Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [98]
"Yes, sir! May the gods smile on you this month, and the next, too!" Braundlae said enthusiastically. When the young man was gone around the bend in the stair, she turned to Rhauligan and murmured, "Is he crazed?"
"No, just rich," Glarasteer Rhauligan said cheerfully. "Probably one of the richest young men in all Cormyr right now. Of noble Marsembian blood, here to ingratiate himself at court."
Braundlae lifted eyebrows that had seen much travel in their day and said, 'Well, when there's a healthy king again-or a new one-it won't take long for the throne to smile upon him if he throws money about like that." She stared down at the coins in her hand as if she still couldn't quite believe it, which was the honest thing to do, because she couldn't.
"No, wench, it's loyalty the Obarskyrs value, not money. Loyalty."
Braundlae lifted her eyes from the gleaming gold to stare at him, and then up at the empty stairs where the young noble had gone. "Disloyal? Him? I'll not believe that."
Rhauligan shrugged. "He just gave you far too much money, of course you'll not think ill of him. What matters is how many young noblemen far shrewder than him buy friendships and allies daily."
"I'm sure," the hostess said cynically. "Besides, who's to say the king he'll be kneeling to will be an Obarskyr?"
"There's Tanalasta," said the merchant, "and Alusair."
"Both hide from the task," replied the hostess, "one in her account books, the other behind the sword. I repeat, will the next king be an Obarskyr at all?"
"How could it not be and this land still be Cormyr?"
Braundlae shrugged. "One family does not a realm make-or keep. There're no secret male heirs locked up in palace closets so far as I know, so if the king and the baron go down, as everyone's saying they will or in fact have already, there can't help but be another line of kings on the Dragon Throne! Now, once someone has taken the crown, I don't know how long they'll be able to hold on, once all the nobles see how one of their own is lording it over them, and they start thinking about how easy it'd be to supplant them in turn."
"Have you hired a mage to fireproof your shutters yet?" the merchant asked quietly.
Braundlae frowned at him. "What? Why d'you prattle on about…" She fell silent, looking troubled.
"As you said," Rhauligan said in a low voice, "once one noble takes the crown, what's to stop another from trying for it? We'll have daggers in the alleys and then swords in the streets, until armies are riding into Suzail to make this noble or that one our sovereign! And the court is right across the flaming road from here, Brauna! Where do you think the wars'll be fought?"
"Oh, gods," the hostess whispered, her face gone pale, her apron bunched up to cover her lips.
"It could go on for years, with young hotheads riding around the realm declaring for this family or that, tearing the realm apart, with no crops to take in and no laws to shelter us. You'd better hope old Azoun doesn't die!"
"'Young hotheads'? Oh, some noble sons are like that, to be sure, but this Dauneth, now, was perfectly nice!"
"Yes, and his family has been so disloyal to the Obarskyrs that the Royal Magician's probably measuring out dungeon manacles for him right this minute."
"Him?"
"Indeed. His family's rebelled against the crown a time or two, forgot to pay their fair handfuls of coins in tax to the throne… and rode with bloodied sword at the orders of Salember the Serpent!"
"And they kept their heads? How does he dare come here at all?"
"Why do you think young noblemen like him are coming here now, with the king dying? They say he was poisoned. Anyone like this Dauneth who's been here a month or so could have done it, or known it was going to happen and hovered like a vulture to seize whatever power came loose for the taking. Soon the city'll be full of all the other young noble sons, come to join the circling cloud around the king-to-be-corpse. You won't be able to ladle sauce fast enough to keep up, Brauna!"
The hostess looked at him grimly, and then said sourly, "You make the days