Queen of Sorcery

by David Eddings

  The princess developed a story about the reason for her departure from Tol Honeth as they rode south. The story changed daily, growing more wildly implausible with every passing league. At first she seemed content to be on a simple excursion to visit relatives; then she dropped dark hints about flight from a marriage to an ugly old merchant. Next, there were even darker hints about a plot to capture her and hold her for ransom. Finally, in a crowning effort, she confided to them that the proposed kidnapping was politically motivated - a part of some vast scheme to gain power in Tolnedra.

  "She's an awful liar, isn't she?" Garion asked Aunt Pol when they were alone one evening.

  "Yes, dear," Aunt Pol agreed. "Lying is an art. A good lie shouldn't be embellished so much. She'll need a lot more practice if she plans to make a career of it."

  Finally, about ten days after they had left Tol Honeth, the city of Tol Borune came into sight in the afternoon sun.

  "It looks like this is where we part company," Silk said to Jeebers with a certain amount of relief.

  "Aren't you going into the city?" Jeebers asked.

  "I don't think so," Silk answered. "We don't really have any business to take care of there, and the usual explanations and searches just waste time-not to mention the expense of the bribes. We'll go around Tol Borune and pick up the road to Tol Rane on the other side."

  "We can ride a bit farther with you then," Ce'Nedra said quickly. "My relatives live on an estate to the south of the city."

  Jeebers stared at her in amazement.

  Aunt Pol drew in her horse and looked at the small girl with a raised eyebrow. "This seems like as good a place as any for us to have a little talk," she said.

  Silk looked quickly at her and then nodded.

  "I believe, little lady," Aunt Pol told the girl when they had all dismounted, "that the time has come for you to tell us the truth."

  "But I have," Ce'Nedra protested.

  "Oh, come now, child," Aunt Pol said. "Those stories of yours have been very entertaining, but you don't actually think anyone believed them, do you? Some of us already know who you are, but I really think we should get it out in the open."

  "You know?" Ce'Nedra faltered.

  "Of course, dear," Aunt Pol said. "Would you like to tell them, or shall I?"

  Ce'Nedra's little shoulders drooped. "Tell them who I am, Master Jeebers," she ordered quietly.

  "Do you really think that's wise, your Ladyship?" Jeebers asked nervously.

  "They already know anyway," she said. "If they were going to do anything to us, they'd have done it a long time ago. We can trust them."

  Jeebers drew in a deep breath and then spoke rather formally. "I have the honor to introduce her Imperial Highness, the Princess Ce'Nedra, daughter to his Imperial Majesty, Ran Borune XXIII, and the jewel of the House of Borune."

  Silk whistled, and his eyes widened momentarily. The others showed similar signs of amazement.

  "The political situation in Tol Honeth had become far to volatile, too menacing, for her Highness to remain safely in the capital," Jeebers went on. "The Emperor commissioned me to convey his daughter secretly here to Tol Borune where the members of the Borune family can protect her from the plots and machinations of the Vordues, the Honeths, and the Horbites. I'm proud to say that I've managed to execute my commission rather brilliantly - with your help, of course. I'll mention your assistance in my report - a footnote, perhaps, or maybe even an appendix."

  Barak pulled at his beard, his eyes thoughtful. "An Imperial Princess travels across half of Tolnedra with only a schoolmaster for protection?" he questioned. "At a time when they're knifing and poisoning each other in the streets?"

  "It does seem a trifle risky, doesn't it?" Hettar agreed.

  "Did throe Emperor charge thee with this task in person?" Mandorallen asked Jeebers.

  "It wasn't necessary," Jeebers said stiffly, "His Highness has a great deal of respect for my judgment and discretion. He knew that I'd be able to devise a safe disguise and a secure mode of travel. The princess assured me of his absolute confidence in me. It all had to be done in utmost secrecy, of course. That's why she came to my chambers in the middle of the night to advise me of his instructions and why we left the palace without telling anyone what we were-" His voice trailed off, and he stared at Ce'Nedra in horror.

  "You might as well tell him the truth, dear," Aunt Pol advised the little princess. "I think he's guessed already."

