Castle Of Wizardry

by Eddings, David

  Ce’Nedra sighed. ‘I wish—’ she began, then faltered to a stop.

  ‘Wish what, dear?’

  ‘Oh, Lady Polgara, I never once told Garion that I love him. I’d give anything to be able to tell him that – just once.’

  ‘He knows, Ce’Nedra.’

  ‘But it’s not the same.’ Ce’Nedra sighed again. A strange lassitude had begun to creep over her, and she had stopped crying. It was difficult somehow even to remember why she had been weeping. She suddenly felt eyes on her and turned. Errand sat quietly in the corner watching her. His deep blue eyes were filled with sympathy and, oddly, with hope. And then Polgara took the princess in her arms and began rocking slowly back and forth and humming a soothing kind of melody. Without knowing when it happened, Ce’Nedra fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  The attempt on her life came the following morning. Her army was marching south from Vo Wacune, passing through the sunlit forest along the Great West Road. The princess was riding at the head of the column, talking with Barak and Mandorallen, when an arrow, buzzing spitefully, came out of the trees. It was the buzz that gave Barak an instant of warning. ‘Look out!’ he shouted, suddenly covering Ce’Nedra with his great shield. The arrow shattered against it, and Barak, cursing horribly, drew his sword.

  Brand’s youngest son, Olban, however, was already plunging at a dead run into the forest. His face had gone deathly pale, and his sword seemed to leap into his hand as he spun his horse. The sound of his galloping mount faded back among the trees. After several moments, there was a dreadful scream.

  Shouts of alarm came from the army behind them and a confused babble of voices. Polgara rode forward, her face white. ‘I’m all right, Lady Polgara,’ Ce’Nedra assured her quickly. ‘Barak saved me.’

  ‘What happened?’ Polgara demanded.

  ‘Someone shot an arrow at her,’ Barak growled. ‘If I hadn’t heard it buzz, it might have been very bad.’

  Lelldorin had picked up the shattered arrow shaft and was looking at it closely. ‘The fletching is loose,’ he said, rubbing his finger over the feathers. ‘That’s what made it buzz like that.’

  Olban came riding back out of the forest, his bloody sword still in his hand. ‘Is the queen safe?’ he demanded; for some reason, his voice seemed on the verge of hysteria.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Barak said, looking at him curiously. ‘Who was it?’

  ‘A Murgo, I think,’ Olban replied. ‘He had scars on his cheeks.’

  ‘Did you kill him?’

  Olban nodded. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, my Queen?’ he asked Ce’Nedra. His pale, blond hair was tousled, and he seemed very young and very earnest.

  ‘I’m just fine, Olban,’ she replied. ‘You were very brave, but you should have waited instead of riding off alone like that. There might have been more than one.’

  ‘Then I’d have killed them all,’ Olban declared fiercely. ‘I’ll destroy anyone who even raises a finger against you.’ The young man was actually trembling with rage.

  ‘Thy dedication becomes thee, young Olban,’ Mandorallen told him.

  ‘I think we’d better put out some scouts,’ Barak suggested to King Rhodar. ‘At least until we get out of these trees. Korodullin was going to chase all the Murgos out of Arendia, but it looks as if he missed a few.’

  ‘Let me lead the scouting parties,’ Olban begged.

  ‘Your son has a great deal of enthusiasm,’ Rhodar observed to Brand. ‘I like that in a young man.’ He turned back to Olban. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Take as many men as you need. I don’t want any Murgos within five miles of the princess.’

  ‘You have my word on it,’ Olban declared, wheeling his horse and plunging back into the forest.

  They rode a bit more cautiously after that, and archers were placed strategically to watch the crowd when Ce’Nedra spoke. Olban rather grimly reported that a few more Murgos had been flushed out of the trees ahead of them, but there were no further incidents.

  It was very nearly the first day of summer when they rode out of the forest onto the central Arendish plain. Ce’Nedra by that time had gathered nearly every able-bodied Asturian into her army, and her hosts spread out behind her in a sea of humanity as she led the way out onto the plain. The sky above was very blue as they left the trees behind, and the grass was very green beneath the hooves of their horses.

  ‘And where now, your Majesty?’ Mandorallen inquired.

  ‘To Vo Mimbre,’ Ce’Nedra replied. ‘I’ll speak to the Mimbrate knights, and then we’ll go on to Tolnedra.’

