“Your Majesty, I will,” Sagrast said. She extended her hand, and he kissed it and knelt.
Gantharla sighed. “Ah, yes… the kneeling part. Get up and take up your sword. Rise as Royal Steward and loyal subject, and may you bear both duties as long as the gods give you just strength to do so.”
She turned her head to look at Baerauble. “Lord wizard-if that is indeed what I should call you-the Royal Steward has knelt to me. What will I say to those who refuse to kneel to a queen and insist that only a man can rightfully sit on the Dragon Throne?”
The old, gaunt wizard smiled at her. “Two things, lady. First tell them that I, Baerauble, have stood by the realm since its founding. I was there when Faerlthann was crowned, and I swore then to serve the Crown of Cormyr, not the King of Cormyr. So long as the crown rests on a head Obarskyr-born, Cormyr endures.”
Gantharla closed her eyes and shuddered as if in relief. “I may live to see this year end, then,” she said quietly, and then opened her eyes and asked, “And the second thing?”
Slowly, and in evident discomfort, the old wizard sagged toward the flagstones. “You may tell them that the Royal Steward of the Realm and the Lord Wizard of Cormyr knelt to you and kissed your hand in fealty.”
There were tears in the queen’s eyes as the old wizard went to his knees. “Rise, rise,” she said swiftly, extending her hand to him.
As he kissed it, Iltharl said quietly, “There is one thing more.”
They all turned to look at him, and he said, “Tell them I named you my heir and bade those who dispute my just right to do this to set forth their arguments in writing. They may bring them to the elven court of Cormanthor. I shall refute such entreaties in writing, for I have some small talent that can still serve the realm.”
Gantharla laughed until she wept, and Iltharl laughed with her. Shaking her head, the queen asked, “Brother, how did you ever find it in you to do this?”
Iltharl looked at his sister and sighed deeply. “It took little time to see I was not serving Cormyr well. It took a little longer to see what I must do. It took a very long time to find the… stomach to do it, especially with all the schemers plotting treason. It was fascinating to watch them work.” He turned his head and added, “And I mean that, Sagrast, with no ill will or sarcasm.” Looking back at his sister, he said, “I wish you luck. I really wanted to be a hero… but it was just… beyond me.”
Baerauble put a hand on Iltharl’s shoulder. “The gods do not grant to all of us the shining mantle of the hero,” he said softly. “Do what you can, and that will be enough.”
The former King of Cormyr managed a weak smile. “Words that should go on my headstone. Come, we should present the new queen to her people before they hurt themselves worrying.”
The four walked out of the throne room and stunned the red-jerkined guards, who were the first common citizens to look upon their new queen. Their swords clattered down in unison, making a crash that brought the whole assemblage gathered in the Great Hall to a halt. People gaped at them in silence for a long moment-and then, from across the chamber, a forester in mottled green cried out, “Long live the queen! Long prosper Cormyr and us all-and long live Queen Gantharla!”
Others took up the cry, and the keep shook with the shouts as Iltharl shook his head ruefully and Gantharla beamed.
In a voice that was thick with emotion, the new queen said, “I-I think I’m going to enjoy this!”
Baerauble smiled. “Ah, well, you’re young yet. There’ll be time enough to discover what it’s truly like.”
But in the swelling cheering, as folk streamed into the keep from Suzail and someone started wildly ringing the signal bells, no one but Sagrast heard the wizard’s words. He opened his mouth to say something, but Baerauble winked at him, and he shut his mouth again and kept silence for many long years.
Chapter 13: Affairs of State
Year of the Gauntlet (1369 DR)
The morning sun reached through the window to tinge his beard with gold as Vangerdahast went slowly down on knees that protested every inch of the descent and said formally, “The gods watch over thee, Lady Highness.”
The crown princess frowned down at him. “Get up, Lord Vangerdahast. There’s hardly need for that-or for this oh-so-private meeting!” She cast an annoyed look at the closed door on the west wall of Brightsun Bower, where she knew a war wizard stood keeping her Aunadar at bay. “You know I’ve little liking for secrets, lord wizard, so…”
She made a gesture-as imperious as her father’s-indicating that he should speak. Now.
Vangerdahast rose. “This must be said in private, High Lady, for both our sakes and the sake of the realm. I am sworn, upon my oath and signature, to serve Cormyr. I will do so in whatever way the realm needs me, but wherever possible I shall continue to obey the Obarskyr king… or the Obarskyr heir.”
Tanalasta frowned but said nothing, waving at him to continue.
“If, High Lady, you feel you’re not yet ready to take the throne,” the Royal Magician said gently, “and the unfortunate event of your father’s going to the gods does come to pass, I want you to know-more than that, I’m obligated to inform you-that you can call on me. I am both willing and capable of serving Cormyr as regent.”
Tanalasta’s face went as white as new-fallen snow, and her eyes blazed. Vangerdahast saw bright tears well up in her eyes, but she bit her quivering lip and visibly summoned her self-control, drawing in a deep breath and putting her hand out to clasp the back of a nearby chair. In an instant, her slim fingers went white on its gilded curves.
“Loyal sir,” she said shortly, “our deep thanks for this news. I’ll… consider the matter.” Her eyes burned into him as if she heartily wished he’d fall to the floor, blazing, and be gone forever.
Vangerdahast stood unflinching in the face of her royal rage. So the lass did have her father’s fire, after all. That was good! He said softly,” ‘Twould be best for the realm, lady, if you consider not overlong.”
“You may go, lord wizard,” she replied coldly and flung out her arm to point at the door in the west wall. “And take your war wizard with you.”
Vangerdahast bowed. “Bright morning shine upon you, Lady Highness.”
Her only reply was a curt nod, her eyes two hard points. The Royal Magician turned and strode toward the door.
“My father still lives, wizard,” she growled under her breath behind him, just loud enough for him to hear. “You’d do well to remember that.”
“I never presume overmuch, High Lady,” he told the door pleasantly as be laid his hand upon it. “The realm can ill afford such presumption.” And he went out.
He gave the same pleasant smile to the curious frown that Aunadar Bleth sent his way, then signaled the war wizard Halansalim to accompany him.
Three chambers away, he halted abruptly and told the war wizard, “The crown princess is furious with me just now. Take yourself into yonder robing room and hold this!” And he put an ivory dove figurine into Halansalim’s hand.
“I hear voices,” the bearded old mage told him.
“Listen to them, and this evening tell me what orders concerning me, the war wizards, or any court officials or changes in rulership the princess utters. The magic will last until highsun, so long as she doesn’t remove the ring she’s now wearing.”
Halansalim bowed silently and made for the door of the robing room. Vangerdahast strode on, heading for the Roaring Dragon Stair at a fast, rolling pace. He had an important appointment to keep.
The broad, sunlit stair led down to the Trumpet Gate of the palace, which faced the sprawling court at the base of the hill, and gave onto the road between them hard by the Crown Bridge. Ahead lay the court stables, and beyond the stables, all along the southern shore of Lake Azoun, sprawled the vast, many-towered bulk of the court. Bhereu had been taken this way already, to lie in state in the busy Marble Forehall, passed by folk crossing and crisscrossing the mirror-polished pavement between the Inner Ward, the Duskene Chamber, the Retiring Rooms, the Rooms of State, no fewer than four grand staircases that all descended into the forehall, and the Sword Portal.