Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [157]
"Gold-fisted, book-smart, thieving, lawyer-loving, scheming merchants!" he bellowed. "How did my ancestors stand to have such worms as their neighbors all these years?"
"They were far neighbors for most of that time," the wizard explained patiently, "and spent most of the time in frays with the elves and the Dalesmen to the north, and with their own Chondathan masters. Now that they are free of Chondath's tethers, they seek their own future."
"A future that includes Cormyrean territory, it seems," Pryntaler shot back. "Perhaps we should take the battle to them, instead of wasting time on words!"
The other nobles at the fireside raised a cheer, and Jorunhast saw a few of the servants and his own scribes nodding in agreement. He shook his head in amazement.
Pryntaler, son of King Palaghard and the warrior queen Enchara of Esparin, had grown strong and true, the very image of his father. He had his father's broad shoulders and piercing blue eyes. He had inherited his mother's fiery temper, however, and her ability to bring the troops to a blood boil. Which was, of course, exactly what this situation did not need.
Jorunhast sighed deeply. He had grown as well, though most of that had involved an ever-increasing waistline. His shoulders were still broad, and he had slowed the work of time sufficiently to keep his good looks. But next to Pryntaler, the wizard tended to resemble a baker or a contented Lathanderite friar. If Pryntaler got his troops incensed, nothing would stop them short of war. And Jorunhast realized what none of his countrymen seemed to see: In any dispute that went beyond a single battle, Cormyrean steel could not hope to prevail against Sembian gold.
Jorunhast did not entirely blame his liege's inherited temper for these outbursts. In each of their meetings thus far, the five Sembiaris had behaved like moneylenders approving a loan, as opposed to diplomats meeting a king. Kodlos was their nominal leader, but he had to check with the others before deciding even on breakfast. The vulpine Homfast and vulturelike Lady Threnka were united in their lust to make Marsember Sembian. Old Bennesey was the scholar of the group and seemed to have every treaty, purchase, and chance meeting of the two nations committed to memory. And Jollitha Par sat there and said nothing but watched everything, a spider waiting at the center of his web.
At no time in the past three days had they received Pryntaler as a royal personage, or even a head of state. They would not call him "Majesty" or "Sire." They interrupted him often, with the air of merchants breaking into the ramblings of a junior clerk. They asked improper questions that time and again sent Jorunhast to check with his scribes, and then challenged their records while the king sat smoldering. Jorunhast felt they did not want war, but their treatment of the king sent them well down the dark road to the battlefield.
For his part, as the talks wore on, Pryntaler had become more belligerent and stubborn. Now he was refusing to even discuss minor matters of tariffs and exports, merely presenting the Cormyrean viewpoint and refusing to compromise. Jorunhast understood his mood in the face of the constant insults and spurious challenges of plainly established facts and historical records, but the Sembians were not rebellious minor nobles or haughty representatives of someplace so comfortably distant as Thay. These men had gold to spend, and they would send it to work in Cormyr, or they would send it elsewhere. And if they sent it elsewhere, they might use it to buy soldiers.
None of these observations would calm the angry king nor sway the other nobles and guards, so Jorunhast cleared his throat and said, "Perhaps we should merely decamp tonight and return to Suzail. Methinks the Sembians would get a very clear message should we not be here next morning."
Pryntaler halted by the fire, as if looking for an answer in its coals. Jorunhast knew that despite