  Ce'Nedra's chin lifted arrogantly. "The orders came from me, Jeebers," she told him. "My father had nothing to do with it." Jeebers went deathly pale and he nearly collapsed.

  "What idiocy made you decide to run away from your father's palace?" Barak demanded of the tiny girl. "All Tolnedra's probably looking for you, and we're caught right in the middle."

  "Gently," Wolf said to the hulking Cherek. "She may be a princess, but she's still a little girl. Don't frighten her."

  "The question's to the point, though," Hettar observed. "If we're caught with an Imperial Princess in our company, we'll all see the inside of a Tolnedran dungeon." He turned to Ce'Nedra. "Do you have an answer, or were you just playing games?"

  She drew herself up haughtily. "I'm not accustomed to explaining my actions to servants."

  "We're going to have to clear up a few misconceptions before long, I see," Wolf said.

  "Just answer the question, dear," Aunt Pol told the girl. "Never mind who asked it."

  "My father had imprisoned me in the palace," Ce'Nedra said in a rather offhand way, as if that explained everything. "It was intolerable, so I left. There's another matter, too, but that's a matter of politics. You wouldn't understand."

  "You'd probably be surprised at what we'd understand, Ce'Nedra," Mister Wolf told her.

  "I'm accustomed to being addressed as my Lady," she said tartly, "or as your Highness."

  "And I'm accustomed to being told the truth."

  "I thought you were in charge," Ce'Nedra said to Silk.

  "Appearances are deceiving," Silk observed blandly. "I'd answer the question."

  "It's an old treaty," she said. "I didn't sign it, so I don't see why I should be bound by it. I'm supposed to present myself in the throne room at Riva on my sixteenth birthday."

  "We know that," Barak said impatiently. "What's the problem?"

  "I'm not going, that's all," Ce'Nedra announced. "I won't go to Riva, and no one can make me go. The queen in the Wood of the Dryads is my kinswoman and she'll give me sanctuary."

  Jeebers had partially recovered. "What have you done?" he demanded, aghast. "I undertook this with the clear understanding that I'd be rewarded - even promoted. You've put my head on the block, you little idiot!"

  "Jeebers!" she cried, shocked at his words.

  "Let's get off the road a ways," Silk suggested. "We've obviously got quite a bit to discuss, and we're likely to be interrupted here on the main highway."

  "Probably a good idea," Wolf agreed. "Let's find some quiet place and set up for the night. We'll decide what we're going to do and then we can start out fresh in the morning."

  They remounted and rode across the rolling fields toward a line of trees that marked the course of a winding country lane about a mile away.

  "How about there?" Durnik suggested, pointing at a broad oak which stood beside the lane, its branches beginning to leaf out in the late afternoon sunlight.

  "That should do," Wolf said.

  It was pleasant in the dappled shade beneath the spreading limbs of the oak. The lane was lined with low stone walls, mossy and cool. A stile stepped up over one of the walls just there, and a path meandered across the field from it toward a nearby pond, sparkling in the sun.

  "We can put the fire down behind one of the walls," Durnik said. "It won't be seen from the main road that way."

  "I'll get some wood," Garion volunteered, looking at the dead limbs littering the grass beneath the tree.

  They had by now established a sort of routine in the setting up of a night's
encampment. The tents were erected, the horses watered and picketed, and the fire was started all within the space of an hour. Then Durnik, who had noticed a few telltale circles on the surface of the pond, heated an iron pin in the fire and carefully hammered it into a hook.

  "What's that for?" Garion asked him.

  "I thought some fish might be good for supper," the smith said, wiping the hook on the skirt of his leather tunic. He laid it aside then and lifted a second pin out of the fire with a pair of tongs. "Would you like to try your luck too?"

  Garion grinned at him.

  Barak, who sat nearby combing the snarls out of his beard, looked up rather wistfully. "I don't suppose you'd have time to make another hook, would you?" he asked.

  Durnik chuckled. "It only takes a couple minutes."

  "We'll need bait," Barak said, getting up quickly. "Where's your spade?"

