Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [104]
Tessara's dark eyes narrowed. "That's a peculiar way for a Marliir to talk-supporting the crown."
"What do you mean?" Dauneth asked softly, feeling a trembling rage surging up in him. Without thinking, his hand reached for his blade.
His fingers met the cold edge of a drawn sword, blocking his way to his own scabbard. Tessara's eyes were as wintry as the steel under his fingertips as she said, "Does your family not speak of such things as their war with King Dhalmass? Or the Prince Regent Salember? Or do they prefer not to deal with past defeats?"
"I-" Dauneth began hotly, and then fell silent because he realized he had nothing to say. His family didn't speak of such matters, and this woman looked as if she knew exactly what she was talking about… as well as how to handle a sword. He'd not even seen her draw the blade that she was now slowly pulling back, tip lifted a little to catch his gaze as a warning. He looked past it and into her eyes, and suddenly he thought how beautiful she looked, hard and confident, and…
He knew be was blushing again and managed to say, "Lady, I meant no offense to anyone here. I was simply shocked by the way all of you-"
"Spoke lightly of the realm?" Rhauligan said roughly. "Lad, that doesn't mean we don't love it!"
The short silence that followed his words was broken by a drawl from Darvae. "Well, it seems the young high-boots is a panther, after all."
Someone started to laugh, but fell silent. The entire Snout Room joined in the sudden, tense stillness.
A man had come into the room, walking alone, a stout man in a plain brown robe, bound about at the waist with a tasseled rope of the palest mauve. He looked about, his brown eyes almost stern, and Dauneth felt as if the man's brief glance had named, measured, and taken inventory of all the clothing and gear of a certain young Marliir.
Though many would not have called the paunchy, bareheaded man in robes impressive, everyone in the Roving Dragon had fallen silent-and stayed that way as Vangerdahast, the Royal Magician of Cormyr, went to the table where the mercenary captain was sitting. They exchanged wordless nods, and the wizard sat down, favoring the room with a wry little smile as he did so. Abruptly the sounds of chatter, creaking cartwheels, and shouting street vendors filled the room. The sounds of the Promenade outside, somehow brought in to swirl about…
Magic. Of course. To keep others from overhearing. Dauneth gaped at the stout wizard, who was leaning forward, elbows on the mercenary's table. They talked briefly and quietly, then nodded and rose together, striding out without looking around or acknowledging a tentative hail from Rhauligan. The sounds of the street went out with them, leaving the end room of the Roving Dragon silent again.
It was Tessara who broke the stillness, asking in a low voice, "Now, why does the Lord High Wizard of Cormyr need to hire mercenaries? To fight off rebellious nobles? Or Purple Dragons?"
"Yes… and Dragons loyal to whom?" Turlstars said grimly.
"We'll know soon enough, I fear," Rhauligan said almost wearily. He looked up at Dauneth. "You picked a bad time to come to Suzail, lad."
The young noble shrugged, affecting a confidence he did not feel. "If the realm needs me…"
Tessara smiled suddenly. "It saves riding here, you mean?" She shook her head and added, "You may be called on all too soon. The realm needs strong, orderly rule, or your fellow nobles, locked in feuds and rivalries that go back past all our memories, will tear it apart like hungry wolves."
"I've never seen darker days in Suzail," Turlstars said heavily. "What I want to know most of all is how can the realm survive?"
Chapter 16: The King's Touch
Year of the Sea Princes
(432 DR)
It's never been this bad, thought Elvarin Crownsilver in the darkness. How can the realm possibly survive?
She looked around the night-shadowed forest. Here were the last of the great House of Obarskyr, huddling in the dark, waiting for a traitor to bring them their first victory
Their first victory in three long