Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [90]
"So you're the old scarecrow's secret project!" he shouted. "The servants've been wondering about you for two weeks now. You're the mysterious figure Baerauble smuggled into the castle in the dead of night and kept imprisoned in his quarters! Some said you were a creature from the pits and the old wizard was going to trade the realm for eternal life. Others said you were a goddess he'd rescued from the Purple Dragon himself. I see that the rumors were closer to the latter than the former."
Amedahast felt her reddening become a full-fledged blush. This one could give the silver-tongued courtiers of elven Myth Drannor some competition. "I am neither," she said firmly. "Only an apprentice Lord Baerauble has chosen to take on. It was the middle of the night when I arrived, but that was mere happenstance."
"Ah," said the youth with a smile and intoned grandly, "Hearken ye to the First Law of Baerauble: Nothing is coincidence when it involves wizards, and the Royal Wizard in particular!"
"I've hardly been imprisoned, though it does feel like it sometimes," continued Amedahast. "He has been busy teaching me the history and customs of this land before presenting me to the court."
She held out her hand. "I am Amedahast, a middling mage of Myth Drannor, apprentice to Lord Baerauble, High Mage of Cormyr."
The youth dropped to one knee, and Amedahast nearly jumped at the suddenness of his movement. He cradled her hand gently and kissed the back of her wrist. His breath was warm and his lips soft.
Yes, she thought, this one could definitely give the elven courtiers competition.
The smoothness of his manner was broken by the lopsided grin that spread across his face as he stood up again. A happy, puppy-dog sort of smile. She almost expected his tongue to hang out of his mouth. Instead, he said, "They call me Azoun. I mean, Prince Azoun, son of Anglond and descendant of fifty other kings going back to Faerithann himself, young lord of Cormyr and scion of House Obarskyr. Azoun the First, since I assume there will be others."
"I know," said Amedahast, bowing slightly but formally. "The circlet gave it away."
Azoun touched the circlet on his head as if he had noticed it for the first time. Then he gave her another grin. "Comes with the title, I understand. Baerauble has trained the Obarskyrs to always make sure that whatever other fashion crimes they may commit, they always wear the proper hat."
Amedahast found herself smiling at the image of Baerauble picking out the royal wardrobe. "Otherwise, you'd look like one of the castle's hirelings."
"This?" Azoun raised his arms to show off the blousey billows of his shirt. "I ride every morning around this time. I was taking a shortcut from the stables back to the castle."
"I see," said Amedahast. A small silence fell between the two. Then she said, "Well, I came out here to study. Baerauble is a cruel taskmaster."
Azoun did not move away. "History?"
"Geography," said Amedahast, taking two steps up the gazebo stairs. "Local geography."
The young prince gave an exaggerated shrug. "Let me help. I know a good deal about the area, given that it is the family business."
Amedahast flashed a hint of a smile and climbed the steps, taking a place at the back where she could watch the castle and keep an eye out for Baerauble's eventual return. Azoun sprawled a respectable distance away. She sat sideways on the bench, with her knees up on the seat, and unraveled the scroll in her lap. "Soldier's Green," she said.
"Small chunk of land north and west of here," Azoun replied.
She nodded. "Used for marshaling the militia and drilling the palace guards in large-scale maneuvers."
"It was originally the site of an old settlement, wiped out by goblins, back before there was a Cormyr. That was where Keolan Dracohorn of Arabel gained the family name killing a blue dragon, and where Gantharla stationed her foresters when she marched on Suzail and seized the throne from her