Death of the Dragon

27

The huge refectory doors swung open, and the first nobles filed into the sparse room looking confused and uneasy. Each was accompanied by two dragoneers, one to carry his scabbards, jewelry, purse, and anything else that might conceal a weapon, the other to stand guard over him with a bared sword. When they saw the four dining tables placed together in the center of the room and the unadorned benches upon which they were being asked to sit, their expressions changed from apprehension to irritation.

Tanalasta, seated opposite her mother at the center of the table, stood as the first lords drew near. Her purpose today was not to assert her authority but to win the hearts and minds of Cormyr’s nobles, just as her efforts to care for the refugees had won the love of the common people. Queen Filfaeril remained seated in her throne, which was the only trapping of royal privilege in the room. The queen would be representing the crown, not to direct the proceeding but to bestow the royal blessing on whatever occurred there that day.

Young Orvendel Rallyhorn, wide-eyed and pale, was shown to a seat a little down from the queen. Because Urthrin Rallyhorn was already in the north fighting at King Azoun’s side and Korvarr was needed to oversee the guards, Queen Filfaeril had insisted that the awkward youth speak on behalf of his family today. That he did not yet know of her command accounted, perhaps, for his queasy aspect and trembling hands.

Tanalasta gave the boy a reassuring smile, then forced herself to nod politely as Emlar Goldsword came to stand next to the youth. The arrangement was no accident. The princess had intentionally arranged the seating to break up cliques and power blocs. Emlar returned Tanalasta’s nod with a spiteful glare, showing no curiosity about the manner of his summons nor the unusual site of the meeting. She wondered just how extensive his spy network was.

When the last noble had been shown to his seat-or hers, for there were more than a few matriarchs in the gathering-it was one of the neutral lords, Melot Silversword, who turned to glower at Tanalasta.

“Your assassins were not fast enough?” he demanded. “Or have you decided it will be more expedient to arrest and exile us?”

“No one is under arrest, Lord Melot. You are entirely free to leave.” Tanalasta glanced down the huge table in both directions, then let her gaze linger a moment on Emlar Goldsword. “You all are.”

A few brows rose, but there were too few friends seated next to each other for the resulting murmur to be more than gentle. Tanalasta allowed a moment for any noble who wished to leave to do so, but it was a mere ploy to make them feel they were attending of their own will. No one would leave before hearing the reason for her unusual summons. Of that she felt certain.

When none of the lords surprised her, Tanalasta nodded. “Good. I apologize for bringing you here under guard, but I wanted to be certain you arrived alive.”

She motioned them to sit, not bothering to elaborate. The rash of assassinations had continued unabated for well over a tenday now, and the ghazneths, starved for magic by Tanalasta’s ban, had begun to attack nobles in search of hidden magic items. That the creatures had an uncanny knack for assailing only lords who insisted on safeguarding their own magic suggested to Tanalasta that their spy was well-placed indeed. She had heard that Emlar Goldsword had another, more mercenary explanation.

After the nobles took their seats, Tanalasta continued to stand. “I summoned you because, as nobles of the realm, I thought you should be the first to hear some devastating news received by the palace just this hour. Arabel has fallen to the orcs.”

A few of the nobles cringed and closed their eyes, suggesting that Tanalasta’s words were mere confirmation of the rumors they had already heard through other sources. Most, including Emlar Goldsword, simply let their jaws drop and stared at the princess in shock. Only Orvendel Rallyhorn, staring around the table with an expression that could best be described as smug, did not seem shocked.

“What… what of the king?” asked Lady Calantar.

Still puzzled by Orvendel’s reaction, Tanalasta tore her eyes from the youth and turned to the noblewoman, whose winsome face had gone as gray as ash. The question was, of course, foremost on the mind of every lord and lady in the room. With Emlar Goldsword and his followers standing in more or less open opposition to the crown princess, the king’s death would bring Cormyr to the brink of civil war and all but assure a “stabilizing” invasion by Sembian mercenaries.

