Beyond the High Road (17 page)

Tanalasta pointed toward the ribbon. “I assume Orc’s Pool is rather bloody looking?”

“That would be correct. Are you certain those spell-beggars in Huthduth didn’t make a diviner out of you?”

Tanalasta frowned, trying to decide whether the wizard was mocking her or trying to compliment her. “It’s just common sense.”

“I’ve heard that’s all priestly divination is,” the wizard replied. “Now, real magic-“

‘Would do us no good, under the circumstances,” said Tanalasta. “And I would like you to stop referring to my friends as ‘spell-beggars.’”

Vangerdahast tipped his head. “As you command, Princess.”

They reached the ravine bottom and crossed a mat of mossy grass to the water’s edge, then tested its temperature with their fingers before mounting and riding across. On the far side, they followed the scarlet brook up a small, gently-sloping vale. Though no vegetation grew within two paces of the creek, a luxuriant growth of grass covered the walls of the valley, and the stench changed from brimstone-and-iron to just iron. Once Tanalasta grew accustomed to the odor and no longer associated it with blood, she actually found the smell tolerable.

At length, they reached the end of the valley, where the brook spilled over a rocky headwall from a steaming basin above. When no sentries emerged to greet or challenge them, they tethered their horses to a wild mulberry tree and crept the rest of the way on foot, mindful of the possibility that an orc tribe-or something worse-had forced Alusair to abandon the rendezvous. They found nothing but a small pool of blood-colored water, ringed on all sides by a boulder-strewn collar of green grass and low cliffs of rusty red basalt.

“This is Orc’s Pool?” Tanalasta asked.

“Of course. How many red pools do you think there are in the Stonelands?”

Tanalasta frowned. “Now that you mention it, Gaspaeril Gofar’s treatise mentioned over sixty bodies of iron-tinted water.”

“This is the one,” Vangerdahast said. “I recognize it.”

The wizard clambered over the headwall and led the way toward a ring of boulders on the southern shore of the pool. As they crossed the meadow, Tanalasta noticed a single square yard of freshly-turned ground. Leaving Vangerdahast to continue on his own, she stopped to examine it. The stones had been carefully removed from the dirt and piled along the edges, and there was a small dimple in the center where the soil had been wetted by a cupful of water.

From up ahead, Vangerdahast called, “They’re here-at least someone is.”

Tanalasta went to join the wizard at the circle of stones. As she approached, she smelled a familiar haylike odor and saw the broom of a horse’s tail swing out from behind a boulder.

“Alusair?” she called.

“I don’t think so,” answered Vangerdahast.

Tanalasta stepped around the boulder to find a hidden, well-used camp large enough to accommodate a company of twenty people. At the present time, there was only a tethered horse and Vangerdahast, seated on the saddle that had been taken from the beast’s back. A pair of dusty boots sat on the ground next to him, and he was going through the pockets of a tunic and breeches that had been left beside a neatly folded traveling cape.

“Vangerdahast, what do you think you’re doing?” Tanalasta demanded.

“Trying to find out who this belongs to,” the wizard replied, “and whether or not he’s one of Alusair’s boys.”

“He is.”

The voice came from behind Tanalasta, so close that it made her scream and leap into the air. She came down facing the speaker, clutching a sharp stone she had been carrying in lieu of her magic dagger. The man was naked and wet, with shoulder-length hair and skin still flushed from the heat of the pool, and he didn’t look half-bad. In fact, he looked more than half-good, with dark hair and darker eyes, chiseled features, and a proud chin with just a hint of a cleft. He had shoulders as broad as a door, arms the size of Tanalasta’s thighs, not even a hint of a belly, and… she blushed, for it was not every day that a princess saw such sights.

“Your Highness, forgive me!” The man sounded mortified. Still holding his sword and scabbard, he lowered his hands and covered himself. “I wasn’t expecting you with the stonemurk today, and I was availing myself of the water when I heard someone approaching.”

When Tanalasta did not reply, the man tried to slip past. “I do beg your forgiveness, Princess, but we’ve lost a few men on this journey, and I had to be cautious.”

It finally dawned on Tanalasta that she was staring. “On my honor!” The princess let the stone drop from her hand and turned away, her face burning as though she were the one who had just climbed from the pool’s steaming waters. “P-please, think no more of it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Tanalasta saw Vangerdahast smile.

