Crusade - James Lowder [23]
"I'd expect as much, Kiri," Mal replied, breaking into a loud, jolly fit of laughter.
John turned to look at the woman called Kiri. She was thin, but had a slightly round face. Her feature were attractive but unremarkable-except for her eyes. Kiri's eyes, sparkling brown and full of laughter, drew the fletcher's gaze instantly. He felt himself grin rather fatuously when he saw her. The grin widened when Kiri smiled back at him affably.
A few others adventurers sitting near John broke the spell as they loudly informed anyone who'd listen that they intended to go to Thesk and fight the barbarians. Drinks were bought, bravery and the king saluted. John wondered how many of the would-be Tuigan-slayers would actually ship out when the time came.
"And what about you, fletcher?" Mal asked. "Are you going to stay here with the children and old folks?"
"I don't know," John replied pensively. "I haven't really thought about it."
That was the truth, too. John put little stock in gossip, and that was all he'd heard concerning the crusade. Still, if the king himself asked for soldiers, the fletcher would probably volunteer. He was a brave man and a good archer.
Above all, John the Fletcher was loyal to his king and country.
Azoun IV had ruled Cormyr for John's entire lifetime. In his twenty-one years, all of which had been spent in Suzail, he'd known no other monarch.
Every year since he could remember, John had devotedly pledged his allegiance to King Azoun at the High Festival of Winter.
Like most other commoners in Cormyr, John knew that his king belonged to House Obarskyr and that his land's calendar was based upon the date Azoun's family had established themselves as rulers in Suzail. This information, along with a smattering of math and the rudiments of Common, the trade tongue of the Inner Sea, was all John had gained from his brief formal education.
Still, this was enough to instill a great sense of loyalty toward Azoun in John. To the craftsman, the king was Cormyr, not just a representative or a figurehead, but a real embodiment of everything that was good about the land. And since Cormyr, and especially Suzail, had flourished during Azoun's reign, John could only assume that the gods of Good approved of the monarch.
"If King Azoun is going to lead the armies," Razor John decided aloud after a moment's pause, "then I suppose I'll go."
Mal immediately bought John another ale, but the fletcher drank only a little of the murky, pungent liquid before he announced that he was off to the castle to hear the king's speech.
"Why?" the burly, blond man asked, scooping up the fletcher's unfinished drink. "The wizards'll make sure Azoun's voice carries over the city. We're just going to go outside."
The woman Mal had called Kiri stood up and attempted to pull the big man from his seat. "Let's go with John," she said between tugs. "I don't think I've ever seen His Highness in person before."
Mal sighed, shrugged out of Kiri's grasp irritably, and downed the rest of the ale in one, long gulp. "All right, all right. We'd best get moving."
So Razor John, Mal, and Kiri made their way out of the Black Rat and started off in the direction of the palace.
"Pawn to king's four."
Queen Filfaeril smiled warmly and scanned the chessboard with her iceblue eyes. "Your game has become rather predictable, husband," she said, moving her hand to the board. She lifted a knight of purest ivory. "Knight takes pawn."
Consternation crossed King Azoun's face. "You know that I'll take that knight with my queen," he said. "Losing it for a pawn seems rather pointless."
The king slid an onyx queen across the board and picked up the white knight in one smooth motion. "Queen takes knight."
Filfaeril studied the board for a moment, then moved her bishop. "Bishop takes queen." Azoun cursed softly. "In three moves I'll have you in checkmate," his wife added.
Azoun lifted a rook, then moved it closer to his king.
The queen's smile faded.