Tanalasta was about to answer when Emlar Goldsword cut her off. “The king is alive.” He stared directly at the princess as he spoke. “If the king were dead, do you think I would not have joined him already? The princess’s assassins have proved themselves most capable.”

Tanalasta was careful not to nod. “The king is well, as is the Steel Princess. If they were not, Lord Goldsword would be in Prisoner’s Tower, not a grave.” She resisted the urge to accuse the coward of trying to put the blame for his tactics on her. If this meeting degenerated into a shouting match between her faction and Goldsword’s, Cormyr was lost. “I have called this council to inform you of the crown’s decision to send its remaining troops north to reinforce the survivors from Arabel.”

The room broke into an immediate uproar, and several of the guards stationed behind each noble stepped forward to push a protesting lord back to his seat. Only Emlar and his supporters remained quiet, some studying Tanalasta and clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop, others ohserving her with an air of self-righteous satisfaction-convinced, apparently, that Arabel’s fall would force her to accept Sembia’s offer.

The princess watched Orvendel watch the others, his eyes wide and the corners of his mouth curled up almost unnoticeably. The youth was enjoying this. Why? Because it made him feel important? Tanalasta gestured for quiet. Under the gentle prodding of the dragoneer guards, the chamber slowly fell silent.

As soon as the tumult had died, Lord Longbrooke said, “This is outrageous!” He was so angry that even his heavy jowls were red. “You’ll leave the south undefended.”

“That is for this council to decide,” said Tanalasta. “A small garrison will remain to defend the royal palace and keep order in Suzail, but the rest is up to the nobles.”

“This-this-this is coercion!” sputtered Longbrooke. “We’ll not stand for it.”

“The crown’s troops are the crown’s to do with as it pleases,” said Tanalasta. “The first companies are marching north even as we speak. The decision before this body is a simple one. Will the nobles stand and fight, surrender to the ghazneths, or invite an invasion from Sembia?”

Finally, Goldsword smirked. “You would condone their help?”

“I would not,” said Tanalasta.

“Nor would the crown,” said Queen Filfaeril. She leaned forward to look down the table toward Goldsword. “At the moment, however, the crown has no more say over that than this council has over the disposition of the Purple Dragons and war wizards. You will do what you will do, and we’ll all live with the consequences. There are, however, some things you should know.”

Filfaeril leaned back in her throne and nodded to Tanalasta.

“Giogi Wyvernspur remains poised on the border and will invade Sembia the instant their mercenaries cross into Cormyr,” the princess said, “under any circumstances. He lacks a large enough force to win a victory, of course, but we all know how tenacious Lord Wyvernspur can be when he gets to bulling around. I shouldn’t be surprised if he managed to destroy every bridge in the realm and set half the cities ablaze before the Sembians finally tracked him down.”

“Then call him off,” said Goldsword.

Filfaeril’s answer was simple and plain. “No.”

Goldsword’s face began to redden, and Tanalasta continued, “There are also the Letters of Marque to consider.”

“Letters of Marque?” It was Longbrooke who asked this.

Tanalasta turned to Hector Dauntinghorn, Commodore of the Imperial Flotilla based in Marsember. He was attending both in his capacity as a naval officer and as a representative of the Dauntinghorn family, his uncle being in the north with half the family retainers and King Azoun.

“After Ambassador Hovanay’s visit, the crown issued Letters of Marque to every ship loyal to Cormyr,” Hector explained. “In the event of a Sembian invasion, they are to consider any vessel flying a Sembian flag or entering or leaving a Sembian port as an enemy. In the event of said invasion, they are authorized to capture or sink every such vessel they encounter and keep all booty recovered.”

Goldsword’s eyes narrowed. “You would plunge Cormyr into a second war rather than accept aid in winning this one?”

