Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [79]
The old man's face clouded. "As you say, Iltharl is not a bad man. Not bad in the same way as Boldovar was. If anything, Boldovar was too much a descendant of Ondeth and Faerlthann, and Iltharl was too little. Perhaps some of us, myself included, saw too much of Boldovar's madness and sought overly hard to protect his son from it. And protected him so well he's proved to be ineffective as a leader. We ourselves have crafted an insufficient king."
The mage sighed deeply. "I find it amusing that so many people, particularly those of noble blood, respect Boldovar more than his son. Boldovar was murderous, ravenous, rapacious, and insane, yet he was strong and forceful, and his faults are forgiven for this. Iltharl is thoughtful and mild and caring, probably the most learned of any of the Kings of Cormyr, but he is reviled for his weakness and timidity. I had to foil five plots against Boldovar's life in his entire reign. I've had to thwart that many attempts against Iltharl's life this year alone."
The wizard transfixed the young nobleman with his dragon-sharp eyes. "But yours is the first that has not involved killing the king outright. Were you to hang yourself with your own tongue, I would have that tongue, and I would have the priests speak to your eternal essence and tear from it who your conspirators were. You may have figured on this… and if so, my opinion of Cormyrian nobles rises."
Sagrast went the color of old cheese. "We only want what's best for the kingdom…"
"You want what's best for yourself," barked Baerauble, eyes glinting across the table with sudden fire. "I see none of the tripartite Silvers here, who nestle so closely to the king's robes. And none of the Rayburtons or Muscalians sit in this meeting. Oh, yes, I know which nobles are hiring mercenaries and drilling militia and buying swords of Impilturian steel. What good end do they serve? And who, if they grow dissatisfied with whomever they install as Iltharl's successor and seek to plunge the realm into war, will rule them? A young noble of a middling house, whose reputation was built on serving the crown if not the head that wears it?"
Sagrast was silent. After what seemed like a very long time, he swallowed noisily. Baerauble smiled at him. "You get your wish, youngling. I will stand aside and not interfere in your attempts to find a 'suitable' king for Cormyr. And how long do you think such a labor will take?"
"I think it will take a year to get Gantharla and Lord Bleth together, with all of us pushing," Sagrast ventured, almost shuddering with relief that his life wasn't going to end horribly right then and there.
"You are young and an optimist," the wizard replied, and Sagrast was afraid he would be treated to another bout of bone-dry laughter. "And if those two individuals notice each other, what then? What does Sagrast Dracohorn oversee then?"
"A suitable courtship," answered Sagrast, his voice gaining strength, "a decent period after the wedding, assuming the first child is male, and then ensuring the heir survives the battery of childhood illnesses and has a basic training in government."
"From such caring nobles as the friends of Lord Bleth," the wizard interjected.
"And the trustworthy family wizard," added Sagrast. "I figure twelve years."
Baerauble smiled very thinly. "Do you think Cormyr can stand twelve more years of kind, hapless Iltharl?"
"I think," Sagrast said slowly, licking his lips in nervousness, "that it would if we had the promise of an heir on the way."
The mage was silent for a long moment, and in the city beyond the shutters, Sagrast heard a distant disturbance: shouts and the clashing of steel. Adventurers