"I think it might get noisy again fairly soon. The Nadrak cities are almost deserted. Every man who can stand up, see lightning, and hear thunder is camped out in the woods a day's march from the border."
"We'd better warn Rhonar."
"Who's he?"
"The current king of Drasnia. I'll take a run up there and let him know what's happening. Why don't you go up into Algaria and see if you can find Cho-Dan, the Chief of the Clan-Chiefs? Let's get some Algar cavalry just north of Lake Atun."
"Don't the Algars have a king anymore?"
"The title's sort of fallen into disuse. The Algars are nomads, and clan's more important to them than nation. I'll go to Boktor and then over to Val Alorn to warn the Chereks."
Beldin rubbed his hands together.
"We haven't had a war in a long time."
"I haven't missed them all that much." I scratched at my beard.
"I
think maybe I'll run on down to Rak Cthol and have another little chat with Ctuchik as soon as the Alorns are in place. Maybe I can head this off before it gets out of hand."
"Spoilsport. Where's Pol?"
"Over in Arendia--Vo Wacune, I think. Ctuchik's been playing games there, too. Pol's keeping an eye on things. Let's go alert the Alorns."
King Rhonar of Drasnia received my news with a certain amount of enthusiasm. He was as bad or worse than Beldin. Then I went on across the Gulf of Cherek to Val Alorn and talked with King Bledar. He was even worse than Rhonar. His fleet sailed for Kotu the next day. I rather hoped that Beldin could keep a tight leash on the Alorns when they got to the Nadrak border. Pol and I had just spent several centuries trying to keep a lid on open hostilities here in the West, and this incipient confrontation threatened to blow that lid off.
Then I went to Rak Cthol.
I paused in the desert a few leagues to the west of that ugly mountain and considered a number of options. My last visit undoubtedly had convinced Ctuchik that posting sentries wouldn't be a bad idea, so getting through the city unnoticed might have been a little tricky. It was with a certain distaste that I finally came to the conclusion that I didn't really have to go through the city. I knew where Ctuchik's turret was, after all, and it did have windows.
It was late at night, so there wasn't any warm air rising up off the black sand. This meant that I literally had to claw my way up through the air as I circled the peak up and up. About the only good thing about it was the fact that after I was about fifty feet up, I couldn't see the ground any more.
As luck had it, Ctuchik had fallen asleep over his worktable, and he had his head down on his folded arms when I flapped in through his window. I shed all those vulture feathers and shook him awake. The years hadn't improved his appearance. He still looked like a walking dead man.
He half rose with a startled exclamation, and then he got control of himself.
"Good to see you again, old boy," he lied.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it. You'd better get word to your Nadraks.
Tell them to call off this invasion. The Alorns know they're coming."
His eyes went flat.
"Someday you're going to irritate me, Belgarath."
"I certainly hope so. God knows you've irritated me enough lately."
"How did you find out about the Nadraks?"
"I've got eyes everywhere, Ctuchik. You can't hide what you're doing from me. Didn't what happened to your scheme in Arendia convince you of that?"
"I'd sort of wondered why that fell apart."
"Now you know." I wasn't actually trying to steal Pol's credit, I just thought it might be a good idea to keep her part in that little coup a secret from Ctuchik for a while longer. Pol was good, but I wasn't sure if she was ready for a confrontation with Ctuchik. Besides, I didn't really want him to know about her just yet. You might say that I was holding her in reserve.
"I'm awfully sorry, old chap," he said with a faint sneer.
"I'm afraid I won't be able to help you with the Nadraks. It's not really my idea. I'm just following orders from Ashaba."
"Don't try to be clever, Ctuchik. I know you can talk with Torak any time you need to. You'd better do that right now. You weren't around when we invaded the country around Korim. Believe me, Torak gets very upset when large numbers of Angaraks get killed, and what's right on the verge of happening on the Drasnian border is very likely to exterminate the Nadraks entirely. I've seen the way Alorns make war. It's entirely up to you, of course; I'm not the one who's going to have to answer to Torak." Then, just to twist the knife a bit and add to his confusion, I smirked at him.
