Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [43]
The expected murmur had barely begun when a husky voice called out from the back of the crowd, "Perhaps I may be of some service in that regard, Majesty."
Tanalasta looked toward the speaker and saw a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and darker eyes stepping out of a small circle of Rowanmantles, Longthumbs, and other merchant families. The fellow's foppish feathered hat prevented the princess from seeing his face clearly, but as he bowed she caught a glimpse of swarthy cheekbone and a proud cleft chin. Her heart began to pound so violently that she feared the nobles could hear it down on the chamber floor. Though she could not imagine what Rowen would be doing in the garish silks of a Sembian merchant, the similarity of their appearance was too great to overlook.
Tanalasta extended a hand and could not quite keep the excitement from her voice as she said, "The gentleman in feathers may rise and present himself."
The enthusiasm in her voice prompted a louder murmur than the last, and even Lord Goldsword turned to see what stranger had prompted such a reaction from their taciturn princess.
The newcomer removed his hat with a flourish and bowed even lower, then answered in an almost comically thick Sembian accent, "As you command, Majesty."
The man stood and started forward, and Tanalasta's heart fell a little. The distance was too far to see his face clearly, but his hair was shorter than Rowen's and more heavily styled. Still, hair could be cut and trained, and if her husband had some reason for coming to her in the guise of a foreigner-and she could not believe any true Sembian would speak with such a thick accent-it would behoove him to be certain his hair supported the disguise.
Tanalasta's curiosity could not wait until the man reached the base of the stairs. "Tell us your name, good sir."
The man stopped and bowed again, and even Queen Filfaeril grew curious enough to leave her throne and step to Tanalasta's side.
"That would be Korian Hovanay," said the man. "Ambassador of the Consortium Princes of Saerloon, Selgaunt, and all of Sembia, at your service, Majesty."
Filfaeril glanced at Tanalasta and cocked her brow, but the princess paid the gesture no regard and motioned the man forward again.
"Come along, Ambassador Hovanay," she said, playing along. "We are discussing serious matters here. We do not have all day to wait on your bowing and scraping."
Korian quickly rose and started forward again, and Tanalasta's heart sank a little further. The man's face was fleshier than her husband's, and it lacked the chiseled, weatherworn aspect that had attracted her to Rowen in the first place.
Still, Sembians liked to eat well, as though the number of a squid tails and octopus legs a man could afford to choke down were a measure of his acumen as a merchant. Two months of such rich, heavily buttered food would fatten the cheeks of even the hardiest royal scout.
Now the Sembian began to speak as he walked. "I apologize for keeping Her Majesty waiting, and will endeavor to be brief. Cormyr's many and growing troubles in the north and elsewhere having come to my masters' attention, they have bade me come to Suzail and offer their every assistance."
"Assistance?" Tanalasta echoed, finding it difficult to concentrate on the man's words instead of his face. "What kind of assistance?"
"The kind the crown of Cormyr finds to be mutually agreeable." The ambassador stopped at the base of the stairs and started to bow again, then caught himself and simply continued. "At this moment, my masters have an army of ten thousand sellswords commanded by our own Sembian officers on the march toward Daerlun."
"Ten thousand?" Filfaeril gasped.
Tanalasta barely heard her mother, for she saw now that this handsome ambassador could not be her Rowen. Though hardly fat-especially by Sembian standards-the merchant's softness clung to him like