  ‘I hope your father still loves you, Ce’Nedra,’ King Rhodar said. ‘It will take a lot of love to make Ran Borune forgive you for entering Tolnedra with this army at your back.’

  ‘He adores me,’ Ce’Nedra assured him confidently.

  King Rhodar still looked dubious.

  The army marched down through the plains of central Arendia toward the capital at Vo Mimbre where King Korodullin had assembled the Mimbrate knights and their retainers. The weather continued fair, and they marched in bright sunshine.

  One sunny morning shortly after they had set out, Lady Polgara rode forward and joined Ce’Nedra at the head of the column. ‘Have you decided how you’re going to deal with your father yet?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ the princess confessed. ‘He’s probably going to be extremely difficult.’

  ‘The Borunes usually are.’

  ‘I’m a Borune, Lady Polgara.’

  ‘I know.’ Polgara looked penetratingly at the princess. ‘You’ve grown considerably in the past few months, dear,’ she observed.

  ‘I didn’t really have much choice, Lady Polgara. This all came on rather suddenly.’ Ce’Nedra giggled then as a thought suddenly struck her. ‘Poor Garion.’ She laughed.

  ‘Why poor Garion?’

  ‘I was horrid to him, wasn’t I?’

  ‘Moderately horrid, yes.’

  ‘How were any of you able to stand me?’

  ‘We clenched our teeth frequently.’

  ‘Do you think he’d be proud of me – if he knew what I’m doing, I mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ Polgara told her, ‘I think he would be.’

  ‘I’m going to make it all up to him, you know,’ Ce’Nedra promised. ‘I’m going to be the best wife in the world.’

  ‘That’s nice, dear.’

  ‘I won’t scold or shout or anything.’

  ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ce’Nedra,’ Polgara said wisely.

  ‘Well,’ the little princess amended, ‘almost never anyway.’

  Polgara smiled. ‘We’ll see.’

  The Mimbrate knights were encamped on the great plain before the city of Vo Mimbre. Together with their men-at-arms, they comprised a formidable army, glittering in the sunlight.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Ce’Nedra faltered as she stared down at the vast gathering from the hilltop where she and the Alorn Kings had ridden to catch the first glimpse of the city.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Rhodar asked her.

  ‘There are so many of them.’

  ‘That’s the whole idea, isn’t it?’

  A tall Mimbrate knight with dark hair and beard, wearing a black velvet surcoat over his polished armor, galloped up the hill and reined in some yards before them. He looked from face to face, then inclined his head in a polite bow. He turned to Mandorallen. ‘Greetings to the Bastard of Vo Mandor from Korodullin, King of Arendia.’

  ‘You still haven’t gotten that straightened out, have you?’ Barak muttered to Mandorallen.

  ‘I have not had leisure, my Lord,’ Mandorallen replied. He turned to the knight. ‘Hail and well-met, Sir Andorig. I pray thee, convey our greetings to his Majesty and advise him that we come in peace – which he doubtless doth know already.’

  ‘I will, Sir Mandorallen,’ Andorig responded.

  ‘How’s your apple tree doing, Andorig?’ Barak asked, grinning openly.

  ‘It doth flourish, my Lord of Tre
llheim,’ Andorig answered proudly. ‘My care for it hath been most tender, and I have hopes of a bounteous harvest. I am confident that I have not disappointed Holy Belgarath.’ He turned and clattered back down the hill, sounding his horn every hundred yards or so.

  ‘What was that all about?’ King Anheg asked his red-bearded cousin with a puzzled frown.

  ‘We’ve been here before,’ Barak replied. ‘Andorig didn’t believe us when we told him who Belgarath was. Belgarath made an apple tree grow up out of the stones of the courtyard, and that sort of convinced him.’

  ‘I pray thee,’ Mandorallen said then, his eyes clouded with a sudden pain. ‘I see the approach of dear friends. I shall return presently.’ He moved his horse at a canter toward a knight and a lady who were riding out from the city.

  ‘Good man there,’ Rhodar mused, watching the great knight as he departed. ‘But why do I get the feeling that when I’m talking to him my words are bouncing off solid bone?’

  ‘Mandorallen is my knight,’ Ce’Nedra quickly came to the defense of her champion. ‘He doesn’t need to think. I’ll do his thinking for him.’ She stopped suddenly. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘That sounds dreadful, doesn’t it?’

