The dwarven brew was very bitter. Vangerdahast drank little, but Azoun and Torg shared a few mugs as they discussed the arrangement of troops. Messengers came and went, and scouts were sent to search for the Zhentish force. The afternoon passed, and still there was no sign of the Zhentish troops.
Torg left Azoun and Vangerdahast alone in the pavilion shortly after sunset, promising to return as soon as he'd located the missing patrol. Using a spell, Vangerdahast contacted Filfaeril, but she had heard little from the Zhentish of late.
"The only news is that Lythrana Dargor, that beautiful envoy who visited with us right before you left, might be assigned to Cormyr as a permanent ambassador," said the conjured, misty image of the queen. "She has nothing but praise for you, Your Highness. Don't you think she was quite attractive, Vangy?" she asked, though the question was more of a barb aimed at her husband.
"Ah, you've found me out, my love," sighed Azoun mockingly. "Who could have guessed that I'd throw you over for a Zhentish envoy."
With a slight grunt, Vangerdahast pushed himself to his feet. "This spell takes too much energy from me for you two to be spending it this way," he grumbled. "My apologies, Your Highnesses, but-unless there's some other matters of state to discuss-we must end this."
The laughter faded from Filfaeril's ice-blue eyes. "Things here are quiet. Not a grumble from the trappers." After a pause, she added, "Take care, my husband, and do not worry about our kingdom."
"We'll speak again soon," the king replied. The misty image of the queen dissipated, and the pavilion grew quiet.
For more than an hour, the Cormyrian king sat at the long table, toying with an empty mug. Upon closer study, he noticed that the fine silver drinking cups were engraved with grisly scenes of war. Dwarves battled pig-snouted orcs and shorter creatures Azoun recognized as goblins. On another mug, dwarven warriors carried skulls into a vast cavern and stacked them in neat pyramids.
Without looking at his advisor, the king asked, "Is there some way for you to find the Zhentish troops with your magic?"
The wizard sat at the other end of the table, facing the king. His head lolled to one side in a fitful doze. He snorted awake at the king's question. "Eh?" he mumbled. "The troops from the Keep have arrived?"
Azoun smiled and, after a final glance at the strange engravings, set his mug down. "It's getting rather late," he said. "We should either help look for the missing dwarves or try to contact the Zhentish army."
Rubbing his eyes, Vangerdahast said, "You know that dwarves hate magic almost as much as they hate water. Allowing you to contact the queen was risky enough, thank you. Perhaps we should just return to the Welleran." The wizard stretched and motioned toward the pavilion's open door. "At least I could get a good night's-"
A strangled gasp escaped Vangerdahast's lips. The three lanterns that hung from the pavilion's supports cast enough light on his face to reveal that it had gone stark white. His mouth hung open a little in obvious astonishment, and his eyes were wide with surprise.
Azoun turned to see what had shocked the royal magician so. His hand slipped automatically to his sword, but when the king saw the armor-clad figure in the doorway, he felt his arm fall limp at his side. Unlike Vangerdahast, Azoun managed to whisper a single name: "Alusair."
A slight, devilish smile crept across the face of the woman in the doorway. She nodded slightly and said, "Hello, Father. It's been quite a long time."
8
Princess Alusair of House Obarskyr smiled and held out her hands to her father. Still numb from the surprise meeting, King Azoun hurried to his daughter and embraced her tightly. After a moment, he pulled back and studied her face.
In the four years since she'd left Suzail, Alusair had changed quite a bit. Now twenty-five, the princess was possessed of a mature beauty. A few wrinkles gathered at the corners of her oak-brown eyes, and her golden hair haloed her face like morning sunlight. Smiling, the princess stepped back from Azoun and said, "Well, where's the anger I expected?"
The king continued to stare. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if she was an illusion or if this was merely a dream. "I–I haven't had time to be angry, Allie." He choked back a tear and dropped his eyes. "Your mother and I… we hoped you weren't…"
"Dead?" The princess laughed and moved to the table. "Hardly. I've been in some tight spots in the last four years, but never that close to the realm of Lord Cyric. The God of Death will have to wait awhile for me."
By now, sufficient time had passed for Vangerdahast to recover from the shock of seeing Alusair, too. "You ungrateful little snipe! I ought to blast you into pieces for the worry you've caused your family!" The wizard curled his hands into tight fists and practically shook with rage.
Alusair moved farther into the tent and sighed. "I've missed you, too, Vangy." The wizard scowled and looked away. A shadow of anger crossed the princess's features, but she quickly brought up another subject.
"How is Mother? And Tanalasta?" Alusair filled a mug with strong dwarven ale and set it down.
Azoun returned to his place at the long, low table. "Your mother and sister are both fine. Worried about you, of course." He rubbed his eyes and gestured to the camp outside. "What are you doing here?"
With a slight groan, Alusair opened the clasps on her brassards, the armor on her arms. "I've been helping King Torg defend his land against some ambitious orcs and goblins from the north." She slipped the heavy plate off her arms and let it fall to the pavilion's grass floor.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Azoun looked to Vangerdahast for direction. The wizard had turned to face the conversation again, but his features were clouded with anger. "So how did you elude my wizards for all this time?" the king asked at last.
Alusair undid the straps of the cuirass that protected her chest. "It really wasn't that difficult," she said, glancing at Vangerdahast. "No offense to Vangy, but this was all I needed."
The princess dropped the cuirass beside the brassards, then held up her left hand. A bright gold band hugged her ring finger. "I bought it from a mage in Ravens Bluff. A spell on the ring makes it impossible for someone to detect my whereabouts through magical means."
"I knew it had to be something foolish like that," Vangerdahast grumbled.
The king looked closely at Alusair's hands as she adjusted the padded doublet she wore under her armor. They were grimy with sweat and hardened from years of gripping a sword, but that was not what Azoun noticed. "Where is your signet ring?" the king demanded.
Her smile fled completely, and Alusair sat down at the low dwarven table. She moved stiffly, not surprising since she'd not removed the brichette from her hips or the cuisses from her legs. "I threw it away, dropped it into the sea."
"Why?" Azoun snapped as he stood. "That ring could have saved your life. It identified you as a princess of House Obarskyr."
"Which is exactly why I had to get rid of it. I didn't want a bounty hunter to capture me and try to ransom me back to Cormyr." The princess took a long, slow swallow of ale.
"So you tossed your heritage into the sea?" In the quiet minute that followed the rebuke, Azoun slumped into his chair. "Make me understand, Allie. Why?"
"I told you, I didn't want someone to blackmail the family. I don't think you realize how much danger you put me in by offering a reward for my return."
Azoun shook his head and waved his hand angrily. "No, no. Why did you run away in the first place?"
After another sip of the ale, Alusair leaned forward, her head resting on her hand. "The note I left should have explained everything, Father. I just couldn't stand it at court any longer. You and Mother were always tied up with some petty political problem, Tanalasta spent more time worrying about fashion than the state of the country." She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers. "I don't want to go over all of this again."