“Well then, maybe this trip was worth it after all,” said the wizard. He passed the man his clothes. “And who might you be, son?”

“My name is Rowen,” the man said. Tanalasta heard the snap of pant legs being flapped open. “Rowen Cormaeril.”

Tanalasta felt the blood rush from her cheeks even more quickly than it had rushed into them. She turned, slowly, to find the man now standing in tunic and breeches.

“Of… of relation to Gaspar Cormaeril?” she asked.

Rowen nodded. “Gaspar was my cousin, and as great a traitor to our family as he was to the realm.”

Tanalasta’s heart fell. Along with Aunadar Bleth, Gaspar Cormaeril had been one of the ringleaders in the Abraxus Affair. As punishment for his prominent role, her father had seized the lands of the entire Cormaeril family.

When Tanalasta could not find the words to express her dismay, Rowen bowed deeply and did not rise. “I apologize for vexing you with my presence, Majesty. Had it been possible, I’m certain the Princess Alusair would have sent someone else.”

“I doubt it,” growled Vangerdahast. The wizard looked to Tanalasta and shook his head. “She couldn’t have been happy to hear from you. This is her way of showing it.”

“Must you always think the worst of people, Lord Magician?” Tanalasta went over to Rowen. “I’m sure she sent Sir Rowen because she knew him to be the best man for the job.”

The princess presented her hand to Rowen, who was so startled that he looked up and did not take it. She smiled and nodded, holding it in place. Somewhat reluctantly, he took her hand by the fingers and brushed his lips to the back.

“Only Rowen, Majesty,” he said. “My title was taken with the family lands.”

“Just Rowen, then.” Tanalasta noticed Vangerdahast rolling his eyes and shot him a frown, then gestured for Rowen to rise. “Tell me, Rowen, is that your Faith Planting I noticed at the edge of the meadow?”

Rowen’s eyes grew as round as coins. “Yes, Majesty, it is-but I’m surprised you know that. I didn’t think anyone but Children of Chauntea would recognize it.”

Tanalasta smiled. “They wouldn’t-and please, don’t call me Majesty. Tanalasta will do.”

Vangerdahast hoisted himself to his feet. “By the Blue Dragon!” he cursed. “Alusair sends us a groundsplitter!”

The cabbage had already started to go, the big leaves curling and turning brown along the edges, the immature heads wilting open. A tall beggar in a ragged cape was striding across the field diagonally, paying no heed to the angry free farmer hurling insults and dirt clods in his direction. In the dusky light, the intruder was a mere silhouette half again as tall as a man, with a lurching gait and beady red eyes just bright enough to be seen beneath his billowing hood.

“That’s the signal,” Azoun whispered. “He has them.”

“Well done, Sire,” said Dauneth Marliir. “It will be good to be done with these rabble.”

“They’re hardly rabble, Lord Warden.” Azoun eased his horse into the shadows beneath a young ash. “They’re trying to help.”

“Yes, but help whom?” Dauneth followed him into the shadows. “I am sure it has occurred to His Majesty that they might be spreading this alarm purposely, to win support for their royal temple. And I must say it’s working. As matters stand now, the blight could spoil half the fields in the realm and the peasants would still hold these seed fingers as heroes.”

A dozen riders burst from the woods on the other side of the field and started across at a full gallop, yelling promises of restitution as they passed. The beggar, now only a few paces from the ambush site, paid his pursuers no attention and continued forward at the same even stride.

“If the blight takes half the fields in the realm, perhaps they would be heroes,” said Azoun. “It would certainly mean we have not been seeing to our duties, Lord Warden. Besides, Owden and his priests are not the only ones who have seen the blight-spreader.”

“Indeed-the peasants see the fellow everywhere,” said Dauneth. “In Bospir, they burned another tinker at the stake this morning-and he wasn’t even tall. This one just happened to be wearing a black cloak when a free farmer saw him doing his business by the side of the road.”

Azoun winced. That was the seventh lynching he had heard of in the last three days, and the rate seemed to be increasing. Perhaps he should have listened to Dauneth two days ago and sent a squad of war wizards to track down the “Badgeless Maces” then, but he had not wanted to embarrass Tanalasta by returning her friends to Arabel in shackles. Moreover, he had regarded Dauneth’s motives as somewhat suspect, fearing the young lord had made the suggestion out of anger at Tanalasta.