  King Rhodar laughed. ‘You’re a treasure, Ce’Nedra,’ he said fondly, ‘but you do tend to blurt things out on occasion.’

  ‘Who are those people?’ Ce’Nedra asked, curiously watching as Mandorallen rode to meet the couple who had emerged from the gates of Vo Mimbre.

  ‘That’s the Baron of Vo Ebor,’ Durnik replied quietly, ‘and his wife, the Baroness Nerina. Mandorallen’s in love with her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s all very proper,’ Durnik assured her quickly. ‘I didn’t understand it at first myself, but I guess it’s the sort of thing that happens here in Arendia. It’s a tragedy, of course. All three of them are suffering terribly.’ The good man sighed.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Ce’Nedra said, biting her lip. ‘I didn’t know – and I’ve treated him so badly at times.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll forgive you, princess,’ Durnik told her. ‘He has a very great heart.’

  A short time later, King Korodullin rode out from the city, accompanied by Mandorallen and a score of armored knights – Ce’Nedra had met the young King of Arendia several years before, and she remembered him as a pale, thin young man with a beautiful voice. On this occasion he was dressed in full armor and a crimson surcoat. He raised his visor as he approached. ‘Your Majesty,’ he greeted her gravely, ‘we have awaited thy coming with great anticipation.’

  ‘Your Majesty is too kind,’ Ce’Nedra replied.

  ‘We have marvelled at the stories of thy mobilization of our Asturian cousins,’ the king told her. ‘Thine oratory must be wondrously persuasive to move them to lay aside their customary enmities.’

  ‘The day wears on, your Majesty,’ King Rhodar observed. ‘Her Majesty would like to address your knights – with your permission, of course. Once you’ve heard her, I think you’ll understand her value to our cause.’

  ‘At once, your Majesty,’ Korodullin agreed. He turned to one of his men. ‘Assemble the knights and men-at-arms of Mimbre that the Rivan Queen may disclose her mind to them.’ he commanded.

  The army which had followed Ce’Nedra down through the plains of Arendia had begun to arrive and was flowing down onto the plain before the city in a vast multitude. Drawn up to meet that force stood the glittering Mimbrate knights. The air crackled with suspicion as the two groups eyed each other.

  ‘I think we’d better move right along,’ King Cho-Hag suggested. ‘An accidental remark out there could precipitate some unpleasantness we’d all prefer to avoid.’

  Ce’Nedra had already begun to feel sick to her stomach. The feeling by now, however, was so familiar that it no longer even worried her. A platform had been erected on a spot that stood midway between Ce’Nedra’s army and the armored knights of King Korodullin. The princess, accompanied by all her friends and the Mimbrate honor guard, rode down to the platform, where she nervously dismounted.

  ‘Feel free to speak at length, Ce’Nedra,’ Lady Polgara quietly advised. ‘Mimbrates dote on ceremony and they’re as patient as stones if you give them something formal to watch. It’s about two hours until sunset. Try to time the climax of your speech to coincide with that.’

  Ce’Nedra gasped. ‘Two hours?’

  ‘If you need longer, we can build bonfires,’ Durnik offered helpfully.

  ‘Two hours ought to be about right,’ Lady Polgara surmised.

  Ce’Nedra quickly began mentally revising her speech. ‘You’ll make sure they can all hear me?’ she asked Polgara.

  ‘I’ll take care of it, dear.’

  Ce’Nedra drew in a deep breath. ‘All right, then,’ she said, ‘here we go.’ And she was helped up onto the platform.

  It was not pleasant. It never was, but her weeks of practice in northern Arendia had given her the ability to assess the mood of a crowd and to adjust the pace of her delivery accordingly. As Polgara had suggested, the Mimbrates seemed quite willing to listen interminably. Moreover, standing here on the field at Vo Mimbre gave her words a certain dramatic impact. Torak himself had stood here, and the vast human sea of the Angarak hordes had hurled themselves from here against the unyielding walls of the city gleaming at the edge of the plain. Ce’Nedra spoke, the words rolling from her mouth as she delivered her impassioned address. Every eye was upon her, and every ear was bent to her words. Whatever sorcery Lady Polgara used to make the Rivan Queen’s voice audible at the farthest edge of the crowd was clearly working. Ce’Nedra could see the impact of what she was saying rippling through the hosts before her like a breeze touching a field of bending wheat.

