Crusade - James Lowder [33]
The king knew that history might report him to be the next traitor to Cormyr if Bors was an accurate manifestation of his subjects' true feelings about the crusade-his crusade. What his descendants thought of him mattered to Azoun more than it probably should have, so before he headed to the throne room to meet the Zhentish envoy, he devised a plan by which he might discover the people's real opinion of the crusade and uncover any plots the trappers might have hatched for open revolt.
Putting that plan into action would have to wait for the following night, when he'd have a chance to make a suitable disguise.
The royal chamberlain, decked out in his finest costume, entered the throne room. He strode pompously to the center of the large hall and bowed to the figure on a throne at the room's opposite end. After a few moments of silence, which seemed to the Zhentish envoy like an hour, he sharply rapped the tip of his gold-shod staff on the polished marble beneath his feet.
"Your Highness, may I present Lythrana Dargor, special envoy from Lord Chess at Zhentil Keep."
The introduction rang through the room, echoing off the stone floor and beautiful stained glass windows, eventually getting lost in the rich tapestries that covered most of the walls. Special Envoy Dargor stood patiently still, despite the fact that she had been told in Zhentil Keep not to expect any formality when dealing with Azoun IV.
On the throne, the king tapped his foot, silently counting off the time before he would allow the Zhentish politician to advance. He fidgeted slightly and toyed with his long purple cloak. At Azoun's side, Vangerdahast stood, resplendent in his most colorful robe. A closer look at the wizard would reveal red, bloodshot eyes and a slight pallor about his cheeks, but he hid his exhaustion almost as well as Azoun masked his.
After a short time, when Azoun felt certain the wait must be seeming like an eternity to the visiting dignitary, the king sat up straight and said, "Let her advance, Lord Chamberlain."
The chamberlain bowed again and turned to Lythrana. She straightened her gray blouse, petulantly brushed a stray strand of raven-black hair, then started toward the king. Her high-heeled boots sent sharp, cracking footsteps throughout the hall, and her black, high-collared dress hissed where it dragged along on the floor behind her.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet Your Highness," Lythrana said in a low sibilant voice after she bowed.
"We are pleased that Zhentil Keep sent such an accomplished politician to discuss Faerun's needs," the king responded. Though Vangerdahast chuckled inwardly at Azoun's use of the royal "we," an affection he rarely adopted, he knew the king was serious in his praise of the Zhentish envoy. Lythrana Dargor's reputation as a shrewd negotiator was well known throughout the lands around the Inner Sea.
Noting the king's praise with a slight smile, Lythrana said, "On my way from the Keep, I learned of the recent attempt on your life. Lord Chess would certainly wish me to send his hopes that you escaped unscathed."
"This was the first you'd heard of the attempt?" Vangerdahast asked, a bitter taint of sarcasm edging his voice.
Spreading her long-fingered, white hands open before her in a sign of peace, the sultry envoy said, "It is natural for the king's worthy advisors-" she bowed slightly to Vangerdahast "-to suspect Zhentil Keep in this matter. We make no secret of the methods by which we solve our problems, or the gods we worship." The envoy brushed her long bangs out of her eyes. On her forehead lay a circle of black, surrounding a white, grinning skull-the symbol of Lord Cyric, the God of Death, Lies, and Assassination.
"We appreciate your honesty," the king said coolly.
Again Lythrana nodded and let her hair fall back