughter this, she nodded. Then it was her turn to be silent. For a moment, it seemed that the conversation would end there.
When he stepped onto the road, however, Azoun put his hand on his daughter's arm. "When you were in command of the army last night, how did you make your decisions?" he asked.
"I did what I thought was right."
Azoun nodded. The reply was exactly what he'd expected. "That was how I decided to let the rumors about my deeds in the Tuigan camp circulate. From the counsel I received, I concluded that the army would be far better off if I didn't dash their enthusiasm."
"Then you didn't take the most important counselor into consideration," the princess said. She pointed at the king's chest. "You didn't listen to your heart. You didn't do what your conscience told you was the right thing to do."
Azoun could feel the tension growing between him and Alusair. He took a deep breath and tried to respond as calmly as possible. "There are thousands of lives depending upon my decisions, Allie. You can't know-"
"Oh, but I can," she replied. "Before I knew you were well enough to take command again, I believed I would have to lead the army in the next battle. I felt the pressure."
Farl Bloodaxe bowed as he came close. Unlike many of the soldiers, the ebony-skinned commander had taken off his armor. He again wore the dark breeches and billowing white shirt that made him look more like a pirate than a general. "Excuse me, Your Highness, Princess, but the others have gathered as you requested. We await only your presence."
Azoun was almost relieved at the interruption. He and Alusair had closed the gap that had separated them for so long, but it was clear that many things still held them apart. "Thank you, Farl," the king said. "We'll be along in a moment."
As the general turned to go, the king remembered Farl's words the night before the first battle: The soldiers are here because of your beliefs, and the true crusaders will gladly die for the causes you champion… but never for a lie. Turning to his daughter, Azoun took her hand in his own. "Perhaps you're right, Allie," he sighed, squeezing her hand. "At the very least, you've given me something to think about."
They embraced briefly, which assured both of them that their argument had done little to set back their reconciliation, and went together to the meeting.
Azoun and Alusair found the three surviving generals-Farl, Brunthar, and, much to their surprise, Vangerdahast-as well as Torg and Vrakk, in animated discussion. The commanders sat on camp stools around a low-burning fire. Azoun greeted the royal wizard warmly, and more than anything, seeing his old friend again lightened his mood.
But Azoun quickly found that Vangerdahast had not fully recovered from the sickness that struck him down in the magic-dead area. The firelight revealed the mage's features, pushing away the shadows of the growing twilight, and the king saw that Vangerdahast was quite pale. A palsy shook the mage's left hand, too, but he tried to keep the quivering limb hidden in the sleeve of his long brown robe. When he noticed the king's concerned stare, Vangerdahast frowned.
"I was just telling the other generals," the wizard said crankily, "the magic-dead area seems to have erased the effects of the spells and potions I'd experimented with, the ones that kept me healthier than my eighty-odd years." His frown deepened into a scowl, and he pointed at the king with an age-spotted hand. "But that doesn't mean I'm unable to command the War Wizards."
"You're absolutely correct, Vangy," Azoun replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. While he didn't doubt that the royal wizard could easily keep the Alliance's mages in line, the revelation of Vangerdahast's present malady shocked him.
"We're wasting time, Your Highness," Torg grumbled. The dwarf looked as petulant as ever. Azoun guessed correctly that the mere presence of the orcs' commander was enough to upset the ironlord. The dwarf's position in the circle, on the opposite side of the fire from Vrakk, certainly reinforced that guess.
Torg's bigotry is the least of our worries now, the king concluded. Still, he smiled and nodded. "You are correct, Ironlord. The Tuigan won't dally so we can swap stories of the wounds we've gained in the fight so far."
Without ceremony, the king took a seat between Vangerdahast and the spot reserved for Alusair. Turning to Farl, he asked, "Have your scouts spotted any movement in the khahan's ranks yet?"
With a shrug, the infantry commander said, "No, Your Highness. They're still camped close to where the last battle took place, about twelve miles east of here."
"Nor have I spotted anything with the falcon," the princess added. "They seem to be waiting for us to commit to another battle."
"I don't understand it," Brunthar Elventree said. "Why didn't they run us down after the battle? They let us escape!"