Of course, Azoun should have known better. The High Warden was too loyal to let his personal feelings interfere with duty. The priests had indeed created the panic Dauneth feared, and now innocent people were being killed. The king was almost relieved to find his own judgment in this matter less sound than that of the High Warden, it suggested that Dauneth was not holding a grudge, and the throne had need of a loyal warden in Arabel. Once they brought Owden Foley and the “Badgeless Maces” under control, perhaps Azoun could even declare the damage wrought by Tanalasta undone.

The red-eyed beggar lurched past Azoun’s hiding place and disappeared into the trees at the rear of the small clearing, the Badgeless Maces close behind. A row of Purple Dragons emerged from the trees to meet the company of priests. The dragoneers wore their visors raised and held their lances posted on their stirrup rests, but their grim expressions left no doubt that they were present on a serious matter. The Badgeless Maces hauled back on their reins, barely managing to bring their mounts to a stop before the dragoneers.

As confused as they were, the priests remained determined to capture their quarry. A handful tried to ease through the Purple Dragons only to find their way blocked by a lowered lance. Several more wheeled around to circle the line, only to find another row of dragoneers emerging from the trees to block their way. Even then, it did not seem to occur to the priests that this was anything more than a chance meeting.

“What are you doing?” Owden gestured into the woods where the tall beggar had disappeared. “After that man! He’s a danger to the land!”

“Hardly.” Merula the Marvelous stepped out of the wood, his eyes still glowing red and the hood of his black cloak now pulled down on his collar “I am not the one riding about the north, scaring witless peasants half-to-death with tales of dark phantoms and impending famine.”

Owden’s shoulders slumped, then he lowered his mace and fixed his gaze on the portly wizard. “Merula the Massive? Explain yourself! You’re interfering with a royal commission charged with a matter of the highest urgency.”

“Really?” Azoun urged his horse out of his hiding place behind the priests, bringing with him Dauneth Marliir and the final rank of Purple Dragons. “Strange, I do not recall commissioning a company of ‘Badgeless Maces’ into the Purple Dragons.”

The entire band of priests wheeled at once, their faces paling at the sight of Azoun’s battle-crowned helm.

“Majesty!”

Owden swung out of his saddle, then knelt on the ground and bowed his head. His priests followed half a step behind, moving so quickly that several overcautious dragoneers lowered their lances.

Azoun motioned the lances up again, then continued to look at Owden and his priests. “In fact, I don’t recall commissioning any company of priests at all, nor charging them with …” He looked to Dauneth. “What was the phrase, Lord Warden?”

“I believe it was ‘A matter of the highest urgency,’ Sire.”

“Ah yes.” Azoun repeated the phrase as though trying to refresh his memory then shook his head. “No, I’m quite certain I never said such a thing.”

Owden dared to raise his head. “Forgive my presumption, Majesty, but we, ah, assumed the title.”

“Assumed, Harvestmaster Owden?” asked Merula. He stepped to Owden’s side, then glanced in Dauneth’s direction. “That would make you an imposter, you know. It would make you all impostors.”

The king bit his tongue, trying desperately to hide a sudden surge of anger. Merula was doing his best to place Owden in the untenable position of confessing to the impersonation of a royal agent, or admitting that Tanalasta had defied the king’s order. Apparently, the wizard remained concerned about the War Wizards’ future after Tanalasta took the throne-this despite Azoun’s personal guarantee that their position would be secure no matter who succeeded him.

“Perhaps it was Princess Tanalasta who commissioned you, Harvestmaster?” Merula continued to look at Dauneth.

Azoun forced himself to keep an impassive face and stay silent. The matter fell under the purview of the Lord High Warden, and any interference from the king would be taken either as a sign of favor to the priests, or as a lack of confidence in the crown princess’s obedience to duty.

“I am sorry to say that Princess Tanalasta did not commission us.” Owden addressed himself directly to Azoun. “You see, Sire, it was something of an emergency. We happened across a free farmer who had seen the blight-bearer-“

“This tall beggar you have been asking about,” said Azoun, happy for any pretext to take control of the conversation. “You know, of course, that your inquiries have created a panic.”

“I apologize, Majesty,” Owden said, plucking at his purple cape, “but that is the reason for our disguises. We had hoped the inquiries of a company of Purple Dragons would seem less conspicuous.”