Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [52]
The roar was cut off abruptly by Alusair's next, soft words: "Brace Skatterhawk, I'll see you at my fire, once you've eaten. Don't forget."
* * * * *
Overhead, the stars were bright tonight, there were few clouds to dim their sparkling beauty. Alusair lay on her back, her own personal fire warm at her feet, and stared up at them, remembering the many tales she'd overheard of her father's… excesses. Nay, lass, she thought, call it what it was: philandering. Most such tales stemmed from before he was even married, and some were mere boasts, to be sure, but…
She closed her eyes and was back in the Grand Chamber on a bright morning when she was still in her teens, when many young noblemen who'd come of age together were being presented at court. One after another came in to kneel-and one after another resembled Azoun. Finally old Vangey murmured from behind the throne, "Moderation, my liege?"
She remembered her father's solemn frown and her mother's tight, amused smile, and she remembered pestering Uncle Bhereu about it until the kindly warrior, red-faced and stammering, explained the situation in gentle terms.
"You and your sister are the heirs to the Obarskyr throne," he had said, finally surrendering to the inevitable task of explaining the complex nature of life to the young. "Yet there are others who share your bloodline, though not officially noted as such. Unrecognized, these half-siblings stand no more chance at the throne than a chimney sweep, yet they are there and cannot be ignored."
She sighed and opened her eyes to the stars again, wondering with a sudden chill just how many of these half-siblings shared Bhereu's assessment. How many thought they were justified, by their unrecognized blood, to rule Cormyr? How many of those men with something of her father in their faces would she have to fight, should her father perish?
She sat up and drew her sword. So it was that Brace Skatterhawk found her, still in full armor all misted with night dew, her naked sword across her knees. His eyes widened, but he said merely, "I am here, Lady Highness. You sent for me."
Alusair turned her head and wordlessly beckoned him nearer.
When he stood over her, she looked up at him and asked softly, "So, are you my brother… as they say?"
"Princess!" he said reproachfully, "Does it matter? Should it matter?" He raised a hand to wave away his own irritation at the question, only to find her sword tip at his throat. His commander had come to her feet faster than any night-hunting hill cat.
"As I grow older and more and more of a hag," Alusair murmured, looking into his eyes, "I grow less and less patient. It may have something to do with the ever-decreasing time left to me before that last step into the waiting grave."
She let out a deep, ragged breath, and Brace realized she was a good deal less calm than she was pretending to be.
"I am also, as I grow older," Alusair continued, "falling more and more in love… with the truth. So let me have some of thine, young Skatterhawk. By your oath upon the Crown: Is my father Azoun also your father?"
Brace swallowed, feeling the sharp point of her war blade at his throat and the even sharper points of her eyes, gleaming at him in the gloom. He breathed deeply and said, "So-so I've been told, Lady Highness."
And the blade was gone, bouncing on the turf, as Alusair flung her arms around him and said, "Damn! That means I can't rightly do more than this!" And she grabbed the startled Skatterhawk by the forehead and placed a solid, sisterly kiss upon it. Such was the force of her action, however, that her breastplate bruised Brace's ribs.
Then she spun away, to kneel by the fire and draw forth from it her other blade, the slim court sword she kept at her saddle. Brown things were shriveling on its smoking blade. "Care for some fried mushrooms, Brother?"
He stared at her for a moment in amazement, then burst into shouts of helpless laughter.
"You find mushrooms funny?" she asked in mock