“The crown would fight a second war rather than let its nobles sell the kingdom cheap,” Queen Filfaeril corrected. “But the choice is yours. As I said, we can’t stop the nobles from doing what they will do.”

“But you don’t have to!” burst Orvendel Rallyhorn. “You know how to stop the ghazneths!”

Tanalasta tried to warn the boy off with a quick shake of her head, but he was too busy looking around in surprise as everyone turned to face him.

“What did you say, Lord Rallyhorn?” asked Emlar.

The flattery was all that was needed to make the youth continue. “Princess Tanalasta knows how to rob the ghazneths of their power. She and Alaphondar have been working on it for more than a month. All they need is some help from us to catch them.”

“Is that so?” asked Lady Calantar.

Trying to ignore the angry look her mother flashed her, Tanalasta sighed and half-nodded. “After a fashion. We know how to weaken the ghazneths temporarily, but with the spy on the loose we have not been able to get close enough to the monsters to put our knowledge to use.” The princess did not need to explain which spy she meant. The entire royal court was abuzz with speculations about the identity of the ghazneth’s informant. Tanalasta furrowed her brow at Orvendel. “The ghazneths know every trap before we set it. Orvendel knows this.”

Orvendel was too caught up in his moment of fame to heed her warning. He turned to Emlar Goldsword. “What I know is that if you weren’t such a coward, Princess Tanalasta would have troops to put everywhere, then it wouldn’t matter if the ghazneths had a spy.”

Emlar gave him a cobra’s smile. “We can see that you need never fear the princess’s assassins.”

“Actually, neither do you,” said Queen Filfaeril. “These assassins belong to Princess Tanalasta no more than they belong to you. I can assure you of that personally.”

A stunned silence fell over the room as the nobles worked through the implications of Queen Filfaeril’s words. Even Tanalasta found her head reeling at what she thought she heard her mother saying. For the queen to know who did not control the assassins suggested she knew who did. If that were so, Tanalasta could only guess at the reason her mother had kept the knowledge secret.

Emlar seemed to reach his conclusion before everyone else. “You are to be commended for defending your daughter’s reputation, Majesty,” he said.

Filfaeril’s pale eyes grew icy. “Do you call me a liar, Goldsword? Or perhaps you think me irresolute enough to let such behavior go unpunished.” The queen leaned back and looked past Ildamoar Hardcastle to Korvarr Rallyhorn, who had been assigned to stand guard over Emlar personally. “Lord Goldsword has impugned the dignity of the queen. Execute him.”

“What?” Goldsword’s face grew stormy and indignant, and he braced his hands on the table so he could stand and look toward the queen. “You can’t-“

Korvarr cut the objection short by catching Emlar by the hair and pulling him off-balance to the rear to prevent him from defending himself. For a moment, Tanalasta thought the lionar would stop there, but then he jerked his captive’s head back and pressed his dagger under Lord Goldsword’s quivering jaw.

“Wait!” Tanalasta cried.

Korvarr cast an inquiring glance at Filfaeril, who raised one finger to delay the execution. “You have something to say before we proceed, Princess?”

Tanalasta started to say that her mother could not simply have a man executed, but of course she could.

The princess swallowed, then said, “If Lord Goldsword were to apologize, perhaps he might be excused for challenging your claim, Majesty. I myself doubted I understood you correctly until I considered The Rule of Law-particularly the passages relating to Time of War.”

The icy hint of a smile crossed Filfaeril’s lips, and Tanalasta knew with a sudden hollowness that she had guessed right. While Iltharl the Abdicator’s treatise The Rule of Law was not exactly the law of the land, it had been quoted as precedent for more than a thousand years and was certainly the foundation of Cormyrean common law. The particular passage Tanalasta referred to stated that during Time of War, any royal representative of the crown had complete authority to punish crimes against the crown. While it might be argued that execution was a rather severe penalty for affronting the queen, the treatise stated explicitly that during Time of War, the punishment was at the representative’s sole discretion and could not be appealed. In other words, Queen Filfaeril could execute not only Emlar Goldsword, she could execute any noble who committed even the smallest breach against the crown-and questioning Tanalasta’s right to call for troops could well be construed as a crime against the crown.

