Beyond the High Road (4 page)

“The matter is important,” said Filfaeril. “This is Azoun’s sixty-third birthday. Alusair’s absence speaks volumes, and not only to us.”

“Let us not overstate matters,” said the king. “I’m sure she has a good reason for not being here.”

Tanalasta bit her tongue, knowing it would only make her seem jealous to point out the double standard. It was perfectly fine for Alusair to vanish into the Stonelands and forgo his birthday celebration without so much as a word of apology yet it would not do for the crown princess to speak sharply to Vangerdahast. It was no wonder Tanalasta felt more at home in Huthduth’s austerity than in the luxury of her family’s palace.

The king offered his arm to Filfaeril, then turned toward the great double doors leading into the ballroom. “Vangerdahast, you will have to enter alone,” the king said, “and do keep trying to reach Alusair. I’m sure she would contact you if she needed help, but with Emperel missing….”

Vangerdahast nodded. “I’ll pass word when I reach her.”

The royal magician extended his hand toward the door, producing several loud raps. From the other side came the barked command of a guard and the muffled blare of trumpets, then the doors swung open. The king and queen stepped through to a thunderous roar of applause.

Dauneth stepped to Tanalasta’s side and offered her his arm. “If I may.”

“Of course.”

Tanalasta looped her hand through the crook of his elbow and stepped into House Marliir’s famous Rhodes Room. The huge ballroom was so packed with nobles that she could see nothing of its renowned treasures, save the gold-leafed capitals of its marble columns and the luminescent vault of its alabaster cupola. Her parents were about ten steps ahead, strolling down a plush purple runner that demarcated the Aisle of Courtesy, a small lane to be kept clear for the royals alone. They were simply nodding and waving as they passed the lesser nobles in the rear of the room, but their progress would slow to a crawl as they stopped to exchange pleasantries with the important nobles waiting in the front of the chamber near the Royal Rostrum.

Tanalasta forced a smile and followed, acutely conscious of’ the rising brows and appraising gazes that greeted her passage. She did not doubt that even the lowest baron present knew how Aunadar Bleth had tricked her into falling in love with him, then tried to seize the throne. Their applause was polite but subdued, a sure sign of the concern they felt over what would become of Cormyr when she took her father’s place. The princess continued to smile and nod, calling upon memories of green mountain meadows to remain calm and composed. The first step to restoring her reputation was to appear confident in herself, and to do that she had to be relaxed inside.

As they progressed up the Aisle of Courtesy, the wool tabards and linen smocks of the lesser nobles gave way to embroidered capes and chiffon gowns. Brass closures and pewter brooches began to appear in strategic locations, often decorated with brilliant tiger eyes or ghostly moon crystals. Dauneth greeted these men and women by name, and Tanalasta would say what a pleasure it was to make their acquaintance. They never failed to return her smile with somewhat dazed expressions, a sign the princess took to mean she was making a better impression than expected.

Tanalasta and Dauneth reached the high nobles at the front of the room, where the air smelled of sweet lavender oil and lilac water. The chamber seemed lit by the twinkle of sparkling rubies and gleaming sapphires, and the low murmur of self-important voices reverberated in the pit of her stomach. The men wore feathered caps and doublets of brilliant silk, while the women had gowned themselves in veritable yards of lace and gossamer. Unlike the lower nobles standing farther back, the lords and ladies gathered here knew the royal family well, and they did not hesitate to compliment the queen’s appearance or congratulate Azoun on another year. Tanalasta thought of mountain brooks and pushed her smile wider, then entered the gauntlet.

She turned first to the families of five young nobles who had tried to assassinate her late in the Abraxus Affair, both to show she held no grudges and to prove she did not fear them. The dukes managed to stammer out their compliments, but the duchesses were so stunned they could hardly return her greeting. Tanalasta took her leave graciously, then breathed a sigh of relief and led Dauneth down the aisle to more comfortable territory. Her friends the Wyvernspurs were next, Cat looking resplendent in pearl-white, Giogi as flamboyant and affable as always in gold-trimmed velvet.

“By the Lady, Princess!” Giogi embraced Tanalasta warmly, then stood back to admire her with a frankly lascivious gaze. “What happened? You’ve become a real beauty!”

“Giogi!” Cat slapped her mate on the shoulder, then stepped to the edge of the purple carpet to wrap her strong arms around Tanalasta. “Forgive my husband, Princess, you know what a clod he can be.”

