Cho-Hag nodded.
"And we've had word from the Ulgo-Relg," Colonel Brendig added. "He's gathered a small army of warriors from the caves. They'll wait for us on the Algarian side of the mountains. He said you'd know the place."
Barak grunted. "The Ulgos can be troublesome," he said. "They're afraid of open places, and daylight hurts their eyes, but they can see in the dark like cats. That could be very useful at some point."
"Did Relg send any - personal messages?" Taiba asked Brendig with a little catch in her voice.
Gravely, the Sendar took a folded parchment from inside his tunic and handed it to her. She took it with a rather helpless expression and opened it, turning it this way and that.
"What's the matter, Taiba?" Adara asked quietly.
"He knows I can't read," Taiba protested, holding the note tightly pressed against her.
"I'll read it to you," Adara offered.
"But maybe it's - well-personal," Taiba objected.
"I promise I won't listen," Adara told her without the trace of a smile.
Ce'Nedra covered her own smile with her hand. Adara's penetrating and absolutely straight-faced wit was one of the qualities that most endeared her to the princess. Even as she smiled, however, Ce'Nedra could feel eyes on her, and she knew that she was being examined with great curiosity by the Arends - both Asturian and Mimbrate - who had joined them. Lelldorin in particular seemed unable to take his eyes from her. The handsome young man sat close beside the blond Mimbrate girl, Ariana, and stared openly at Ce'Nedra even while, unconsciously perhaps, he held Ariana's hand. Ce'Nedra endured his scrutiny with a certain nervousness. To her surprise, she found that she wanted this rather foolish young man's approval.
"Tell me," she said directly to him, "what are the sentiments here in Asturia - concerning our campaign, I mean?"
Lelldorin's eyes clouded. "Unenthusiastic for the most part, your Majesty," he replied. "I'm afraid there's suspicion that this might all be some Mimbrate plot."
"That's absurd," Ce'Nedra declared.
Lelldorin shrugged. "It's the way my countrymen think. And those who don't think it's a plot are looking at the idea that all the Mimbrate knights might join a crusade against the East. That raises certain hopes in some quarters."
Mandorallen sighed. "The same sentiments exist in some parts of Mimbre," he said. "We are a woefully divided kingdom, and old hatreds and suspicions die hard."
Ce'Nedra felt a sudden wave of consternation. She had not counted on this. King Rhodar had made it plain that he absolutely had to have the Arends, and now the idiotic hatred and suspicion between Mimbre and Asturia seemed about to bring the entire plan crashing down around her ears. Helplessly she turned to Polgara.
The sorceress, however, seemed undisturbed by the news that the Arends were reluctant to join the campaign. "Tell me, Lelldorin," she said calmly, "could you gather some of your less suspicious friends in one place - some secure place where they won't be afraid we might want to ambush them?"
"What have you got in mind, Polgara?" King Rhodar asked, his eyes puzzled.
"Someone's going to have to talk to them," Polgara replied. "Someone rather special, I think." She turned back to Lelldorin. "I don't think we'll want a large crowd - not at first, anyway. Forty or fifty ought to be enough - and no one too violently opposed to our cause."
"I'll gather them at once, Lady Polgara," Lelldorin declared, impulsively leaping to his feet.
"It's rather late, Lelldorin," she pointed out, glancing at the sun hovering low over the horizon.
"The sooner I start, the sooner I can gather them," Lelldorin said fervently. "If friendship and the ties of blood have any sway at all, I will not fail." He bowed deeply to Ce'Nedra. "Your Majesty," he said by way of farewell and ran to where his horse was tethered.
Ariana sighed as she looked after the departing young enthusiast.
"Is he always like that?" Ce'Nedra asked her curiously.
The Mimbrate girl nodded. "Always," she admitted. "Thought and deed are simultaneous with him. He hath no understanding of the meaning of the word reflection, I fear. It doth add to his charm, but it is sometimes disconcerting, I must admit."
"I can imagine," Ce'Nedra agreed.
Later, when the princess and Polgara were alone in their tent, Ce'Nedra turned a puzzled look upon Garion's Aunt. "What are we going to do?" she asked.
