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So far, Tanalasta's campaign to save the south had been little more than a meaningless string of hard rides and costly battles. After spying a ghazneth's depredations, she and a company of handpicked soldiers would teleport to the scene to keep the phantom pinned in place until the rest of the army arrived to destroy it. Inevitably, they caused the area a lot of inadvertent damage, then finally suffered too many casualties to prevent their foe from escaping. That the creatures always seemed to appear a good half day's ride from her army struck the princess as more than coincidence, especially since she was taking precautions to keep the force hidden, but she also knew that her suspicions might be little more than the frustration of trying to catch up to a winged enemy.

A loud rustle sounded from the woods behind Tanalasta, and she turned to find Korvarr Rallyhorn leading Filfaeril, Alaphondar, and a small company of bodyguards toward her table. Hoping her black weathercloak would be enough to conceal her growing bulk from the queen's discerning eye-Tanalasta still had not found the right occasion to mention her pregnancy-she spread her arms and went to embrace her mother.

"You had a safe journey, Majesty?"

"No journey is safe these days, Tanalasta, but it was without incident." Filfaeril returned her daughter's embrace, then stepped back and eyed her up and down. "I see the hardships of the trail have not affected your appetite."

Tanalasta launched instantly into the response she had planned. "We do a lot of waiting. Sometimes it seems there is nothing to do but eat." She stepped away from her mother and embraced Alaphondar. "And how are you, old friend?"

"As well as I hope you are." The sage pressed his mouth to her ear. "Tell her soon, my dear. You are running out of time!"

Tanalasta laughed lightly, as though at some jest. "Alaphondar, that is not a very nice thing to say to a princess!" She released him and glanced over to the war wizards in her mother's party. "Sarmon the Spectacular could not attend?"

"Still too old," Alaphondar said. "The royal priests have not yet learned how to reverse the ghazneth's aging effect."

"Pity," said Tanalasta. "Perhaps Harvestmaster Foley will have some thoughts on the matter when we return."

She guided the pair to her camp table, where Owden Foley sat poring over maps and dispatches. As they approached, the priest stood and bowed to Filfaeril, who returned the gesture with a polite if unenthusiastic smile, then stepped away from his chair to embrace Alaphondar like the old friends they had become.

Tanalasta waited while one of her bodyguards pulled a chair for the queen, then sat next to her. "What news from Alusair and the king, Majesty?" She did not ask about Vangerdahast. Nobody asked about Vangerdahast any more.

"Still nothing about your friend, I'm afraid," said Filfaeril. They both knew what the princess was really asking, for the question was always Tanalasta's first on the infrequent occasions they spoke. "Alusair seems to be holding her own against the orcs. Your father is on his way south to help with the ghazneths."

"Of course." Though Tanalasta's heart sank, she tried not to show her disappointment. The mere presence of her father would draw the rest of the nobles into the fray and spare Cormyr much suffering. That it would also undo what little progress she had made in winning their respect really did not matter. The destruction of the ghazneths was too important to let concerns about prestige interfere. "I am sure the king will bring the situation quickly under control."

Filfaeril took her daughter's hand. "That's what he's best at, Tanalasta, and what he loves. You are to be commended for taking the field in his place, of course, but everyone knows that your strength lies… closer to the palace."

Tanalasta withdrew her hand. "Is that why you arranged this rendezvous? To fetch me home?"

"Actually, I was the one who suggested a meeting." Alaphondar