Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [113]
Impatiently Tanalasta broke them, froze for a moment for fear that she might have ignited some waiting magical trap, and then-when nothing happened-unfolded the parchment.
"As you can see," Vangerdahast said almost wearily, "it is a fresh writ of regency, signed by your mother, Queen Filfaeril. Since both you and your young Bleth seemed so contemptuous of King Azoun's own authority on an earlier document, and that of his father Rhigaerd, I took the precaution of procuring yet another authorization for my authority. As you can also see, it awaits your signature. My first concern, as always, is the safety of the realm, but I have no interest in ruling over the strident objections of the Obarskyr heir if I can possibly avoid doing so."
"You expect me to sign this?" the princess snapped, nostrils flaring.
"I expect you to consider the implications of everything you do, with the greater good of the realm, and not what you may personally want, always foremost in your mind. It's what your ancestors-and the wizards who have served them, from Baerauble the Wise to, well, myself-have always done. It's what sitting on the Dragon Throne has always been about."
"You just want to force me into giving you the crown," Tanalasta whispered, her voice trembling with rage.
"No, lass, I don't," the wizard said flatly. "If wearing the crown were all that mattered to me, I could take it in an instant. You know that. As Aunadar never tires of reminding you, I do have all those spells."
"Then why haven't you taken it? Or named yourself regent?" Tanalasta almost screamed. "What is your game, wizard?"
"Life is my only game, Tanalasta-the life of the realm, and of every last scheming noble, tame dog, and silly princess in it. I work to make Cormyr ever stronger-not larger, not more decadent, but always a better place to live. It's a long, long game, but then, I've never been a short-bet man, myself."
Tanalasta frowned, and with her eyes steady on the wizard's, slowly started to crumple the parchment. There was a flash, a soft numbing movement through her fingertips, and she was holding empty air.
Vangerdahast was holding the parchment himself. In fact, he was waving it at her. He raised his eyebrows and asked, "I take it you'll not sign this?"
"Never!" Tanalasta spat. "I don't know what vile magic you used on my mother to get her to sign it, but you'll never get me to give in to you and your schemes! What have you done with her?"
Vangerdahast blinked. "Done with her? Nothing, child. You read too many hot romances."
"Get out!" Tanalasta shrieked, pointing an imperious arm at the door. "Just get out!"
The wizard rose. "You can't run away from problems forever, you know. If you don't bother to rule the kingdom, someone else will step in and do it for you."
"Such as you, perhaps?" the crown princess said with a sneer.
The Royal Magician shrugged. "Or anyone… if you don't care who does it, literally anyone could take the throne. A grasping Sembian merchant, perhaps. Or a Zhentarim. A priestess of Loviatar, who might find it fitting that royalty feel pain every night. Who knows? Deciding to rule, or not to rule, and what to do if you do wear the crown is a decision you must make-and, Princess, it is best for the realm if you make it alone. Not with Aunadar. Not with your ladies-in-waiting. Not with Alaphondar or Dimswart or even me. Otherwise, it won't truly be your decision."
"The door still awaits you," Tanalasta said coldly.
Vangerdahast bowed his head, then sketched a bent-knee court bow. "Until next we meet, Princess."
"I hope that's never!" she cried, the fury building in her voice.
"Shall I say until you make a decision, then?" he asked mildly, his hand on the door. A moment later he was through it and striding away, listening to the shattering of expensive