"You really need a copy of the Ashabine Oracles, old boy," I told him spitefully.
"The Mrin Codex is giving me very good instructions. I knew all about this little game of yours a couple hundred years ago, so I've had lots of time to get ready for you." Then I smiled beatifically at him.
"Always nice talking with you, Ctuchik." Then I stepped to the window and jumped.
That little exercise in gross theatricality almost got me killed. I was no more than a hundred feet above the desert floor when I finally got all my feathers in place. Changing form while you're falling is very difficult.
For some reason, it's hard to concentrate when the ground's coming up at you that fast.
Aside from the opportunity it gave me to add to Ctuchik's confusion, however, my visit to Rak Cthol was largely a waste of time. I should have known that Torak would never back away from something once he'd set it in motion, no matter how many things got in his way. His ego simply would not permit it. The Nadraks came howling across the Drasnian border before I even got back from Rak Cthol, and, quite predictably, the Alorns met them head-on and soundly defeated them. A few of them did manage to escape, but it was centuries before there were enough Nadraks again even to worry about.
Torak evidently juggled things around in his mind sufficiently that it wasn't his fault for ignoring my warning. In commemoration of the event, he ordered his Grolims to quadruple the number of sacrifices. Over the centuries, his Grolims have killed more Angaraks than the Alorns ever have.
After the survivors of that debacle limped back to Gar og Nadrak and hid out in the forest, I went to Arendia to see what Pol was up to. I finally located her in Vo Wacune, living in a splendid house not far from the ducal palace. Like all the rest of Vo Wacune, her house had been constructed of marble, and it positively gleamed. It was quite a large house, and it had wings to it that partially enclosed a well-tended flower garden with paved walks, neatly trimmed hedges, and manicured lawns.
"What's all this?" I asked her when her servants finally ushered me into her presence.
She was sitting in an ornate chair by a rose quartz fireplace that glowed pink, wearing a truly stunning blue gown.
"I'm moving up in the world, father."
"You found a gold mine somewhere?"
"Something better, actually. My estate is quite large, and the land's very fertile."
"Your estate?"
"It's just to the north of Lake Medalia--over on the other side of the River Camaar. I even have a manor house up there. You have the distinct honor to be addressing her Grace, the duchess of Erat."
"Be serious, Pol."
"I am serious, father. The old duke was very grateful for the information I gave him about Ctuchik's scheme, so I've always been welcome at the Ducal Palace."
I gave her a hard look.
"He gave you a title just for following the Master's instructions? And you accepted it? Tacky, Pol, very tacky. We aren't supposed to take rewards for obeying orders."
"It went a little further, Old Wolf. You know the situation here in Arendia?"
"Last I heard, the Wacites and the Mimbrates were allied against the Asturians. That alliance seems to be lasting longer than most of the others."
"It's still in effect, father. Anyway, after the old duke died, his son Alleran took the ducal throne. He and I were quite close, since I'd helped his mother raise him. We marrie
d Alleran off--I even persuaded his mother not to let him marry his cousin--and in due time, his wife presented him with a son. The duke of Vo Astur saw a chance to muddy the waters here in Arendia when that happened, and he sent a group of his underlings to abduct the little boy. The current duke of Vo Astur is a crude sort of fellow, and the note his hirelings left was very direct. He told Alleran that he'd kill his son unless Wacune abrogated the treaty with Mimbre and stayed strictly neutral. I went to Vo Astur and rescued the little boy. I also gave the Asturian duke a lesson in good manners."
"What did you do to him?" I asked the question a bit apprehensively.
There are certain rules concerning the use of our gift.
"You didn't kill him, did you?"
