Not wishing to draw undue attention to the dragoneer’s internal struggle, Tanalasta looked away and ran her gaze down both sides of the table, taking care to linger on the faces of those nobles who had sided with Goldsword instead of her. When only loyal nobles dared meet her gaze, she decided the time had come to follow her mother’s approach and exert her authority.
“On the morrow, the crown will greet half the retainers of each noble house outside the Horngate,” she said. “They will come prepared for a long march, as they will be journeying north to join King Azoun. At noon, the crown will accept the magic items of each noble house into the Royal Palace for safekeeping and will welcome an additional quarter of each house’s retainers into the king’s service for the purpose of garrisoning various fortresses across the south. The last quarter of each house’s retainers will remain at their home estate for the purpose of securing the lives and property of the manor occupants. Is there any discussion?”
“Discussion?” scoffed Lady Calantar. “Do you really expect us to pretend we are agreeing to this willingly?”
Tanalasta turned toward Lady Calantar but looked past her, to the dragoneer standing guard behind her. “Lady Calantar is fostering treason. Take her outside and behead her.”
Lady Calantar’s eyes grew wide. “You can’t-“
Her protest was cut off as the dragoneer behind her clasped a mailed palm over her mouth and dragged her from her seat. He looked to Tanalasta and raised a querying eyebrow. When the princess nodded, he clenched his teeth and pulled the noblewoman off the bench.
As the soldier dragged her out the door, Roland Emmarask turned to Tanalasta, “If a loyal lord may be so bold as to ask-you truly can’t intend to behead Lady Calantar.”
“Of course I can,” Tanalasta replied evenly. “How would you expect King Azoun to deal with a traitor?”
Faces around the table began to go white. Emmarask, who had once spent a few pleasant months courting Lady Calantar before his parents decided the match would not be a good one for the family, continued to press the matter.
“Certainly, no one can argue that execution is an unjust punishment for a traitor, but Lady Calantar can hardly be considered that.” Emmarask cast a meaningful glance in Goldsword’s direction. “Not when those who have said far worse go unpunished.”
“Perhaps you did not hear Queen Filfaeril,” Tanalasta said, regarding the lord coldly. “The crown has no interest in punishing those who have spoken against us out of love for Cormyr. We respect their courage, if not their wisdom.” She cast her gaze in Melot Silversword’s direction. “The true traitors are those who would risk nothing in the matter, the self-serving ones who remain silent until it grows clear who will win and how best to turn that victory to their own advantage.”
Silversword’s heavy jowls began to quiver. “I assure you, the Silverswords are interested in Cormyr’s advantage only.”
“Good.” Tanalasta searched the faces of other lords for any further hint of defiance. Finding none, she decided the time had come to reaffirm her victory. She glared directly at Emlar Goldsword, then asked, “Is there any more discussion?”
Goldsword shook his head. “My retainers will be there as decreed. May the gods bless the crown.”
“I will be happy if they only favor Cormyr, though we thank you for the thought.” Tanalasta glanced around the table once more. When everyone looked away, she smiled and said, “The crown is most grateful for your support. To show its appreciation, you are all invited to guest at the Royal Palace until such times as your retainers arrive and are dispatched to their new assignments. Your escorts will show you to your rooms and provide messengers for your orders. We will see you for the evening meal.”
If any of the lords found the invitation less than gracious, they were wise enough not to say so. They simply stood and thanked the princess for her hospitality, then turned to follow their escorts out the refectory door.
Orvendel expressed his thanks without meeting Tanalasta’s eyes, then turned to follow the others… and found himself staring at his brother’s broad chest.
“Princess Tanalasta asked you to stay behind.” Korvarr pushed the boy back to his bench. “Or did you forget?”
“No, no… I…” Unable to meet his brother’s eyes, Orvendel spun toward Tanalasta. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“I think you do,” said Tanalasta. “And please stop lying. There is nothing I hate more than a man who makes a fool of me.”
28
“I grow tired of running,” the King of Cormyr growled as the familiar howling began again, down a hillside to their right. Alusair waved a wordless hand-signal to the nearest bowmen to stand and fire.
It was goblins this time, streaming down the slope in a torrent, waving their blades and yammering for blood. Human blood.
“Is it time to turn and fight?” Alusair replied, turning in her saddle to give her father a dangerous look that added the words “I would” to her words as loudly as if she’d shouted it.
“You would, aye,” Azoun returned, spurring his horse forward, “thinking only of yourself. If I turn and take a stand I risk all our lives, the crown, and the stability of the kingdom. With all these nobles foaming for the throne like stallions given a chance at a ready mare, and all our farmers and commoners between here and the sea, if we fall who’s to stop these vermin from pillaging all Cormyr?”
“Gods, with all those cares it’s a wonder that horse can carry you!” Alusair snapped back. “You’re right. I did mean to risk only myself and the blades who ride with me. The rabble of nobles you so dismiss as eager traitors, remember? What loss to the realm if they fall?”
Azoun leaned over in his saddle until their faces almost met, and muttered, “If I lose my Alusair, I lose my hope for Cormyr’s future-and the best general in the realm. And yes, I am measuring you against Ilnbright, Taroaster, and me. You’re the best of us, and more than that you’re the one commoners and Purple Dragons alike look up to, with love.”
Alusair went white, and almost snarled, “They love you, too, father!”
Azoun nodded, but replied, “A different love. I am the ‘now,’ with all the feuds and disputes and annoyances they know. You are the future that shines ahead. You they’ll follow to death with hearts full of hope. Me, they’ll go down with grimly, doing their duty.”
Alusair bent her head over her saddle for a moment, then looked up and met her father’s eyes squarely.
“I never thought I’d hear a man be so honest,” she almost whispered. “I am honored beyond belief that the man is my father and that he gives such honesty to me.” Then her eyes caught a movement to the south, her head snapped in that direction, her face changed, and she added, “Rider-messenger, come to meet us.”
She raised her hand to make another signal, but Swordlord Glammerhand was already sending two kadrathen of Purple Dragons through the ranks of the bowmen to cut down the last of the goblins and sounding the horn that would bring the bowmen back to a steady march.
The envoy proved to be no excited young soldier or war wizard cloaked in his own importance, but one of the veteran King’s Messengers from the palace. He was a sleek man, Bayruce by name, known well to both king and princess.
He bowed his head formally as he brought his horse to a weary walk, and said, “From Queen Filfaeril, glad greeting and good news. The crown princess prevails at court, and our loyal nobles whelm many swords in good array, north to meet with you and fight for you. Such is the whole of my message.”
Azoun inclined his head in formal thanks and asked, “So, Bayruce, if we were but two carters in a tavern over tankards and I asked you, ‘Pray, how many of our nobles be loyal to the crown enough to whelm swords for war?’ how would you answer?”