“They’re out there, somewhere, braving danger-tasting adventure! While I-whom the king- the king! — wanted to accompany them-sit here, chafing in idleness!”
Narantha slammed down her tallglass with such force that the stem burst right up through the bowl, leaving her holding only shards amid a flood of fine wine.
Tessaril Winter set down her own glass and made a swift gesture-and the shards were gone from Narantha’s bloodied fingertips, whisked away through the air trailed by droplets of blood and wine. “ ’Tis a good thing I put out the second best glasses, I see.”
Narantha Crownsilver glared at her. “You’re enjoying this! You’re chuckling up your sleeve, like all the other wizards in this realm! Delighted to deny nobles their rights, hiding behind royal orders you refuse to share with us-orders that in this instance I know are false! I heard the Dragon’s reply to me! I know what was in his eyes, his voice! He’ll not be pleased when I tell him of this-that his own Lady Lord of Eveningstar defies his royal will to play Vangerdahast’s little games, one more time! I am a Crownsilver, and far from the least regarded of those who bear that proud name-”
“True,” Tessaril agreed, her face unreadable.
Narantha seethed, raising her hands into claws, but swept on. “And as such have every right to ride where I will, do as I will, and consort with whomever I will, so long as I do no treason and break not the decrees of the king! Not of Vangerdahast, not of you or any other jumped-up courtier! You have no right to hold me, you have no right to arrest me if I march right out of here now-as I’ve done no treason and intend none, and His Majesty knows it-and-and-”
“I’m afraid I do have that right,” Tessaril replied, “and that duty. Please calm yourself and hear me, Narantha-”
“Calm myself? Calm myself? Why should I? How can I calm myself when my freedom is snatched from me unlawfully, my rights of birth are denied and dismissed, my-”
“Good manners quite desert you.” Tessaril rose, in a shifting of skirts-and this was the first time Narantha had seen her in anything but breeches and boots topped by more mens’ garb-and crossed the room in two smooth strides.
Face paling with rage, Narantha darted her hand to the tiny dagger at her belt, but Tessaril deftly captured her wrists and stood over her, saying as gently as before, “Lass, lass, don’t you see how much I want to give in to you? I, too, have known love-”
“Love? Think you I’m in love with that forester? That my heart and loins rule me? Wench, you try me sorely!” Narantha spat. “ ’Tis of my needs I speak! My hunger for adventure, my first chance to do anything in my life that strays in the slightest from my father’s firm hand and my mother’s constant spiteful spying! My-my-”
Words failed her, and she burst into tears of rage, struggling against Tessaril’s strength with snarls and sobs and finally wild tugs and kicks.
Tessaril avoided her sallies with deft ease, saying flatly, “Don’t make me spell-sleep you, Narantha. I will if I must. Yet know this: I will not budge. Save your curses and kicks for a time when they’ll achieve something-if ever you find such a time, in all your hopefully long life. I cannot give in to my whims, for I long ago swore an oath to the Dragon, and I will keep it, or my life is nothing. I have specific orders regarding you, from the king’s own lips.”
“More lies,” Narantha hissed furiously at her, between sobbing breaths. “You’ve had no time to speak with the king! I’ve watched you, every instant since my rising-just as you have watched me! I doubt very much that the Dragon crystal-chats with his lordlings in the heart of the night; I should think the queen would have something to say about that!”
Still holding her wrists, Tessaril said, “Your doubts, I fear, are unfounded. The king himself was here last night.”
“Oh, I suppose he just stepped out of the heart of a spell, sat on the side of your bed, and discussed affairs of state, yes?”
“I don’t recall him sitting,” Tessaril replied, “but we talked, yes. About you, among many, many other things. His Majesty anticipated your displeasure.”
She let go of Narantha, stepped back, and drew something out of her bodice, proferring it between two fingers: a finger of much-folded parchment.
Narantha stared up at the Lady Lord of Eveningstar, then at the parchment-and snatched it, unfolding it with hands that trembled in haste.
Dearest Narantha, Lady Crownsilver:
Life is a series of hardships and hard choices for us all. This is one of yours. Every Cormyrean, noble or common-born, owes absolute loyalty to the Dragon Throne. You are to obey Lord Tessaril Winter as if she were me. Your spirit does you credit, but every noble must learn that obedience is worth far more to the realm and to its people, as well as to its sovereign. I pray you make me proud.
It was signed “Azoun, Fourth of that Name.”
Narantha bit her lip.
“You know what it says?”
Tessaril nodded. “I watched him write it.”
Narantha read it again, holding it almost tenderly in one hand while her other balled into a trembling fist. Then she smote the arm of her chair, again and again, weeping.
This time, when Tessaril’s arms went around her, she buried herself in that warm, soft comfort, and clung to it.
“Not much longer now,” Florin said.
“Good,” Jhessail sighed. “I’m tired, and I’m cold, and sitting here in the dark watching lightning bolts that snap just often enough to keep me from dozing off doesn’t strike me as glorious adventure.”
“You’re not sitting in the dark,” Pennae said. “One lantern’s enough. The gods don’t pour lamp oil down out of the skies, know you.”
“Hrast! There goes my seventeenth scheme for riches,” Semoor said. “Seen any ghosts yet, anyone? They call it ‘the Haunted Halls,’ look you!”
“Cleric-to-be of Lathander,” Martess said, “still your tongue. Or I’ll do so for you.”
“That should be fun.”
“Oho,” Islif told the ceiling, “Semoor Wolftooth is about to have an adventure. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Narantha read the royal letter for the thirty-sixth time. This time, when she refolded it carefully, slipped it back into her bodice, and raised her eyes to the ever-watchful Tessaril, she found amusement in the Lady Lord of Eveningstar’s gaze.
“There are no hidden words there, I fear,” Tessaril said, “and no lurking spell. It won’t change what it says, no matter how often you read it.”
Narantha sighed, then shook her head as if she could wish away all lords, towers, wizards, and commanding kings. “I… I just want to ride free,” she said mournfully. “To burst out of this kind confinement. To ride with the Swords, and see adventures-”
“From a safe distance?”
“I-yes, from a safe distance, though that’s cowardly of me, I suppose, and unworthy. I-hrast it, Lady Lord Tessaril, I am weary up to here with sitting cooped up in a lord’s tower, surrounded by an everpresent escort of Purple Dragons and war wizards!”
“Of course. Have some more of this superb cheese-and the zzar? — and look into the fire.”
The flames of the hearthfire danced strangely, shaping themselves into a scene of armed and armored horsemen riding along a road, a purposeful line of men all garbed alike, who rode under banners that swirled and flapped just like the Crownsilver banners did, when her father rode out to “Those are your family banners,” Tessaril said.
Narantha’s head jerked up. “You’re reading my mind? ”
“I don’t have to, when your face softens so, remembering. No, the cleverness of my spell is confined to shaping flames.”
“So just how is it that you managed to show me my father riding somewhere, if you plucked it not from my mind?”
“I saw it in my scrying crystal, when you last sought yon garderobe,” Tessaril replied. “Your father is a-riding with all his men-at-arms, right now.”
“Riding under arms? Where?”