The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [14]
The Lady Silvertree nodded, and Blackgult continued. "As to the second concern, I've summoned Flaeros Delcamper-now reportedly on his way to Flowfoam-to stay by Raulin's side as both guardian and spy, and called on two certain courtiers to do the same. Men I trust, mind you, after extensive discussions with them eavesdropped upon by Embra and her Dwaer. They know of each other and of Flaeros, but the bard's unaware of their sworn duties. Thus escorted, I hope to give young Castlecloaks at least a fighting chance against treachery in our absence."
Craer snorted. "I know not which of your trusts is the flimsier: depending on the musical flower of the Delcampers to do anything-or counting on any Tersept of Aglirta to remain loyal when tempted by almost any lure."
'Judge not all men as nursing as dark a mind and morals as your own," Blackgult said rather sternly. "If we were all so self-serving, the Vale would have drowned in shed blood long ago, and this would all be beast-country, haunted by the restless spells of murdered mages and roamed by desperate outlaws."
"Now there's as good a description of Aglirta as I've heard in years," Craer remarked.
Tshamarra nodded. "Forgive my forthright speech, Lord Blackgult," she murmured, "but many in other lands would agree. 'Cursed Aglirta' is not an unfamiliar expression anywhere on the coasts of Asmarand."
"No doubt, and not without reason, either, but surely we know better- and work to make it doubly false."
"We stray," Hawkril rumbled. "Let us accept that the King is as well guarded as we can manage for now, and return to our personal progress: across country, or halt nigh Osklodge for some reason, or more likely on to either Stornbridge or Jhalaunt-but which?"
"Stornbridge," Craer said promptly. "More to do."
Embra lifted one eyebrow. "Steal, you mean?"
The procurer blinked at her. "Lady Silvertree, you wound me. You wound me deeply-"
"Not yet, Lord Delnbone, but the fate you anticipate may soon befall if your lips continue to spew such sly foolishness," Embra told him. "Quell the clever comments for once and speak plainly. You favor Stornbridge. For other reasons, so do I."
Craer grinned. "More places to buy gowns, sleep in decent beds, and shop?"
"Now who wounds who? I thought more thus: The larger place is more likely to house someone with a Dwaer, given that our fellow folk of the Vale seem unable to keep patient-and hide treasures-for long."
"Sarasper managed it," Hawkril rumbled. There was a little silence ere Craer sighed and turned to look upriver, as if his eyes could somehow pierce miles of trees, hills, and riverbends to the grassy mound on the far prow of Flowfoam, where their friend now lay buried.
"He grew old doing so," Embra said gently, "as did the Crow of Cardassa, remember?"
Blackgult half-growled and half-snorted in agreement. "I'm not feeling all that young myself, these days."
Craer grinned at him. "And so you ride with us to regain your lost youth. A chance once more to adventure, swagger, and rut again like a youngling!"
"Really? Is that why I'm here?" The man who had once been best known across all Asmarand as the Golden Griffon-the most handsome and dashing of all barons-asked mildly, as his saddle creaked under him. "In front of my daughter?"
Embra lifted her eyebrow again. "This hampered you before?"
Her father gave her a smile that held more than a touch of sadness. "I'm not one of those who shows a different face to different folk-though betimes I've been plunged into feuds and troubles for doing so. Many barons find such bright-faced acting the easiest way to rule, but 'tis a weakness that dooms them in the long run, for greater ease on this day or that."
"But what about a baron's duty to his people?" Tshamarra asked quietly.