Queen Filfaeril remained silent, apparently considering her daughter’s appeal. A soft murmur rose around the table as the few nobles familiar enough with The Rule of Law to know the passage she cited explained it to those who did not. A lot of faces paled, and the unarmed lords began to cast uneasy glances at the dragoneers standing behind their benches. The loyal lords-Ildamoar Hardcastle, Hector Dauntinghorn, Roland Emmarask, and a handful of others-appeared more astonished than frightened. Only Orvendel Rallyhorn’s reaction did not make sense. Though he was practically touching Lord Goldsword, who remained off-balance with Korvarr’s dagger to his throat, Orvendel did not look astonished or frightened or even alarmed. He looked frustrated-frustrated and worried.

After giving the lords a few moments to appreciate their dilemma, Queen Filfaeril turned from Tanalasta. Her gaze lingered on Orvendel an instant and flashed icy hatred before continuing on to Lord Goldsword, and the princess knew that her mother’s surprises for the day were far from done. The queen had insisted on young Rallyhorn’s presence for a reason. Tanalasta had the sinking feeling she knew what it was-and this time, she would not be able to beg the crown’s mercy.

The queen let her gaze rest on Emlar until the room grew quiet again, then asked, “What say you, Lord Goldsword? Do you apologize?”

Emlar nodded. “Aye, I apologize for doubting you but not for speaking against the princess. I hold the Sembians to be Cormyr’s best hope now more than ever, and I’ll not apologize for that.”

“And I would not ask you to,” said the queen. “Obviously, the crown finds your opinion mistaken, but at least it is honest and takes into account Cormyr’s interests as much as your own. We are not in the habit of executing people for bad opinions and honest mistakes.”

Filfaeril motioned to Korvarr, who pulled his dagger away from Emlar’s throat and gently lowered him to his seat. The color returned to the lord’s face and to the faces of his supporters. Tanalasta knew that in a few moments of terror, her mother had won the cooperation she had been struggling to earn for months.

Emlar knew it as well. “Her majesty is most forbearing.” He inclined his head to the queen, then tried to salvage at least the appearance of compromise by adding, “The Goldsword house shall abide by the decision of this council.”

Filfaeril ignored him and turned to glare at Melot Silversword. “What the crown cannot abide are self-serving intriguers who straddle the wall until they see on which side the most profit will lie for their house. Such nothingarians cause harm enough when the realm is at peace, but during Time of War, they are tantamount to spies.”

Melot straightened himself in his chair. “Majesty, I hardly think such a comparison warranted. It is no fairer to blame a man for his caution than-“

“I would not press the matter, Lord Silversword,” said Tanalasta. “You are still alive-and may even have a reasonable chance of staying that way.”

“Provided he abides by the decrees of this council,” agreed Filfaeril. “Now, there is one other matter I wish to dispose of.”

“If it pleases the queen, I would rather handle that myself.” The princess caught her mother’s eye and glanced quickly in Orvendel’s direction, then grimaced inwardly when the queen gave an icy nod. The chain of betrayal flashed before Tanalasta’s eyes. Orvendel drawing the information out of his older brother, then passing it to the ghazneths-but why? That was a question the boy would answer before he died. Trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach, she turned to Orvendel and said, “Young Lord Rallyhorn, you and I will speak after the council.”

A nervous expression came over Orvendel, but it was nothing compared to the shock on Korvarr’s face. The lionar’s jaw fell, his shoulders sagged, and the princess was certain that only duty kept him from closing his eyes and starting to weep. Clearly, the queen had warned him that the traitor would be named today, but had not said who it was.

