Castle of Wizardry

by David Eddings

"All you'd have to do is-" She made a vague kind of gesture.

  "Oh." He caught her meaning. "No, we can't do very much with other people's thoughts and feelings. What I mean is - well, there's nothing to get hold of. I wouldn't even know where to start."

  Adara looked at him for a moment, then she buried her face in her hands and began to cry.

  "What's the matter?" he asked, alarmed.

  "Nothing," she said. "It's not important."

  "It is important. Why are you crying?"

  "I'd hoped - when I first heard that you were a sorcerer - and then when you made this flower, I thought you could do anything. I thought that maybe you might be able to do something for me."

  "I'll do anything you ask, Adara. You know that."

  "But you can't, Garion. You just said so yourself."

  "What was it that you wanted me to do?"

  "I thought that perhaps you might be able to make somebody fall in love with me. Isn't that a foolish idea?"

  "Who?" She looked at him with a quiet dignity, her eyes still full of tears. "It doesn't really matter, does it? You can't do anything about it, and neither can I. It was just a foolish notion, and I know better now. Why don't we just forget that I ever said anything?" She rose to her feet. "Let's go back now. It's not nearly as nice a day as I'd thought, and I'm starting to get cold."

  They remounted and rode in silence back toward the looming walls of the Stronghold. They did not speak any more. Adara did not wish to talk, and Garion did not know what to say.

  Behind them, forgotten, lay the flower he had created. Protected by the slope and faintly warmed by the winter sun, the flower that had never existed before swelled with silent, vegetative ecstasy and bore its fruit. A tiny seed pod at its heart opened, scattering infinitesimal seeds that sifted down to the frozen earth through the stalks of winter grass, and there they lay, awaiting spring.

  Chapter Eight

  THE ULGO GIRLS had pale skin, white-blond hair and huge, dark eyes. Princess Ce'Nedra sat in the midst of them like a single red rose in a garden of lilies. They watched her every move with a sort of gentle astonishment as if overwhelmed by this vibrant little stranger who had quite suddenly become the center of their lives. It was not merely her coloring, though that was astonishing enough. Ulgos by nature were a serious, reserved people, seldom given to laughter or outward displays of emotion. Ce'Nedra, however, lived as always on the extreme outside of her skin. They watched, enthralled, the flicker and play of mood and emotion across her exquisite little face. They blushed and giggled nervously at her outrageous and often wicked little jokes. She drew them into confidences, and each of the dozen or so who had become her constant companions had at one time or another opened her heart to the little princess.

  There were bad days, of course, days when Ce'Nedra was out of sorts, impatient, willful, and when she drove the gentle-eyed Ulgo girls from her with savage vituperation, sending them fleeing in tears from her unexplained tantrums. Later, though they all resolved after such stormy outbursts never to go near her again, they would hesitantly return to find her smiling and laughing as if nothing at all had happened.

  It was a difficult time for the princess. She had not fully realized the implications of her unhesitating acquiescence to the command of UL when he had told her to remain behind in the caves while the others journeyed to Rak Cthol. For her entire life, Ce'Nedra had been at the center of events, but here she was, shunted into the background, forced to endure the tedious passage of hours spent doing nothing but waiting. She was not emotionally constructed for waiting, and the outbursts that scattered her companions like startled doves were at least in part generated by her enforced inactivity.

  The wild swings of her moods were particularly trying for the Gorim. The frail, ancient holy man had lived for centuries a life of quiet contemplation, and Ce'Nedra had exploded into the middle of that quiet like a comet. Though sometimes tried to the very limits of his patience, he endured the fits of bad temper, the storms of weeping, the unexplained outbursts - and just as patiently her sudden exuberant displays of affection when she would throw her arms about his neck and cover his startled face with kisses.