“I will take Giogi’s compliments over a Bleth’s flattery any day,” Tanalasta laughed. She motioned to Dauneth. “You remember the good warden, I am sure.”

Cat’s eyes twinkled as she took in Dauneth’s gold-trimmed doublet, noting how it complimented Tanalasta’s amethyst gown-and how close its indigo fabric came to the royal purple.

“As handsome as ever.” Cat squeezed Tanalasta’s hand, then leaned close to whisper, “You’re a lucky woman, my dear.”

Tanalasta raised a brow, but said nothing about the hastiness of her friend’s assumption. “We’ll talk later, Cat.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Cat released her hand and curtsied. “I want to hear all about your adventures in Huthduth.”

“Adventures?” Giogi asked, looking confused. “Isn’t Huthduth a monastery?”

“It is.” Cat elbowed him in the ribs. “Take your leave, Giogi.”

Giogi bowed. “Until later, Princess.”

Tanalasta acknowledged the bow with a friendly nod, then continued up the Aisle of Courtesy. They had now closed to within a few paces of the Royal Rostrum, where Tanalasta was delighted to see the tall, white-haired figure of Alaphondar Emmarask standing slightly apart from the crowd. As the Sage Most Learned of the Royal Court, Alaphondar was Tanalasta’s instructor in law, philosophy, history, and almost everything else. The two had become far more than friends over three decades of study, though never in the way sometimes whispered in the royal halls. Hoping to have a few words with him about the blight that had delayed her journey from Huthduth, she pulled Dauneth gently forward-only to have a stumpy little woman step onto the Aisle of Courtesy and block her way.

“Princess Tanalasta, your beauty exceeds even the wildest claims of my son.”

So shocked was Tanalasta that she required a moment to comprehend what she was seeing. The woman was draped in organdy and pearls, with sapphires dangling from her earlobes and rubies glittering on every available digit-even her thumbs. Her powdered hair was piled into a spiraling tower and held in place by eight diamond hairpins arranged in a moonlike crescent. Clearly, the woman was a dame of the realm, yet she behaved as though she knew no better than to block a royal’s path.

A pair of bodyguards slipped past the princess and took positions to both sides of the woman, awaiting some sign of how to handle the situation. Tanalasta glanced at Dauneth, whose reddening face confirmed the duchess’s identity, then decided not to have the woman removed. The warden disengaged himself politely and went to his dauntless mother’s side.

“Your Highness, may I present my mother, Lady Merelda Marfiir.”

Tanalasta sensed a spreading circle of silence and knew that half the nobles of the realm were watching to see how she handled the delicate situation-and also to judge the progress of Dauneth’s courtship. The princess did not gesture the duchess to rise, but neither did she insult the woman by signaling the guards to return her to her proper place.

“Lady Marliir, how kind of you to present yourself.” As Tanalasta spoke, she glimpsed her parents at the base of the rostrum, watching in shock. “I have been looking for you. I wish to express my gratitude for hosting the king’s birthday party.”

Merelda flushed in delight. “Not at all. The pleasure is mine,” she said, rising without invitation. If the woman heard the gasps that surrounded her, her fleshy smile did not betray it. “I am so happy to meet you, my dear. Dauneth has told me so much about you.”

“Indeed?”

“Oh yes.” Oblivious to the ice in Tanalasta’s voice, Merelda glanced around to be certain her fellow noblewomen were watching, then took her son’s hand and stepped forward. “He speaks of you all the time, and only in the fondest terms, I assure you.”

Dauneth’s face turned as red as the rubies on his mother’s fingers. “Mother, please.” He clasped her hand tightly and tried unsuccessfully to draw her toward the edge of the carpet, where Raynaar Marliir stood looking on in helpless mortification. “Are you trying to disadvantage me with the princess?”

The question drew a round of good natured chuckles from everyone but Tanalasta, who was fast losing patience with Lady Marliir Evidently, the woman believed she could bend Tanalasta to her will as easily as had the traitor Aunadar Bleth. The princess glanced in her parents’ direction, silently signaling them to give her some help before she was forced to embarrass their hostess. The king started to turn toward the rostrum, which would trigger the trumpet blast calling the party to order, then glanced over Tanalasta’s shoulder at Vangerdahast and suddenly stopped.

