Crusade - James Lowder [13]
"What about the Trappers' Guild, then?" the dalelord returned. "I hear you're having trouble with them about the crusade."
"A few grouchy hunters hardly constitute 'trouble,' " Azoun offered. He bowed slightly to the delegates from the important merchant kingdom of Sembia, "Though we certainly have the highest respect for our trade guilds."
The leader of the Sembian delegation, Overmaster Elduth Yarmmaster, stood. A rather flabby man with a relaxed, almost discourteous air about him, the overmaster was resplendent in rich purple robes that morning. "We have heard of the trade unrest in your land, Your Highness, and it does trouble us.
However, isn't it more likely the Tuigan themselves are spying upon us?" He waved a fat-fingered, gold-ringed hand in lazy circles. "They, above all, would dearly love to learn our plans."
"You obviously know little of the Tuigan."
The voice was low and gravelly, but strong. All heads turned to the front of the room, where the old woman stood. She regarded the assembly coldly, through hooded eyes. After running her fingers along the fold of her plain white wrap, the woman added, "The Tuigan do not value magic as we do, and they care little for what you do here in Cormyr."
Gasps and mutters answered the woman's slight. Vangerdahast and Azoun both stepped to her side and held up their hands in an attempt to calm the crowd.
"Do not quiet them on my account, Azoun of Cormyr," the old woman said flatly, turning her sharp gray features toward the king. "Once they hear the wisdom of my words they will be respectful enough."
The muttering grew angrier, and Azoun silently wished that they had not been blessed with the woman's presence. She may have won Vangerdahast to his side, but she was about to alienate most of his allies. "Please, noble lords and ladies, Fonjara Galth is a representative from Rashemen. Hear what she has to say."
When Azoun identified the woman, the assembly quieted almost instantly.
Though many in Faerun traded with Rashemen, which lay on the easternmost fringes of the "civilized Realms," few westerners were very comfortable in the presence of that country's people. Ballads often referred to Rashemen as the "Land of Berserkers," for many of its inhabitants were savage, relentless fighters. More mysterious still were the country's rulers. A huhrong nominally guided the land from his steel-walled palace in the city of Immilmar. In reality, a powerful, secretive group of witches held the reins of Rashemen's government.
Though the witches rarely traveled outside their country without adopting foolproof disguises, the lords and ladies who stood and sat in shocked silence wondered if Fonjara might indeed be one of Rashemen's real rulers.
The short old woman held her body still, her thin, bony arms folded across her chest. She surveyed the room for a moment, paying particular attention to the wizards who waited, slack-jawed, for her to speak. "I will not pretend or play games with you. I am here on behalf of Huhrong Huzzilthar, lord of Immilmar and commander of our standing army-and the sisterhood who also rule the land."
Gasps and murmurs washed over the room anew at Fonjara's overt reference to the witches. A faint, fleeting half-smile crossed the woman's gray face as she listened to the astonished hum from the nobles. A few of the Cormyrian lords looked to Azoun and Vangerdahast for some kind of confirmation. The king and his advisor remained stone-faced as best they could, though Azoun was finding it difficult to contain his excitement.
"My people have battled the dire Red Wizards of Thay, our villainous neighbors to the north, for many years," the woman rasped after a moment.
"We have kept those vile sorcerers in check with little help from the rest of Faerun. Now, we face another threat, the Tuigan-and our magic and the bloodied steel of our bravest warriors are not enough to stop this barbaric horde."
For the first time since reaching the