  On those days when Ce'Nedra's mood was congenial, she gathered her companions among the columns on the shore of the Gorim's island to talk, laugh, and play the little games she had invented, and the dim silent cavern was filled with the babble and laughter of adolescent girls. When her mood was pensive, she and the Gorim sometimes took short walks to view the strange splendors of this subterranean world of cave and gallery and cavern beneath the abandoned city of Prolgu. To the unpracticed eye, it might have appeared that the princess was so involved in her own emotional pyrotechnics that she was oblivious to anything around her, but such was not the case. Her complex little mind was quite capable of observing, analyzing, and questioning; even in the very midst of an outburst. To the Gorim's surprise, he found her mind quick and retentive. When he told her the stories of his people, she questioned him closely, moving always to the meaning that lay behind the stories.

  The princess made many discoveries during those talks. She discovered that the core of Ulgo life was religion, and that the moral and theme of all their stories was the duty of absolute submission to the will of UL. A Tolnedran might quibble or even try to strike bargains with his God. Nedra expected it, and seemed to enjoy the play of offer and counteroffer as much as did his people. The Ulgo mind, however, was incapable of such casual familiarity.

  "We were nothing," the Gorim explained. "Less than nothing. We had no place and no God, but wandered outcast in the world until UL consented to become our God. Some of the zealots have even gone so far as to suggest that if one single Ulgo displeases our God, he will withdraw himself from us. I don't pretend to know the mind of UL entirely, but I don't think he's quite that unreasonable. Still, he didn't really want to be our God in the first place, so it's best probably not to offend him."

  "He loves you," Ce'Nedra pointed out quickly. "Anyone could see that in his face when he came to us that time."

  The Gorim looked doubtful. "I hope I haven't disappointed him too much."

  "Don't be silly," the princess said airily. "Of course he loves you. Everyone in the whole world loves you." Impulsively, as if to prove her point, she kissed his pale cheek fondly.

  The Gorim smiled at her. "Dear child," he observed, "your own heart is so open that you automatically assume that everyone loves those whom you love. It's not always that way, I'm afraid. There are a good number of people in our caves who aren't all that fond of me."

  "Nonsense," she said. "Just because you argue with someone doesn't mean that you don't love him. I love my father very much, but we fight all the time. We enjoy fighting with each other." Ce'Nedra knew that she was safe using such terms as "silly" and "nonsense" with the Gorim. She had by now so utterly charmed him that she was quite sure she could get away with almost anything.

  Although it might have been difficult to persuade anyone around her that such was the case, there had been a few distinct but subtle changes in Ce'Nedra's behavior. Impulsive though she might seem to these serious, reserved people, she now gave at least a moment's thought - however brief - before acting or speaking. She had on occasion embarrassed herself here in the caves, and embarrassment was the one thing Ce'Nedra absolutely could not bear. Gradually, imperceptibly, she learned the value of marginal self control, and sometimes she almost appeared ladylike.

  She had also had time to consider the problem of Garion. His absence during the long weeks had been particularly and inexplicably painful for her. It was as if she had misplaced something - something very valuable - and its loss left an aching kind of vacancy. Her emotions had always been such a jumble that she had never fully come to grips with them. Usually they changed so rapidly that she never had time to examine one before another took its place. This yearning sense of something missing, however, had persisted for so long that she finally had to face it.

  It could not be love. That
was impossible. Love for a peasant scullion - no matter how nice he was - was quite out of the question! She was, after all, an Imperial Princess, and her duty was crystal clear. If there had been even the faintest suspicion in her mind that her feelings had moved beyond casual friendship, she would have an absolute obligation to break off any further contact. Ce'Nedra did not want to send Garion away and never see him again. The very thought of doing so made her lip tremble. So, quite obviously, what she felt was not - could not - be love. She felt much better once she had worked that out. The possibility had been worrying her, but now that logic had proved beyond all doubt that she was safe, she was able to relax. It was a great comfort to have logic on her side.

  That left only the waiting, the seemingly endless, unendurable waiting for her friends. Where were they? When were they coming back? What were they doing out there that could take so long? The longer she waited, the more frequently her newfound self control deserted her, and her pale-skinned companions learned to watch apprehensively for those minute danger signs that announced imminent eruption.

