Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [100]
"Warmed by the reflected fire of the crown," he'd heard a minstrel describe that feeling once. Whatever. To Dauneth, that laughing man spurring past on the magnificent horse would always be King Azoun, no matter what passing years and the poison or disease or whatever it was had done to the man now, and he would fight, even die if need be, in Azoun's name because of that bright memory Let Cormyr always have such men riding across it, laughing and exultant, the Purple Dragon bright on their breasts, the sun smiling down, the- "Drunk already, lad? Should I let you have this second one, or 'twould it be an act of kind charity to drink it all myself?"
Dauneth jerked back from that jovial voice to blink at Rhauligan, for a moment measuring one laughing man against another… and then surging Azoun on his horse was gone, and the loud, living, and very boisterous merchant was thunking two tankards as tall and as cold as the first pair down on the table and following them to a seat on the other side of the table, while calls came from across the room of, "Rhauly!" "You old snake!" "Where're the two tankards you owe me?" and "So who's your friend, Old Rolling-guts?"
Glarasteer Rhauligan grinned at the room in general and bellowed, "Ho, Tessara! Got a kiss for me yet?"
The amorous lady untwined herself from the merchant enough to lift a slim, black-scabbarded longsword into view and say, not unkindly, "In here, Old Shortcoin!"
"Ah," the merchant said, leaning forward, "but what if I showed you a man just swimming in golden lions, eh?"
"I'd show you the next man to become your victim," Tessara told him promptly, "but as you're not likely to do any such thing, why don't you introduce your friend-or is he just the dupe who paid for your tankard?"
"Well, yes," Rhauligan admitted, sinking down behind his ale with a rueful smile and a wave of surrender. Amid general snorts and exclamations of mirth, he added, "But I'll do as you bid… and do it proper, too. Know, Dauneth, that the lady with the sharp blade and sharper tongue is Tessara, now company-for-hire but once a pirate on the sea that roils past the very docks of Suzail."
Tessara essayed a small, swaying bow and smile, without leaving the arms of the lean merchant, whom Rhauligan loudly introduced as Ithkur Onszibar, an independent long-haul caravan merchant from Amn hoping to find a business partner in Suzail to anchor the eastern end of his trade route. The man winced at this shrewd intelligence, whereupon the others in the Snout Room-save for the staring, disapproving table of priests and the silent, watchful mercenary-all roared with laughter.
Rhauligan made a mock bow of his own and identified the other two merchants as Gormon Turlstars, a dealer in blades and fine-tempered tools from Impiltur-the grim one-and Athalon Darvae, a textiles dealer from Saerloon who'd been thinking of moving to Suzail but was now having second thoughts. That observation brought as big a wince, and laugh, as Rhauligan's daring sally about the caravan master. When the jovial merchant introduced Dauneth Marliir, however, there were a few whistles and the room-the entire room, Dauneth noted uncomfortably-grew silently attentive.
"In town to watch an old foe die?" Tessara asked boldly, but Rhauligan saw the sudden flush of crimson cross the face of his newfound companion, from ear to ear to fingertips, and made a swift interjection.
"Now, now. How can the lad be doing that when he's but newly arrived in Suzail and doesn't even know what's going on? I'd like to hear the latest myself, O most masterful of gossips and spies!"
The room erupted in chatter as all four of Rhauligan's acquaintances spoke