"Of course not, father. I know better than that. The duke of Vo Astur has an open sore on the lining of his stomach now. It provides him with all sorts of entertainment, and it keeps him out of mischief. That was five years ago, and there hasn't been a major battle in Arendia since I visited Vo Astur."
"You've made peace in Arendia?" I was stunned.
"A temporary peace, father," she corrected.
"It's probably too early to tell if it's permanent. I'll ulcerate stomachs from one end of Arendia to the other if I have to in order to put an end to this foolishness, though.
Duke Alleran was very grateful, and that's why I'm the duchess of Erat now."
"Why didn't I think of that?" I exclaimed.
"It's so simple. You ended the Arendish civil wars with a bellyache." I bowed to her.
"I'm proud of you, your Grace."
"Why, thank you, father." She beamed. Then she pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"The congratulations might be a little premature, though.
As soon as there's a new duke in either Vo Mimbre or Vo Astur, hostilities might break out again. I think I'd better stay here in Vo Wacune.
These Wacites are the least aggressive of the Arends, and I have a certain amount of authority here because of my friendship with the duke's family.
Possibly I can guide them in the right direction. Somebody in Arendia is going to have to take the role of peacemaker. Give me a little time here, and I might just be able to establish a custom. Maybe I can get the Mimbrates and Asturians into the habit of bringing their disputes to Vo Wacune for mediation instead of trying to solve them on the battlefield."
"That's a lot to hope for in Arendia, Pol."
She shrugged.
"It's worth a try. Go get cleaned up, father. There's a grand ball at the ducal palace tonight, and we've been invited--well, I have, but you can come along as my personal guest."
"A what?"
"A grand ball, father--music, dancing, polite conversation, that sort of thing."
"I don't dance, Pol."
She smiled sweetly at me.
"I'm sure you'll pick it up in no time, Old Wolf. You're a very clever fellow. Now go bathe and trim your beard.
Don't embarrass me in public."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I moved around quite a bit during the next six hundred years or so, but Polgara remained in Vo Wacune. Her assessment of the Wacite Arends proved to be essentially correct, and with her there to guide them, they were able to keep a tentative peace in Arendia.
The virtual destruction of the Nadraks had persuaded the cadaverous Ctuchik to pull in his horns, so there was even an uneasy peace along the eastern frontier.
As I'd promised Dellon's father, the Borunes ascended the throne of Tolnedra--2537 or so, I believe it was. The Vorduvians and the Honethites had been passing the crown back and forth between them for centuries, so when Ran Vordue XX died without an heir, the Honeths assumed that it was their turn again. There were several Honethite nobles who felt that they were qualified, and the resulting divisions in that family were severe enough to deadlock the Council of Advisors. I've heard that the bribes were astronomical. Ultimately, a southern council member rather tentatively placed the name of the Grand Duke of the Borunes in nomination. The Vorduvians and the Horbites had not been pleased at the prospect of several centuries of Honethite misrule, so they dropped their own candidates and swung their support to the Borunes. Since the Honeths were still divided, they had no single candidate, and the crown went to the Borunes almost by default.
Ran Borune I was a very capable emperor. The major problem in Tolnedra at that time was still the ongoing raids along the coast by Cherek freebooters. Ran Borune took steps almost as soon as his coronation was over. He pulled the legions out of their garrisons and put them to work building the highway that now connects Tol Vordue and Tol Horb. He didn't make the legions happy by doing that, but he remained firm. He got his highway, but that was more in the nature of a bonus. His real purpose in the project was to spread his legions out along the coast to repel the Chereks no matter where they came ashore. All in all, it worked out rather well. I'd spent quite some time in Val Alorn trying to talk sense into various Cherek kings, without much success. Inevitably, they'd piously declare that they were merely following the instructions Belar had given them after the Tolnedran invasion of Maragor. I'd tried to point out that Tolnedra had been sufficiently punished by now, but they'd refused to listen to me. I suspect that the loot they were picking up in Tolnedran cities might have had something to do with that upsurge of religious enthusiasm. When their raiding parties started encountering the legions, however, their piety began to cool, and other parts of the world became much more interesting.