  Then finally the Gorim told her that word had reached him that her friends were returning, and the little princess went absolutely wild with anticipation. Her preparations were lengthy and elaborate. She would greet them properly of course. No little girl enthusiasm this time. Instead, she would be demure, reserved, imperial and altogether grown up. Naturally, she would have to look the part.

  She fretted for hours before selecting the perfect gown, a floor-length Ulgo dress of glistening white. Ulgo gowns, however, were perhaps a trifle too modest for Ce'Nedra's taste. While she wished to appear reserved, she did not want to be that reserved. Thoughtfully, she removed the sleeves from the gown and made a few modifications to the neckline. Some elaborate cross-tying at bodice and waist with a slender gold sash accentuated things a bit. Critically she examined the results of her efforts and found them to her liking.

  Then there was the problem of her hair. The loose, tumbled style she had always worn would never do. It needed to be up, piled in a soft mass of curls atop her head and then cascading elegantly down over one shoulder to add that splash of color across the pristine whiteness of her bodice that would set things off just right. She worked on it until her arms ached from being raised over her head for so long. When she was finished, she studied the entire effect of gown and hair and demurely regal expression. It wasn't bad, she congratulated herself. Garion's eyes would fall out when he saw her. The little princess exulted.

  When the day finally arrived, Ce'Nedra, who had scarcely slept, sat nervously with the Gorim in his now-familiar study. He was reading from a long scroll, rolling the top with one hand while he unrolled the bottom with another. As he read, the princess fidgeted, nibbling absently on a lock.

  "You seem restless today, child," he observed.

  "It's just that I haven't seen him - them - for so long," she explained quickly. "Are you sure I look all right'?" She had only asked the question six or eight times that morning already.

  "You're lovely, child," he assured her once again. She beamed at him.

  A servingman came into the Gorim's study. "Your guests have arrived, Holy One," he said with a respectful bow.

  Ce'Nedra's heart began to pound.

  "Shall we go greet them, child?" the Gorim suggested, laying aside his scroll and rising to his feet.

  Ce'Nedra resisted her impulse to spring from her chair and run out of the room. With an iron grip she controlled herself. Instead, she walked at the Gorim's side, silently repeating to herself, "Dignity. Reserve. Imperially demure."

  Her friends were travel-stained and weary-looking as they entered the Gorim's cavern, and there were strangers with them whom Ce'Nedra did not recognize. Her eyes however, sought out only one face.

  He looked older than she remembered him. His face, which had always been so serious, had a gravity to it now that had not been there before. Things had obviously happened to him while he had been gone - important things - and the princess felt a little pang at having been excluded from such momentous events in his life.

  And then her heart froze. Who was that great gangling girl at his side? And why was he being so deferential to the big cow? Ce'Nedra's jaws clenched as she glared across the calm waters of the lake at the perfidious young man. She had known it would happen. The minute she had let him out of her sight, he had run headlong into the arms of the first girl who happened by. How dared he? How dared he!

  As the group on the far side of the lake began to come across the causeway, Ce'Nedra's heart sank. The tall girl was lovely. Her dark hair was lustrous, and her features were perfect. Desperately, Ce'Nedra looked for some flaw, some blemish. And the way the girl moved! She actually seemed to flow with a grace that nearly brought tears of despair to Ce'Nedra's eyes.

  The greetings and introductions seemed hardly more than some incoherent babble to the suffering princess. Absently she curtsied to the king of the Algars and his lovely queen. Politely she greeted the lushly beautiful woman - Taiba, her name was - whom Lady Polgara introduced to her. The moment she was dreading was approaching, and there was no way she could forestall it.

  "And this is Adara," Lady Polgara said, indicating the lovely creature at Garion's side. Ce'Nedra wanted to cry. It wasn't fair! Even the girl's name was beautiful. Why couldn't it have been something ugly?

  "Adara," Lady Polgara continued, her eyes intently on Ce'Nedra's face, "this is her Imperial Highness, the Princess Ce'Nedra."

  Adara curtsied with a grace that was like a knife in Ce'Nedra's heart. "I've so wanted to meet your Highness," the tall girl said. Her voice was vibrant, musical.