"Not we, Ce'Nedra - you. You're going to have to talk to them."
"I'm not very good at speaking in public, Lady Polgara," Ce'Nedra confessed, her mouth going dry. "Crowds frighten me, and I get all tongue-tied."
"You'll get over it, dear," Polgara assured her. She looked at the princess with a slightly amused expression. "You're the one who wanted to lead an army, remember? Did you really think that all you were going to have to do was put on your armor, jump into the saddle and shout 'follow me' and then the whole world would fall in behind you?"
"Well-"
"You spent all that time studying history and missed the one thing all great leaders have had in common? You must have been very inattentive, Ce'Nedra."
Ce'Nedra stared at her with slowly dawning horror.
"It doesn't take that much to raise an army, dear. You don't have to be brilliant; you don't have to be a warrior; your cause doesn't even have to be great and noble. All you have to do is be eloquent."
"I can't do that, Lady Polgara."
"You should have thought of that before, Ce'Nedra. It's too late to go back now. Rhodar will command the army and see to it that all the details are taken care of, but you're the one who'll have to make them want to follow you."
"I wouldn't have the faintest idea what to say to them," Ce'Nedra protested.
"It'll come to you, dear. You do believe in what we're doing, don't you?"
"Of course, but-"
"You decided to do this, Ce'Nedra. You decided it all by yourself. And as long as you've come this far, you might as well go all the way."
"Please, Lady Polgara," Ce'Nedra begged. "Speaking in public makes me sick at my stomach. I'll throw up."
"That happens now and then," Polgara observed calmly. "Just try not to do it in front of everybody."
Three days later, the princess, Polgara, and the Alorn Kings journeyed to the ruined city of Vo Astur deep in the silences of the Arendish forest. Ce'Nedra rode through the sunny woods in a state hovering on the verge of panic. In spite of all her arguments, Polgara had remained adamant. Tears had not budged her; even hysterics had failed. The princess was morbidly convinced that, even if she were to die, Polgara would prop her up in front of the waiting throng and make her go through the agony of addressing them. Feeling absolutely helpless, she rode to meet her fate.
Like Vo Wacune, Vo Astur had been laid waste during the dark centuries of the Arendish civil war. Its tumbled stones were green with moss and they lay in the shade of vast trees that seemed to mourn the honor, pride, and sorrow of Asturia. Lelldorin was waiting, and with him were perhaps fifty richly dressed young noblemen, their eyes filled with curiosity faintly tinged with suspicion.
"It's as many as I could bring together in a short time, Lady Polgara," Lelldorin apologized after they had dismounted. "There are others in the region, but they're convinced that our campaign is some kind of Mimbrate treachery."
"These will do nicely, Lelldorin," Polgara replied. "They'll spread the word about what happens here." She looked around at the mossy, sun-dappled ruins. "I think that spot over there will be fine." She pointed at a broken bit of one of the walls. "Come with me, Ce'Nedra."
The princess, dressed in her armor, hung her helmet and shield on the saddle of the white horse King Cho-Hag had brought for her from Algaria and led the patient animal as she tremblingly followed the sorceress.
"We want them to be able to see you as well as hear you," Polgara instructed, "so climb up on that piece of wall and speak from there. The spot where you'll be standing is in the shade now, but the sun's moving around so that it will be fully
on you as you finish your speech. I think that will be a nice touch."
Ce'Nedra quailed as she saw how far the sun had to go. "I think I'm going to be sick," she said in a quivering little voice.
"Maybe later, Ce'Nedra. You don't have time just now." Polgara turned to Lelldorin. "I think you can introduce her Majesty now," she told him.
Lelldorin stepped up onto the wall and held up his hand for silence. "Countrymen," he announced in a loud voice, "last Erastide an event took place which shook our world to its foundations. For a thousand years and more we have awaited that moment. My countrymen, the Rivan King has returned!"
The throng stirred at his announcement, and an excited buzz rippled through it.