  Not long afterward, the three of them crossed the field to the pond, cut some saplings for poles and settled down to serious fishing.

  The fish, it appeared, were ravenous and attacked the worm-baited hooks in schools. Within the space of an hour nearly two dozen respectable-sized trout lay in a gleaming row on the grassy bank of the pond.

  Aunt Pol inspected their catch gravely when they returned as the sky turned rosy overhead with the setting of the sun. "Very nice," she told them, "but you forgot to clean them."

  "Oh," Barak said. He looked slightly pained. "We thought that well, what I mean is - as long as we caught them" He left it hanging.

  "Go on," she said with a level gaze.

  Barak sighed. "I guess we'd better clean them," he regretfully told Durnik and Garion.

  "You're probably right," Durnik agreed.

  The sky had turned purple with evening, and the stars had begun to come out when they sat down to eat. Aunt Pol had fried the trout to a crisp, golden brown, and even the sulky little princess found nothing to complain about as she ate.

  After they had finished, they set aside their plates and took up the problem of Ce'Nedra and her flight from Tol Honeth. Jeebers had sunk into such abject melancholy that he could offer little to the discussion, and Ce'Nedra adamantly announced that even if they were to turn her over to the Borunes in the city, she would run away again. In the end, they reached no conclusion.

  "We're in trouble no matter what we do," Silk summed it all up ruefully. "Even if we try to deliver her to her family, there are bound to be some embarrassing questions, and I'm sure she can be counted on to invent a colorful story that will put us in the worst possible light."

  "We can talk about it some more in the morning," Aunt Pol said. Her placid tone indicated that she had already made up her mind about something, but she did not elaborate.

  Shortly before midnight, Jeebers made his escape. They were all awakened by the thudding of his horse's hooves as the panic-stricken tutor fled at a gallop toward the walls of Tol Borune.

  Silk stood in the flickering light of the dying fire, his face angry. "Why didn't you stop him?" he asked Hettar, who had been standing watch.

  "I was told not to," the leather-clad Algar said with a glance at Aunt Pol.

  "It solves the only real problem we had," Aunt Pol explained. "The schoolmaster would only have been excess baggage."

  "You knew he was going to run away?" Silk asked.

  "Naturally. I helped him to arrive at the decision. He'll go straight to the Borunes and try to save his own skin by informing them that the princess ran away from the palace on her own and that we have her now."

  "You have to stop him then," Ce'Nedra said in a ringing voice. "Go after him! Bring him back!"

  "After all the trouble I went to persuading him to leave?" Aunt Pol asked. "Don't be foolish."

  "How dare you speak to me like that?" Ce'Nedra demanded. "You seem to forget who I am."

  "Young lady," Silk said urbanely, "I think you'd be amazed at how little Polgara's concerned about who you are."

  "Polgara?" Ce'Nedra faltered. "The Polgara? I thought you said that she was your sister."

  "I lied," Silk confessed. "It's a vice I have."

  "You're not an ordinary merchant," the girl accused him.

  "He's Prince Kheldar of Drasnia," Aunt Pol said. "The others have a similar eminence. I'm sure you can see how little your title impresses us. We have our own titles, so we know how empty they are."

  "If you're Polgara, then he must be-" The princess turned to stare at Mister Wolf, who had seated himself on the lowest step of the stile to pull on his shoes.

  "Yes," Aunt Pol said. "He doesn't really look the part, does he?"

  "What are you doing in Tolnedra?" Ce'Nedra asked in a stunned voice. "Are you going to use magic of some kind to control the outcome of the succession?"

  "Why should we?" Mister Wolf said, getting to his feet. "Tolnedrans always seem to think that their politics shake the whole world, but the rest of the world's really not all that concerned about who gains the throne in Tol Honeth. We're here on a matter of much greater urgency." He looked off into the darkness in the direction of Tol Borune. "It will take Jeebers a certain amount of time to convince the people in the city that he's not a lunatic," he said, "but it would probably be a good idea if we left the area. I imagine we'd better stay away from the main highway."

  "That's no problem," Silk assured him.