  "Charmed, I'm sure," Ce'Nedra replied with a lofty superiority. Though every nerve within her screamed with the need to lash out at this detested rival, she held herself rigid and silent. Any outburst, even the faintest trace of dismay showing in her expression or her voice would make this Adara's victory complete. Ce'Nedra was too much a princess - too much a woman - to permit that ultimate defeat. Though her pain was as real as if she were in the hands of a torturer, she stood erect, enclosed in all the imperial majesty she could muster. Silently she began to repeat all of her titles over and over to herself, steeling herself with them, reminding herself grimly just who she was. An Imperial Princess did not cry. The daughter of Ran Borune did not snivel. The flower of Tolnedra would never grieve because some clumsy scullery boy had chosen to love somebody else.

  "Forgive me, Lady Polgara," she said, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead, "but I suddenly seem to have the most dreadful headache. Would you excuse me, please?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned to walk slowly toward the Gorim's house. She paused only once, just as she passed Garion. "I hope you'll be very happy," she lied to him.

  He looked baffled.

  It had gone too far. It had been absolutely necessary to conceal her emotions from Adara, but this was Garion, and she had to let him know exactly how she felt. "I despise you, Garion," she whispered at him with a terrible intensity, "and I don't ever want to lay eyes on you again."

  He blinked.

  "I don't think you can even begin to imagine how much I loathe the very sight of you," she added. And with that she continued on into the Gorim's house, her back straight and her head unbowed.

  Once she was inside, she fled to her room, threw herself on the bed, and wept in broken-hearted anguish.

  She heard a light step near the doorway, and then the Lady Polgara was there. "All right, Ce'Nedra," she said, "what's this all about?" She sat down on the edge of the bed and put one hand on the shoulder of the sobbing little princess.

  "Oh, Lady Polgara," Ce'Nedra wailed, suddenly throwing herself into Polgara's arms. "I - I've l-lost him. He - he's in love with h-h-her."

  "Who's that, dear?" Polgara asked her calmly.

  "Garion. He's in love with that Adara, and he doesn't even know I'm alive any m-m-more."

  "You silly little goose," Polgara chided her gently.

  "He
does love her, doesn't he?" Ce'Nedra demanded.

  "Of course he does, dear."

  "I knew it," Ce'Nedra wailed, collapsing into a fresh storm of weeping.

  "It's only natural for him to love her," Polgara continued. "She's his cousin, after all."

  "His cousin?" Ce'Nedra's tear-streaked face came up suddenly.

  "The daughter of his mother's sister," Polgara explained. "You did know that Garion's mother was an Algar, didn't you?"

  Ce'Nedra shook her head mutely.

  "Is that what all this is about?"

  Ce'Nedra nodded. Her weeping had suddenly stopped.

  Lady Polgara took a handkerchief from her sleeve and offered it to the tiny girl. "Blow your nose, dear," she instructed. "Don't sniff like that. It's very unbecoming."

  Ce'Nedra blew her nose.

  "And so you've finally admitted it to yourself," Polgara observed. "I was wondering how long it was going to take you."

  "Admitted what?"

  Polgara gave her a long, steady look, and Ce'Nedra flushed slowly, lowering her eyes. "That's better," Polgara said. "You mustn't try to hide things from me, Ce'Nedra. It doesn't do any good, you know, and it only makes things more difficult for you."

  Ce'Nedra's eyes had widened as the full impact of her tacit admission struck her. "It's not possible," she gasped in absolute horror. "It can't happen."

  "As my father's so fond of saying, just about anything is possible," Polgara told her.

  "What am I going to do?"

  "First you ought to go wash your face," Polgara told her. "Some girls can cry without making themselves ugly, but you don't have the right coloring for it. You're an absolute fright. I'd advise you never to cry in public if you can help it."

  "That's not what I meant," Ce'Nedra said. "What am I going to do about Garion?"

  "I don't know that you really need to do anything, dear. Things will straighten themselves out eventually."

  "But I'm a princess, and he's - well, he's just Garion. This sort of thing isn't permitted."