Lelldorin, always extravagant, warmed to his subject. He told them of the flaming sword that had announced Garion's true identity and of the oaths of fealty sworn to Belgarion of Riva by the Alorn Kings. Ce'Nedra, almost fainting with nervousness, scarcely heard him. She tried to run over her speech in her mind, but it all kept getting jumbled. Then, in near panic, she heard him say, "Countrymen, I present to you her Imperial Highness, Princess Ce'Nedra - the Rivan Queen." And all eyes turned expectantly to her.
Trembling in every limb, she mounted the broken wall and looked at the faces before her. All her preparations, all the rehearsed phrases, evaporated from her mind, and she stood, white-faced and shaking, without the faintest idea of how to begin. The silence was dreadful.
As chance had it, one of the young Asturians in the very front had tasted perhaps more wine that morning than was good for him. "I think her Majesty has forgotten her speech," he snickered loudly to one of his companions.
Ce'Nedra's reaction was instantaneous. "And I think the gentleman has forgotten his manners," she flared, not even stopping to think. Incivility infuriated her.
"I don't think I'm going to listen to this," the tipsy young man declared in a tone filled with exaggerated boredom. "It's just a waste of time. I'm not a Rivan and neither are any of the rest of you. What could a foreign queen possibly say that would be of any interest to Asturian patriots?" And he started to turn away.
"Is the patriotic Asturian gentleman so wine-soaked that he's forgotten that there's more to the world than this forest?" Ce'Nedra retorted hotly. "Or perhaps he's so unschooled that he doesn't know what's happening out there." She leveled a threatening finger at him. "Hear me, patriot," she said in a ringing voice. "You may think that I'm just here to make some pretty little speech, but what I've come to say to you is the most important thing you'll ever hear. You can listen, or you can turn your back and walk away-and a year from now when there is no Asturia and when your homes are smoking in ruins and the Grolims are herding your families to the altar of Torak with its fire and its bloody knives, you can look back on this day and curse yourself for not listening."
And then as if her anger with this one rude young man had suddenly burst a dam within her, Ce'Nedra began to speak. She spoke to them directly, not with the studied phrases she had rehearsed, but with words that came from her heart. The longer she spoke, the more impassioned she became. She pleaded; she cajoled - and finally she commanded. She would never remember exactly what she said, but she would never forget how she felt as she said it. All the passion and fire that had filled the stormy outbursts and tantrums of her girlhood came into full play. She spoke fervently with no thought of herself, but rather with an all-consuming belief in what she said. In the end she won them over.
As the sun fell full upon her, her armor gleamed and her hair seemed to leap into flame. "Belgarion, King of Riva and Overlord of the West, calls you to war!" she declared to them. "I am Ce'Nedra, his queen, and I stand before you as a living banner. Who among you will answer Belgarion's call and follow me?"
It was the young man who had laughed at her whose sword leaped first into his hand. Raising it in salute, he shouted, "I will follow!" As if his declaration were a signal, half a hundred swords flashed in the sunlight as they were raised in salute and pledge, and half a hundred voices echoed his shout. "I will follow!"
With a broad sweep of her arm, Ce'Nedra drew her own sword and lifted it. "Follow, then!" she sang to them. "We ride to meet the fell hordes of Angarak. Let the world tremble at our coming!" With three quick steps, she reached her horse and literally threw herself into the saddle. She wheeled her prancing mount and galloped from the ruins, her sword aloft and her flaming hair streaming. The Asturians as one man rushed to their horses to follow.
As she plunged into the forest, the princess glanced back once at the brave, foolish young men galloping behind her, their faces exalted. She had won, but how many of these unthinking Asturians would she lead back when the war was done? How many would die in the wastes of the East? Her eyes suddenly filled with tears; but, dashing those tears away with one hand, the Rivan Queen galloped on, leading the Asturians back to join her army.
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE ALORN KINGS praised Ce'Nedra extravagantly, and hard-bitten warriors looked at her with open admiration. She lapped up their adulation and purred like a happy kitten. The only thing that kept her triumph from being complete was Polgara's strange silence. Ce'Nedra was a little hurt by that. The speech had not been perfect, perhaps, but it had won Lelldorin's friends completely, and surely success made up for any minor flaws.
Then, when Polgara sent for her that evening, Ce'Nedra thought she understood. The sorceress wished to congratulate her in private. Humming happily to herself, the princess went along the beach to Polgara's tent with the sound of waves on the white sand in her ears.
