Crusade - James Lowder [66]
The princess reached behind her, picked up the cuirass she had dropped onto the ground, and placed it on the table between her and her father. "With a good suit of armor," Alusair began, running her finger along the fantastically carved metal, "and a sharp sword, I can right as many wrongs as I can find between sunup and sundown."
"That's all fine, Allie, but you can't make any significant change as an adventurer. I tried, remember? That's what the King's Men was all about."
Alusair stared at the light reflecting on the armor before her. "I guess I just don't want the responsibility for anyone else. I only kill myself if I try to rescue someone from an ogre or if I decide to take a side in a war." She traced a dent in the armor, recently but not completely mended. "And if I die, I know I fought for a good cause."
Reflexively running a hand through his gray-shot beard, Azoun stood up and paced around the pavilion. The wind was picking up outside, and occasional strong breezes made the sides of the tent snap and bow. After a few circuits around the long table, the king faced his daughter. "What have you been fighting for, Allie? What have you done with the last four years?"
The princess looked up from her armor. "I've been to Waterdeep, Ravens Bluff, Damara, even the Moonshae Isles. I lived for a while on the money I took with me when I left the castle. After that, I worked as a caravan guard, helped a fishing village make a bargain with a dragon turtle, even hunted for the Ring of Winter for a season or two."
The mention of the Ring of Winter, a powerful artifact that had been missing for many, many years, made Azoun start. Most of the beings who sought it were power-mad and very often evil. "These are jobs any mercenary would take, Allie. How can you say you've been fighting for good causes?"
"I always knew who I was working for, Father. I always knew what their goals were."
Azoun fell silent again and paced for a few more minutes. After that, he asked the princess more questions, but each yielded a short, dry answer. The king learned where his daughter had been, what she had done there, but very little about her life. "And did you always travel alone?" Azoun asked after she told him of the time she'd been captured by a party of drow north of Waterdeep. "I'd heard that you'd run away with a cleric from Tilverton."
The comment had an immediate effect on Alusair. She paled noticeably, even in the shadowy tent, and her voice trembled slightly when she replied.
"Yes, Father. I… traveled with a cleric from Tilverton, Gharri of Gond. He died as we tried to escape some bounty hunters. They were after the reward you'd put on my return."
Azoun moved to his daughter's side. "I don't know what to say… other than I'm sorry for your loss."
"For a long time I blamed his death on you, Father," the princess said, her face betraying the strain the topic was putting on her. "I only recently decided that you couldn't have known what the bounty hunters would do."
The silence that followed the revelation of Gharri's death was longer and more deadening than the last. Alusair sat, her head bowed slightly, remembering her lost love. Azoun stood over his daughter, his hand on her shoulder. The king considered breaking the silence again, but found there was nothing he could say that wouldn't sound maudlin or foolish.
The high, shrill sound of a trumpet crying out over the dwarven camp broke the sad calm in the pavilion. The king heard low, rumbling voices, speaking in Dwarvish. The hushed voices were echoed by faint sounds of metal clanging.
With a slight shock, Azoun realized that this was the first noise he'd heard from the dwarven camp all evening. After the drilling had ended at sundown, the camp had become deathly silent, highly unusual for a large gathering of soldiers.
Alusair grabbed her cuirass and stood up. The trumpet called out again, a harsh, trilling note. "Orcs," the princess hissed. "The sentries have spotted orcs."
As Alusair retrieved the brassards