Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [179]
Jorunhast was there, of course. Where else would the Royal Magician be save here, protecting the crown? Yet Rhigaerd, the treacherous pup, was also here, dressed in the white and purple of his rebellious band. And Damia Truesilver, most cowardly of the cowardly nobles, Rhigaerd's confidante. The woman's belly was swollen with child, and Salember remembered Lord Truesilver himself begetting her with another whelp ere he died in battle.
Had Jorunhast brought the conspirators here for sentencing and punishment? He should have teleported them directly to the deepest dungeon instead.
The wizard looked haggard and worn, as if he had spent the last three nights sleeping in roadside hedges. His shoulders were slumped with age and care. The battles had taken their toll on him as well. "You are here at last," he said. "We must end this, and end it now."
The old wizard stepped down from the dais and positioned himself to one side, between the king and the rebellious prince. The wizard wanted a parley, then. For all the good that would do.
"Greetings, Uncle," said Rhigaerd, his young face struggling to look somber and serious.
"And to you, Nephew," said the king. "You have come to your father's house to surrender yourselves and end this bloody folly?"
"I have come to my father's house, yes," said the Prince, "and I seek to end this folly. But I am not here to surrender, but to talk."
Jorunhast put in, "I convinced Rhigaerd to seek peace with you. We have come from a bloody battle near Wheloon, where the Red and Purple factions beat each other to corpses thick upon the ground… to no resolution."
"If we continue this bloodshed, there will soon he no Cormyr to rule," Rhigaerd added. "Already the Sembians are making restless noises about protecting trade. And agents of the Black Network and the Thayvian wizards cross our borders freely. This must end."
"Agreed," Salember replied coolly. "I am willing to accept your surrender. Your men will be spared. You, of course, will have to accept exile in Waterdeep or the Dalelands."
The young prince's face reddened, and he sputtered a curse. Behind him, Damia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he collected himself. "Surrender my throne?" he said at last.
"Your throne?" mocked Salember. "Nay, may I remind you who has guided this country through nine years of peace? Who has sacrificed his own life for the good of the nation? Who has spent all his waking hours of time and energy living up to the Obarskyr name? The same hours of your youth that were spent hunting, adventuring, and gallivanting about, while I have done the real work. Do you think I'd entrust this great realm to an untried child?"
Salember's face had turned beet-red by now, and the king felt the fire of renewed energy rising up within him. No pup of an upstart was going to waltz in and steal the crown from him without a fight!
Rhigaerd said, "The Obarskyr line has always passed to the oldest suitable direct male candidate. There have been exceptions, and Obarskyr queens have ruled when no male has been available. For nine years, there has been no child of Azoun the Third suitable. Now there is."
"And now you expect to gain a full kingdom as if it were a present for your seventeenth birthday?" snarled Salember.
Rhigaerd's face reddened again, but he held his voice calm. "While you were secure here in the castle with your account books and courtiers and your petty intrigues, I was out in the land itself. You call it gallivanting, but I see it as learning about my country. I have hunted in the King's Forest and drunk deep with the soldiers of High Horn. I have dug the good ground with farmers, spoken with smugglers, fought brigands and goblins, learned language from wandering elves, and my accounts from visiting Sembians."
"A well-spent youth," snapped the king.
"I know my people and my land. I am ready to take on my father's burden," finished the young prince. "I do not want