I think it was about 2940 when I happened to swing by Vo Wacune to see how Polgara was doing. I may have gotten there just in time. Her Grace, the duchess of Erat, was in love. I knew she'd been spending too much time in Arendia.
She was in her marble-walled garden tending roses when I arrived.
"Well, Old Wolf," she greeted me, "what have you been up to?"
I shrugged.
"This and that," I replied.
"Is the world still in one piece?"
"More or less. I've had to patch it a few times, though."
"Would you look at this?" she said, cutting a rose and handing it to me. It was a white rose, but not entirely. The tips of the petals were a pale lavender.
"Very nice," I said.
"That's all you can say? Very nice? It's beautiful, father. Ontrose developed it just for me."
"Who's Ontrose?"
"He's the man I'm going to marry, father--just as soon as he gets up the nerve to ask me."
What was this? I got very careful at that point.
"Interesting idea, Pol.
Send him around and we'll talk about it."
"You don't approve."
"I didn't say that. Have you thought your way completely through the notion, though?"
"Yes, father, I have."
"And the drawbacks didn't persuade you to think about it a little more?"
"What drawbacks were those?"
"Well, in the first place, there's quite a difference in your ages, I'd imagine. He's probably not much over thirty, and if I remember correctly, you're about nine hundred and fifty."
"Nine hundred and forty, actually. What's that got to do with it?"
"You'll outlive him, Pol. He'll be old before you've turned around twice."
"I think I'm entitled to a little bit of happiness, father--even if it doesn't last very long."
"And were you planning to have children?"
"Of course."
"The chances are very good that they'll have normal life-spans, as well, you know. You won't get old. They will."
"Don't try to talk me out of this, father."
"I'm not. I'm just pointing out a few realities to you. You remember how you felt when Beldaran died, don't you? Do you really want to go through that again--a half dozen times or so?"
"I can endure it, father. Maybe if I get married, my life will become normal. Maybe I'll get old, as well."
"I wouldn't make any large wagers on that, Pol. You've still got a lot of things to do, and if I'm reading t
he Mrin Codex correctly, you're going to be around for a long time. I'm very sorry, Pol, but we aren't normal.
You've been here for almost a thousand years, and I've been kicking around for nearly five."
"You got married," she accused.
"I was supposed to, and your mother was very different. She lived longer, for one thing."
"Maybe marrying me will extend Ontrose's life, as well."
"I wouldn't count on it. It might seem longer to him, though."
"What's that suppose to mean?"
"You're not the easiest person in the world to get along with, Pol."
Her eyes turned cold.
"I think we've just about exhausted the possibilities of this conversation, father. Go back to the Vale and keep your nose out of my affairs."
"Don't throw the word "affair" around like that, Pol. It makes me nervous."
She drew herself up.
"That will do, father," she told me. Then she turned and stormed away.
I stayed around for another couple of weeks, and I even met Ontrose.
He was a nice enough young fellow, I suppose, and he seemed to understand the situation much better than Pol did. He adored her, of course, but he was fully aware of just how long she'd been in Vo Wacune--about six hundred years, if my arithmetic is correct. I was fairly sure that he was not going to ask her any inappropriate questions, no matter how much she might have wanted him to.
Finally I left and started back for the Vale. I have certain advantages, so I was fairly sure that nothing was going to come of Pol's infatuation.
She's frequently mentioned in both the Darine and the Mrin codices, but there's no reference to a husband until much later. Either she was going to come to her senses, or Ontrose would live out his life without ever asking her to marry him. In either case nothing embarrassing was likely to happen.
I went back to my studies, but it was only three years later when Pol called me, rousing me out of a sound sleep in the middle of one blustery night.
"Father!" Her voice sounded desperate.
Rivan Codex Series Page 45