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."Blaerla rolled her eyes."Is there anyone else seeking the throne?"Darlutheene laughed heartily, spraying raspberry cordial all over the table and herself."Of course, my dear.All the timid mice among both merchants and nobles are skulking about the corridors, suggesting that it's time to install a merchant-or a noble, depending on whose tongue is flapping-council to run the kingdom and put whatever powerless puppy seems most convenient on the throne.One man with little taste and less sense than most actually suggested having Azoun's corpse stuffed and putting it on the throne to entertain the flies, while everyone else got on with the task of running Cormyr!""Gods above!" Blaerla was scandalized."It'd be just like the regency all over again! If there isn't one crowned head to spew the orders, everyone spends his time looking over his shoulder in fear, or burying daggers in the bellies of rivals, and nothing good gets done!""And that," Darlutheene said triumphantly, "is where our favorite fat old mage comes in.Vangerdahast, the Lord High Court Wizard, Royal Magician, and Chamber-pot Watcher, is being friendly with all of the factions, whispering this here and that there, egging them all on to each others' throats! Whenever anyone accuses him of double-dealing or speaking falsely, he goes all grim and grand and talks about 'doing what he must for the safety of the realm.' You should hear him!""What does he truly want, I wonder?" Blaerla mused, suddenly very serious.The palace was all too uncomfortably close to be ruled by madmen, or feuding butcherers or mad wizards."He could be the most dangerous man in the kingdom.""He is the most dangerous man in the kingdom, dear," said Darlutheene darkly, leaning forward to snatch the last bottle of cordial-lime, her favorite-practically out from under Blaerla's nose."The gods help us if he changes.""Changes?""He's always been loyal to crown.Still, he is a wizard, and they are tricky in the extreme.""Yes, tricky." Blaerla echoed, and they frowned in unison and shook their heads disapprovingly.One could never tell with wizards.Chapter 10: CoronationYear of Opening Doors(26 DR)Ondeth's smoke clung to Faerlthann Obarskyr as he stormed into the elven court, the wizard Baerauble trailing a short and respectable distance behind him.Even so, the mage had to lengthen his strides and hasten to keep up with the young man.The Court of Iliphar, Lord of the Scepters, had set up a great pavilion on the site of Mondar's Massacre, now nearly a decade ago.The reason for their appearance here was as obvious as it was threatening.Few humans knew that the massacre had been more than a goblin raid, and it had become a cautionary tale against farming beyond the comfortable wooden palisade of Suzail.But around late fires, tongues wag, and more than a few folk had been told by their fathers in confidence to beware of the elves and not "be the fool that Mondar was."The timing of the elven arrival was obvious as well.Ondeth had died yestereve, his great heart finally giving out after a life of hard work and harder revels.He was struck down while trying to help Smye the smithmaster unmire his cart on a muddy road.Ondeth lingered a single day, weakly making his final farewells to friends and family.When the gods finally came for him, Faerlthann was there, beside Minda and Arphoind.Minda and Ondeth had married, and Faerlthann had come at last to accept her as his father's love, if not as his rightful mother.Arphoind, now sixteen, had been taken into the household but kept his family name in honor of Mondar.Baerauble wasn't present when Ondeth died, but that didn't surprise Faerlthann.He'd seen the mage only a dozen times since the day they burned Mondar, and each time the wizard had gone behind firmly closed doors with Ondeth to deal with some matter of Suzailan import.Faerlthann recalled the old mage telling tales by the fireside when Faerlthann was a boy and wondered if he avoided the town out of shame or guilt for his knowledge of the massacre.Ondeth's passing came at midnight.Wood was gathered and laid in a towering pyre at the foot of the Obarskyr hills, below the expanded manor house.The old farmer's body was dressed in a saffron gown,.and his ancient hammer and sledge were laid on his chest.When the first rays of the sun struck Suzail, the wood was set ablaze, and Ondeth's spirit was sent to join his brothers' and Mondar's in the halls of the gods.It was then that word spread that the elves were here.Not one or two, as sometimes wandered into town, or even a party of hunters like the dozen who'd commandeered a tavern five years back.This time it was more, much more: The elven court had arrived.North and west of the town, their huge tents of diaphanous green and yellow broke smoothly above the green shadowtop leaves like the shoulders of some great draconian beast.It was a strange coincidence, folk said, their arrival so soon after Ondeth's passing.Faerlthann no longer believed in coincidences, and he believed in them even less when Baerauble, green-robed and as lean as ever, finally appeared.The mage pulled him away from the feast hall while the pyre was still blazing strong.Faerlthann set his jaw.The cheek of the man! If the wizard was still a man, truly
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