Not wishing to draw undue attention to the dragoneer’s internal struggle, Tanalasta looked away and ran her gaze down both sides of the table, taking care to linger on the faces of those nobles who had sided with Goldsword instead of her. When only loyal nobles dared meet her gaze, she decided the time had come to follow her mother’s approach and exert her authority.

“On the morrow, the crown will greet half the retainers of each noble house outside the Horngate,” she said. “They will come prepared for a long march, as they will be journeying north to join King Azoun. At noon, the crown will accept the magic items of each noble house into the Royal Palace for safekeeping and will welcome an additional quarter of each house’s retainers into the king’s service for the purpose of garrisoning various fortresses across the south. The last quarter of each house’s retainers will remain at their home estate for the purpose of securing the lives and property of the manor occupants. Is there any discussion?”

“Discussion?” scoffed Lady Calantar. “Do you really expect us to pretend we are agreeing to this willingly?”

Tanalasta turned toward Lady Calantar but looked past her, to the dragoneer standing guard behind her. “Lady Calantar is fostering treason. Take her outside and behead her.”

Lady Calantar’s eyes grew wide. “You can’t-“

Her protest was cut off as the dragoneer behind her clasped a mailed palm over her mouth and dragged her from her seat. He looked to Tanalasta and raised a querying eyebrow. When the princess nodded, he clenched his teeth and pulled the noblewoman off the bench.

As the soldier dragged her out the door, Roland Emmarask turned to Tanalasta, “If a loyal lord may be so bold as to ask-you truly can’t intend to behead Lady Calantar.”

“Of course I can,” Tanalasta replied evenly. “How would you expect King Azoun to deal with a traitor?”

Faces around the table began to go white. Emmarask, who had once spent a few pleasant months courting Lady Calantar before his parents decided the match would not be a good one for the family, continued to press the matter.

“Certainly, no one can argue that execution is an unjust punishment for a traitor, but Lady Calantar can hardly be considered that.” Emmarask cast a meaningful glance in Goldsword’s direction. “Not when those who have said far worse go unpunished.”

“Perhaps you did not hear Queen Filfaeril,” Tanalasta said, regarding the lord coldly. “The crown has no interest in punishing those who have spoken against us out of love for Cormyr. We respect their courage, if not their wisdom.” She cast her gaze in Melot Silversword’s direction. “The true traitors are those who would risk nothing in the matter, the self-serving ones who remain silent until it grows clear who will win and how best to turn that victory to their own advantage.”

Silversword’s heavy jowls began to quiver. “I assure you, the Silverswords are interested in Cormyr’s advantage only.”

“Good.” Tanalasta searched the faces of other lords for any further hint of defiance. Finding none, she decided the time had come to reaffirm her victory. She glared directly at Emlar Goldsword, then asked, “Is there any more discussion?”

Goldsword shook his head. “My retainers will be there as decreed. May the gods bless the crown.”

“I will be happy if they only favor Cormyr, though we thank you for the thought.” Tanalasta glanced around the table once more. When everyone looked away, she smiled and said, “The crown is most grateful for your support. To show its appreciation, you are all invited to guest at the Royal Palace until such times as your retainers arrive and are dispatched to their new assignments. Your escorts will show you to your rooms and provide messengers for your orders. We will see you for the evening meal.”

If any of the lords found the invitation less than gracious, they were wise enough not to say so. They simply stood and thanked the princess for her hospitality, then turned to follow their escorts out the refectory door.

Orvendel expressed his thanks without meeting Tanalasta’s eyes, then turned to follow the others… and found himself staring at his brother’s broad chest.

“Princess Tanalasta asked you to stay behind.” Korvarr pushed the boy back to his bench. “Or did you forget?”

“No, no… I…” Unable to meet his brother’s eyes, Orvendel spun toward Tanalasta. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“I think you do,” said Tanalasta. “And please stop lying. There is nothing I hate more than a man who makes a fool of me.”