Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [74]
"Your Majesty," the swordlord began, his tones matching the general unhappiness, "I'm sorry to say th-"
He was astonished when the king flung up a hand in a soundless order to be silent, but obeyed, watching mutely as Azoun took two swift steps away and swung his arm to bid all of the men around him to keep silence and fall back.
Father.
Alusair's voice, in his mind, trembled on the sword's edge of helpless tears. "Yes, lass," he muttered, as gently and warmly as he knew how. "I'm here. Speak."
Utter slaughter. Dragon. Few of us left-goblinkin on all sides. I fear I can't get my men out.
Azoun threw back his head, looking up through bare, hacked branches at a sky that was thankfully free of dragons, and drew in a deep breath. He knew in that moment that he was going to Alusair's side.
Tanalasta was just going to have to deal with the problems at court on her own. The gods and all Cormyr knew she'd had long enough to get to know the nobles and their ways, and a trial by fire while a certain Azoun Obarskyr lay near death and a grasping young Bleth romanced her and sought to dupe his way onto the throne. Moreover, the crown princess had come a long way since those dark days, and learned much. In these last few months, she'd continually surprised him with the sudden flowering of her confidence and ability.
The Steel Princess, on the other hand, was a known quantity. She was a warrior who could lead Cormyr and keep it strong even if all of her kin-especially one old, white-haired, wheezing warrior who happened to wear a crown on his head-were to fall. She was a blade no kingdom should throw away, even if she hadn't been his favorite daughter.
More than that, to stride into the palace now would be to rob Tanalasta of any chance for a victory at court, or increased confidence, or a reputation for anything in the eyes of anyone, or learning anything from what had befallen-all would be swept away as "the little girl mishandling the throne ere her father returned."
It hadn't been such a hard decision after all.
"Make ready, men," he called, making sure Alusair would hear his words through their rings. "We go north as swiftly as we can, to join the force under the Steel Princess. No battle cries, now, and no noise. The dragons seem to be bad this year."
He wasn't sure who groaned more grimly at that, the men around him, or Alusair in her desperation, standing wearily on a hilltop leaning on a blade black with drying orc blood.
23
They were sitting on the veranda of the grand Crownsilver estate, three of them-Maniol Crownsilver himself, Duke Kastar Pursenose, and the Lady of Pearls, Bridgette Alamber-drinking merlot and staring out over the rolling grounds of the estate. The lands looked as though a rare freeze had drifted in from the north and overstayed the tolerance of its hosts. The pear orchards had withered to neat rows of twisted black skeletons, the much-vaunted flock of Silver-marsh sheep lay bloated and huffing in their brown pasture, and the vineyard had vanished beneath a snowy blanket of white mold.
"A pity about the vineyard, Manny," said Lady Alamber, draining the last red drops from her glass. "There simply is no equal for the Silverhill merlot. I shall miss it, I'm afraid."
"We still have a barrel or a hundred in the cellar." Maniol drained the last of the ewer's contents into Lady Alamber's glass and set the empty container on the table edge, where an anonymous hand in a white glove took it away to be refilled. "I'll have a cask sent over for you."
"You're too kind."
"Not at all," said Maniol. "All I ask is that you keep it away from your magic."
"You may rest assured," said Lady Alamber. "It would be a pity to have such a fine vintage spoiled by one of these ghazneth