Polgara sat at her dressing table, alone except for the sleepy child, Errand. The candlelight played softly over her deep blue robe and the perfection of her features as she brushed her long, dark hair. "Come in, Ce'Nedra," she said. "Sit down. We have a great deal to discuss."
"Were you surprised, Lady Polgara?" The princess could no longer contain herself. "You were, weren't you? I even surprised myself."
Polgara looked at her gravely. "You mustn't allow yourself to become so excited, Ce'Nedra. You have to learn to conserve your strength and not squander it by dashing about in hysterical self congratulation."
Ce'Nedra stared at her. "Don't you think I did well today?" she asked, hurt to the quick.
"It was a very nice speech, Ce'Nedra," Polgara told her in a way that took all the fun out of it.
A strange thought occurred to the princess then. "You knew, didn't you?" she blurted. "You knew all along."
A faint flicker of amusement touched Polgara's lips. "You always seem to forget that I have certain advantages, dear," she replied, "and one of those is that I have a general idea of how things are going to turn out."
"How could you possibly-"
"Certain events don't just happen, Ce'Nedra. Some things have been implicit in this world since the moment it was made. What happened today was one of those things." She reached over and picked up an age darkened scroll from the table. "Would you like to hear what the Prophecy says about you?"
Ce'Nedra felt a sudden chill.
Polgara ran her eyes down the crackling parchment. "Here it is," she said, lifting the scroll into the candlelight. " 'And the voice of the Bride of Light shall be heard in the kingdoms of the world,' " she read, " 'and her words shall be as a fire in dry grass, that the multitudes shall rise up to go forth under the blaze of her banner."'
"That doesn't mean anything at all, Lady Polgara," Ce'Nedra objected. "It's absolute gibberish."
"Does it become any clearer when you find out that Garion is the Child of Light?"
"What is that?" Ce'Nedra demanded, staring at the parchment. "Where did you get it?"
"It's the Mrin Codex, dear. My father copied it for me from the original. It's a bit obscure because the Mrin prophet was so hopelessly insane that he couldn't speak coherently. King Dras Bull-neck finally had to keep him chained to a post like a dog."
"King Dras? Lady Polgara, that was over three thousand years ago!"
"About
that long, yes," Polgara agreed.
Ce'Nedra began to tremble. "That's impossible!" she blurted.
Polgara smiled. "Sometimes, Ce'Nedra, you sound exactly like Garion. I wonder why young people are so fond of that word."
"But, Lady Polgara, if it hadn't been for that young man who was so insulting, I might not have said anything at all." The princess bit her lip. She had not meant to confess that.
"That's probably why he was so insulting, then. It's quite possible that insulting you at that particular moment was the only reason he was born in the first place. The Prophecy leaves nothing to chance. Do you think you might need him to help you get started next time? I can arrange to have him get drunk again if you do."
"Next time?"
"Of course. Did you think that one speech to a very small audience was going to be the end of it? Really, Ce'Nedra, you have to learn to pay more attention to what's going on. You're going to have to speak in public at least once a day for the next several months."
The princess stared at her in horror. "I can't!" she wailed.
"Yes, you can, Ce'Nedra. Your voice will be heard in the land, and your words shall be as a fire in dry grass, and the multitudes of the West shall rise up to follow your banner. Down through all the centuries, I've never known the Mrin Codex to be wrong - not once. The important thing at the moment is for you to get plenty of rest and to eat regularly. I'll prepare your meals myself." She looked rather critically at the tiny girl. "It would help if you were a bit more robust, but I guess we'll have to make do with what we have. Go get your things, Ce'Nedra. From now on, you'll be staying with me. I think I'm going to want to keep an eye on you."
In the weeks that followed, they moved down through the moist, green Arendish forest, and word of their coming spread throughout Asturia. Ce'Nedra was dimly aware that Polgara was carefully controlling the size and composition of the audiences to be addressed. Poor Lelldorin was seldom out of his saddle as he and a carefully selected group of his friends ranged ahead of the advancing army to prepare each gathering.
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