  And then, as the sun hovered in golden clouds just above the western horizon, the little queen moved into the climactic crescendo of her oration. The words ‘pride,’ ‘honor,’ ‘courage,’ and ‘duty’ sang in the blood of her rapt listeners. Her final question, ‘Who will follow me?’ was delivered just as the setting sun bathed the field with flaming light and was answered with an car-splitting roar as the Mimbrate knights drew their swords in salute.

  Perspiring heavily in her sun-heated armor, Ce’Nedra, as was her custom, drew her own sword in reply, leaped to her horse and led her now enormous army from the field.

  ‘Stupendous!’ she heard King Korodullin marvel as he rode behind her.

  ‘Now you see why we follow her,’ King Anheg told him.

  ‘She’s magnificent!’ King Korodullin declared. ‘Truly, my Lords, such eloquence can only be a gift from the Gods. I had viewed our enterprise with some trepidation – I confess it – but gladly would I challenge all the hosts of Angarak now. Heaven itself is with this marvellous child, and we cannot fail.’

  ‘I’ll feel better after I see how the legions respond to her,’ King Rhodar observed. ‘They’re a pretty hard-bitten lot, and I think it might take a bit more than a speech about patriotism to move them.’

  Ce’Nedra, however, had already begun to work on that. She considered the problem from every angle as she sat alone in her tent that evening, brushing her hair. She needed something to stir her countrymen and she instinctively knew what it must be.

  Quite suddenly the silver amulet at her throat gave a strange little quiver, something it had never done before. Ce’Nedra laid down her brush and touched her fingertips to the talisman.

  ‘I know you can hear me, father,’ she heard Polgara say. A sudden image rose in Ce’Nedra’s mind of Polgara, wrapped in her blue cloak, standing atop a hill with the night breeze stirring her hair.

  ‘Have you regained your temper yet?’ Belgarath’s voice sounded wary.

  ‘We’ll talk about that some other time. What are you up to?’

  ‘At the moment, I’m up to my ears in drunk Nadraks. We’re in a tavern in Yar Nadrak.’

  ‘I might have guessed. Is Garion all right?’

  ‘Of course he is. I’m not going to let anything happen t
o him, Pol. Where are you?’

  ‘At Vo Mimbre, We’ve raised the Arends, and we’re going on to Tolnedra in the morning.’

  ‘Ran Borune won’t like that much.’

  ‘We have a certain advantage. Ce’Nedra’s leading the army.’

  ‘Ce’Nedra?’ Belgarath sounded startled.

  ‘It seems that was what the passage in the Codex meant. She’s been preaching the Arends out of the trees as if she owned them.’

  ‘What an amazing thing.’

  ‘Did you know that the southern Murgos are already gathered at Rak Goska?’

  ‘I’ve heard some rumors.’

  ‘It changes things, you know.’

  ‘Perhaps. Who’s in charge of the army?’

  ‘Rhodar.’

  ‘Good. Tell him to avoid anything major as long as possible Pol, but keep the Angaraks off my back.’

  ‘We’ll do what we can.’ She seemed to hesitate for a moment. ‘Are you all right, father?’ she asked carefully. The question seemed important for some reason.

  ‘Do you mean am I still in full possession of my faculties?’ He sounded amused. ‘Garion told me that you were worried about that.’

  ‘I told him not to say anything.’

  ‘By the time he got around to it, the whole question was pretty much academic.’

  ‘Are you—? I mean can you still—?’

  ‘Everything seems to work the same as always, Pol,’ he assured her.

  ‘Give my love to Garion.’

  ‘Of course. Don’t make a habit of this, but keep in touch with me.’

  ‘Very well, father.’

  The amulet under Ce’Nedra’s fingers quivered again. Then Polgara’s voice spoke quite firmly. ‘All right, Ce’Nedra,’ the sorceress said, ‘you can stop eavesdropping now.’

  Guiltily, Ce’Nedra jerked her fingers from the amulet.

  The next morning, even before the sun came up, she sent for Barak and Durnik.

  ‘I’m going to need every scrap of Angarak gold in the entire army,’ she announced to them. ‘Every single coin. Buy it from the men if you have to, but get me all the red gold you can lay your hands on.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d care to tell us why,’ Barak said sourly. The big man was surly about being pulled from his bed before daylight.