“I am so looking forward to-“

“Don’t say it, please,” Tanalasta warned. Her sharp tone was due as much to her ire at having her signal overridden by Vangerdahast as her impatience with Lady Marliir. “It would be embarrassing-“

“Embarrassing? My dear, Dauneth dances better than that.” Merelda threw her head back and joined the other nobles in a round of laughter, then caught Tanalasta’s hand between hers. “But if you don’t approve of his footwork, you will have plenty of time to correct it-won’t you?”

The silence grew as thick as smoke, and Tanalasta found it impossible to control her mounting anger. If the king insisted on allowing Vangerdahast to countermand his daughter’s wishes, then it would be up to him to deal with the consequences. The princess jerked her hand from the woman’s grasp, and put on her most guileless smile.

“I am sorry, Duchess Marliir. I cannot follow your meaning. Are you under the impression that Dauneth and I are betrothed?”

A quiet murmur filled the room, and Lady Marliir’s smile stiffened into a cringe. Her jaw began to work fitfully, trying to string a series of disjointed syllables into some sort of explanation, but Tanalasta refused to give the woman a chance to push her further. She looked to the guards, but Dauneth was already pressing his mother into the grasp of her flabbergasted husband. Duke Marliir clamped onto his wife’s elbow and turned toward the nearest exit.

As soon as King Azoun saw what was happening, he cast the briefest glance in his daughter’s direction, so quick that only the most astute of observers would have noted the inherent reproach. Tanalasta returned the gesture with an innocent shrug. She had no wish to sour her father’s mood, lest it affect how he received the birthday gift she had brought from Huthduth, but she had to stand up for herself. If that created a problem, it was Vangerdahast’s doing and not hers.

Azoun pasted a stiff smile on his face, then disengaged himself from Filfaeril. “Lady Marliir, one moment if you please.”

The Marliirs stopped and slowly turned, Raynaar’s face flushed with embarrassment and his wife’s white with mortification. Merelda curtsied deeply and did not rise.

“Y-yes, Majesty?”

The king came down the aisle and took her by the hands. “It has just occurred to me that I have done you a small injustice.” He drew Merelda to her feet. “The royal protocol chamberlain should have invited you and Lord Marliir to walk the carpet with us.”

The woman’s eyes grew round with surprise, and another murmur, much louder than the last, filled the ballroom. “He should have?”

“Quite right,” Azoun said. “A hostess should be honored-especially the hostess of such a grand and lovely ball. I do hope you will pardon the oversight. The protocol chamberlain really is a most dutiful fellow, and it would be a shame for him to spend the rest of the tenday in a dungeon.”

The joke drew the appropriate response from everyone near enough to hear it. Lady Marliir blushed and glanced around to make certain everyone had seen her reputation restored, then Azoun kissed her hand and returned to Filfaeril’s side. The crown princess smiled diplomatically and tried not to show her seething anger. The party had been spared an unseemly scandal, but at no small cost to Tanalasta’s prestige. She could only hope her father would seize the opportunity to undo the damage when she presented her birthday gift.

Dauneth returned to Tanalasta’s side and rather stiffly offered her his arm. Feeling as ill at ease as he did, she slipped a hand through his elbow and followed her parents onto the Royal Rostrum. The trumpets blared, calling the party to order, and the ballroom quieted as they ascended the stairs.

Tanalasta’s anger gave way to thoughtfulness, and she began to wonder if someone had suggested to the poor woman that she push matters along. Of course, her suspicions fell instantly upon Vangerdahast. The old wizard had never been above helping destiny along-especially when Cormyr’s fate depended on it.

They reached the top of the rostrum and found four purple-cushioned thrones, flanked by a pair of simpler chairs for Dauneth and Vangerdahast. Azoun and Filfaeril sat in the middle thrones, and Tanalasta sat in the one to her father’s right. The royal magician dismissed the extra throne with a half-muttered word and a flick of his wrist, then pulled his chair to the queen’s side and dropped onto it heavily. He did not look in Tanalasta’s direction.

Once they were all seated, Dauneth formally welcomed the guests to his family’s home, glossing over the scene of a few moments earlier with an apt joke about the hearing of would-be grandmothers. The announcement that Princess Alusair would not be in attendance was greeted with a murmur of profound disappointment, but the warden quickly recaptured the crowd’s enthusiasm by drawing them into a rousing cycle of sixty-three hoorays-one for each of Azoun’s years. So thunderous were the cheers that they soon had Vangerdahast casting nervous glances at the ballroom’s alabaster cupola.