  "What about me?" Ce'Nedra asked.

  "You wanted to go to the Wood of the Dryads," Aunt Pol told her. "We're going in that direction anyway, so you'll stay with us. We'll see what Queen Xantha says when we get you there."

  "Am I to consider myself a prisoner then?" the princess asked stiffly.

  "You can if it makes you feel better, dear," Aunt Pol said. She looked at the tiny girl critically in the flickering firelight. "I'm going to have to do something about your hair, though. What did you use for dye? It looks awful."

  Chapter Nineteen

  They moved rapidly south for the next few days, traveling frequently at night to avoid the mounted patrols of legionnaires who were beating the countryside in their efforts to locate Ce'Nedra.

  "Maybe we should have hung on to Jeebers," Barak muttered sourly after one near-brush with the soldiers. "He's roused every garrison from here to the border. It might have been better to have dropped him off in some isolated place or something."

  "That 'or something' has a certain ring of finality to it, old friend," Silk said with a sharp little grin.

  Barak shrugged. "It's a solution to a problem."

  Silk laughed. "You really should try not to let your knife do all your thinking for you. That's the one quality we find least attractive in our Cherek cousins."

  "And we find this compulsion to make clever remarks which seems to overwhelm our Drasnian brothers now and then almost equally unattractive," Barak told him coolly.

  "Nicely put," Silk said with mock admiration.

  They rode on, watchful, always ready to hide or to run. During those days they relied heavily on Hettar's curious ability. Since the patrols searching for them were inevitably mounted, the tall, hawk-faced Algar swept their surroundings with his mind, searching for horses. The warnings he could thus provide usually gave them sufficient notice of the approach of the patrols.

  "What's it like?" Garion asked him one cloudy midmorning as they rode along a seldom-used and weed-grown track to which Silk had led them. "I mean being able to hear a horse's thoughts?"

  "I don't think I can describe it exactly," Hettar answered. "I've always been able to do it, so I can't imagine what it's like not doing it. There's a kind of reaching-out in a horse's mind - a sort of inclusiveness. A horse seems to think 'we' instead of 'I'. I suppose it's because in their natural condition they're members of a herd. After they get to know you, they think of you as a herd mate. Sometimes they even forget that you're not a horse." He broke off suddenly. "Belgarath," he announced sharply, "there's another patrol coming just beyond that hill over there. Twenty or thirty of them."

  Mister Wolf looked about qui
ckly. "Have we got time to reach those trees?" He pointed at a thick stand of scrub maple about a half mile ahead.

  "If we hurry."

  "Then run!" Wolf ordered, and they all kicked their horses into a sudden burst of speed. They reached the trees just as the first few raindrops of the spring shower that had been threatening all morning pattered on the broad leaves. They dismounted and pushed in among the springy saplings, worming their way back out of sight, leading their horses.

  The Tolnedran patrol came over the hilltop and swept down into the shallow valley. The captain in charge of the legionnaires pulled in his horse not far from the stand of maples and dispersed his men with a series of sharp commands. They moved out in small groups, scouting the weedy road in both directions and surveying the surrounding countryside from the top of the next rise. The officer and a civilian in a gray riding cloak remained behind, sitting their horses beside the track.

  The captain squinted distastefully up into the sprinkling rain. "It's going to be a wet day," he said, dismounting and pulling his crimson cloak tighter around him.

  His companion also swung down and turned so that the party hiding among the maples was able to see his face. Garion felt Hettar tense suddenly. The man in the cloak was a Murgo.

  "Over here, Captain," the Murgo said, leading his horse into the shelter provided by the outspreading limbs of the saplings at the edge of the stand.

  The Tolnedran nodded and followed the man in the riding cloak. "Have you had a chance to think over my offer?" the Murgo asked.

  "I thought it was only speculation," the captain replied. "We don't even know that these foreigners are in this quadrant."

  "My information is that they're going south, captain," the Murgo told him. "I think you can be quite certain that they're somewhere in your quadrant."

  "There's no guarantee that we'll find them, though," the captain said. "And even if we do, it'd be very difficult to do what you propose."