Troy Denning - Beyond the High Road

Vangerdahast felt the heat rising to his face, but it was impossible to disguise the reaction with both royals watching him so closely. In a voice as casual as possible, he said, “I may have pushed rather too hard, milady.”

“‘Rather too hard?’” Filfaeril demanded. “If you cast any spells on them-“

“Of course not!” Vangerdahast was truly indignant. “Would I use magic to manipulate the princess’s emotions?”

“Only as a last resort,” Azoun growled. “So tell us what you did do.”

“It was but a little thing.” Vangerdahast held up his hand, pressing together his thumb and forefinger to illustrate. “Merely a matter of a few words, really.”

“Whispered into whose ear?” Filfaeril asked. “Lady Marliir’s?”

“For one,” Vangerdahast said. “But that really isn’t important.”

“No wonder Tanalasta has so little use for you!” The king shook his head in disbelief. “That doesn’t excuse this royal temple nonsense. Half the nobles in the land will convert to Chauntea merely to win favor at court, and the other half will take up arms to defend their own faiths. How can she expect me to let this happen?”

“Because if you don’t, her reputation will be ruined,” Filfaeril said. She went over to stare into the flames, and now Vangerdahast was completely blocked off from the warmth of the fire. “Forgive me for saying so, Azoun, but I think we’re the dense ones here. Our daughter knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Azoun furrowed his brow. “Let us assume that is so-but to what purpose?”

“To force our hand, of course,” said Filfaeril. “Obviously, she does not wish to be queen.”

Vangerdahast was up and standing between the royals in an instant. “Let us not leap to conclusions, milady! No one has heard Tanalasta say any such thing.”

The queen whirled on him with a vehemence that, until that moment, had been reserved for poisoners and plotters. “What do you care, you old meddler? You’ve never wanted Tanalasta to be queen, not since the day she crawled onto Alaphondar’s lap instead of yours.”

Vangerdahast forced himself to stand fast in the face of her fury and in that moment he saw the first hint of frailty he had observed in the queen’s character in more than forty years of knowing her. It was not the princess who had reservations about ascending the throne, but Filfaeril herself who wanted Tanalasta to rebuff the crown. The queen simply could not bear the thought of the grief and sacrifice her bookish daughter would suffer in having to become something so much larger than she was by her own nature.

Had the old wizard known her feelings a year earlier, before leaving on his journey with Tanalasta, perhaps he could have honored her wishes. Filfaeril was the closest thing he had to a sister or a wife or a mistress, and he would not have hurt her for all the treasure in the Thousand Worlds, but it was too late now. Screwing on his most enigmatic glower, the wizard met the queen’s furious gaze with an angry conviction he did not quite feel.

“What you say simply is not true, milady. If I have been hard on the princess, it is only because you and the king have been too soft on her.”

Filfaeril’s eyes flashed white. “What are you saying, Magician?”

“That you spoiled your daughter, Majesty-a sin pardonable enough, except that she happened to be the crown princess of Cormyr.”

“How dare you!”

Filfaeril’s hand flew up so quickly that it would surely have sent Vangerdahast sprawling, had Azoun not caught her wrist.

“Not yet, my dear.” Azoun’s eyes were as angry as those of his wife. “First, I’d like him to explain himself.”

Breathing an inward sigh of relief, Vangerdahast turned to the king and inclined his head. Azoun, at least, would not strike unless he meant to kill.

“It is simple enough, Highness,” he said. “Between childhood and adulthood is rebellion. You and the queen have been loving parents but not stern, and so your daughters had no one to rebel against. I am privileged to be that person for Tanalasta.”

“So you have been deliberately provoking her?” Filfaeril demanded.

“Quite,” Vangerdahast said, almost proudly. “I would say I’ve done rather well, wouldn’t you?”

Again, Azoun’s quick hand was all that kept the queen’s fist from knocking the old wizard off his feet. Vangerdahast’s heart broke a little as he realized that the fury in her eyes would not soon fade. Still, one sometimes had to pay a steep price for always being right.

“I want it stopped,” said Azoun. “It isn’t working anyway.”

“I’m afraid it can’t be stopped.” Vangerdahast did not relish saying that to the king. “Now that it has been stirred, Tanalasta’s fury will not simply fade away-not when it has been corked up inside her for twenty years. This thing will have to run its course now, and it’s better that she is angry at me than at you. That way, we avoid the possibility of treason.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Filfaeril screeched. “Treason? From Tanalasta?”

“That won’t happen,” Vangerdahast assured her. “As I said, matters are well under control. Tanalasta will develop into a splendid queen.”

“Like bloody hell she will!” Azoun said. “I suppose the next thing you’ll tell me is that I should let her have this Royal Temple of Chauntea?”

“Of course not. I didn’t expect that.” Vangerdahast was struggling to keep hold of his own patience. “But I’ll have to be the one to deal with it. If you start trying to deny her at this stage-“

“I am the king!” Azoun roared. “I’ll do what’s best for Cormyr, and if that means telling the crown princess she can’t have a royal temple to play with, then I will!”

“To ‘play with?’” Vangerdahast rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’m talking about. She’s not a little girl, Majesty. She’s a thirty-six year old princess who needs a suitable husband-and fast.”

“I don’t like this, Azoun.” Filfaeril turned from the fireplace and started across the room, toward the door that led to their suite of rooms. “What does a wizard know about raising children? I understand my daughter. She doesn’t want to be queen, and I say we don’t make her. Alusair is a year younger anyway.”

“Alusair?” Vangerdahast gasped, finally losing control of himself. “And who is going to make her be queen? She doesn’t want it at all, and I couldn’t even begin to address her problems.”

“Vangerdahast’s right about that, I’m afraid.” Azoun was speaking to his wife’s departing back. “If we don’t want to make Tanalasta do it, it’s hardly fair to make Alusair do it either.”

“Then perhaps you will have to father another heir, my husband, one that Vangerdahast can mold into a proper monarch.” Filfaeril’s voice was as icy as her glare. “But I fear you will need a younger queen for that. One a decade the junior of your daughters, so you can be certain of the matter.”

Filfaeril turned and pulled the door shut behind her.

Azoun sighed and sank into the chair she had vacated, then tossed his crown onto the floor and began to rub his forehead.

“Vangerdahast, please tell me that you have some idea what you’re doing here.”

“Of course, Sire. You may recall that I helped guide you through-“

The wizard was interrupted by nervous rapping at the door, then Alaphondar Emmarask poked his head into the chamber. His long white hair was more disheveled than usual, and the expression on his face was atypically frazzled.

“Pray excuse my interruption, Sire, but a rather spontaneous flood of high priests seems to be, well, appearing in the Marliir courtyard.”

“No doubt offering to establish Royal Temples of their own,” Azoun surmised.