Polgara the Sorceress

by David Eddings

  ‘Vo Wacune, my Lord,’ I replied politely.

  I want you all to appreciate – and admire – my inhuman self-control during that incident. I didn’t even once consider turning him into a toad – well, not very seriously anyway.

  ‘What is thy business in our fair city?’ he demanded.

  ‘It is just that, my Lord – my business.’

  ‘Rise not above thyself, wench. The commons do not speak thus to their betters. Methinks ‘twere best that I take thee into custody, for thy speech doth proclaim thee alien, and aliens are not welcome in this realm.’

  ‘That might explain thy lack of manners and good breeding, surly boy,’ I said bluntly. ‘Contact with civilized people would possibly have improved thee, though that is much to hope for.’ I sighed. This is burdensome, but it doth appear that the thankless task of educating thee in civil usage falleth to me. Attend to my words most acutely, uncouth knave, for thou shalt discover me to be a most exacting instructor.’ I gathered in my Will.

  He gaped at me. Evidently no one had ever chided him about his bad manners before. Then he half-turned, obviously intending to speak sharply to his snickering troops.

  ‘At the outset I must tell thee that thou must give me thine undivided attention whilst I am instructing thee,’ I told him coldly. I was a dozen feet away from him, and there was nothing visible to account for the ringing blow that took him full in the face. It wasn’t just a little slap either, and he rocked back in his saddle, his eyes slightly glazed.

  ‘Moreover,’ I continued relentlessly, ‘thou shalt henceforth address me as “my Lady”. Shouldst the term “wench” cross thy lips once more, I will make certain that thou shalt regret it unto thy dying day.’ This blow took him straight in the mouth, and it knocked him out of his saddle. He came up spitting blood and teeth.

  ‘Have I perchance gained thine attention, knave?’ I asked him pleasantly. Then I murmured ‘sleep’ under my breath, and his eyes and the eyes of his sniggering men all went absolutely blank. I rode on with a faint smile, leaving the little group staring at the empty place where I’d just been. I left them in stasis for an hour or so, and by then Lady and I were several miles away. Then I sent my thought back to the place where they were. ‘Wake up,’ I told them.

  They’d not been aware of the fact that they’d been napping, of course, so it appeared to them that I’d simply vanished. I learned somewhat later that the rude young noble had entered a monastery not long after our encounter, and that his men had all deserted and were nowhere to be found. At least one source of bad manners had been dried up in the Duchy of Wacune.

  The city of Vo Wacune reared its loveliness out of the surrounding forest, and it absolutely took my breath away. I’ve never seen a city so beautiful. Vo Astur was almost as grey as Val Alorn, and Vo Mimbre is yellow. The Mimbrates call it ‘golden’, but that doesn’t hide the fact that it’s just plain old yellow. Vo Wacune was sheathed all in marble, even as Tol Honeth is. Tol Honeth, however, strives for grandeur, while Vo Wacune tried for – and achieved – beauty. Its slender towers soared white and gleaming toward a sky that smiled benevolently down on the most beautiful city in the world.

  I paused in the forest to change clothes before I followed the gently winding road leading to the gates. I put on the blue velvet gown and cape I’d worn on ceremonial occasions on the Isle of the Winds, and as an after-thought I added a silver circlet – just to make the point that the term ‘wench’ wasn’t really appropriate.

  The guards at the city gates were civil, and I entered Vo Wacune with father trailing along behind me trying to look inconspicuous.

  My years on the Isle had taught me how to assume a commanding presence, and I was soon escorted to a large hall where the duke sat in semi-regal splendor. ‘Your Grace,’ I greeted him with a curtsey, ‘it is imperative that we speak privately. I must disclose my mind unto thee out of the hearing of others.’ I just adore archaic speech, don’t you?

  ‘That is not customary, Lady – ?’ he replied, fishing for my name. The duke was a handsome fellow with flowing brown hair, and he wore a regal purple velvet doublet and a circlet that stopped just short of being a crown.

  ‘I will identify myself unto thee when we are alone, your Grace,’ I advised him and went on to suggest the possibility of spies lurking in the background. Arends absolutely adore intrigue, so the duke walked right into that one. He rose, offered me his arm, and led me to a private chamber where we could talk. Father, in the form of a somewhat flea-bitten hound, trailed along behind us.

  The duke escorted me to a pleasant room where filmy curtains billowed in the breeze coming in through the open windows. He shooed my father out, closed the door, and then turned to me. ‘And now, dear Lady,’ he said, ‘prithee disclose thy name unto me.’

  ‘My name’s Polgara, your Grace,’ I replied. ‘You may have heard of me.’ I deliberately dropped the archaic speech. Archaism, though quite lovely, has a tendency to lull the mind, and I wanted his Grace to be very alert.

  “The daughter of Ancient Belgarath?’ He said it in a startled tone.

  ‘Exactly, your Grace.’ I was a little surprised to find that he knew of me. I probably shouldn’t have been. What some in the west refer to as ‘the brotherhood of sorcerers’ is the stuff of myth and legends, and Arends have a natural affinity for that sort of thing.

  ‘My poor house is overwhelmed that thou hast so graciously honored it with thy presence.’

  I smiled at him. ‘Please, your Grace,’ I said in a slightly whimsical tone, ‘let’s not get carried away here. Your house is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and I’m the one who’s honored to be received here.’

  “That was a little extravagant, wasn’t it?’ he admitted with a rueful unArendish candor. Thy statement, however, startled me, and I fell back on extravagance to cover my confusion. To what do we owe the pleasure of thy divine company?’

  ‘Hardly divine, your Grace. You’ve been receiving some bad advice lately. There’s a Tolnedran merchant here in Vo Wacune who’s been telling you that he speaks for Ran Vordue, but he’s lying. Ran Vordue probably doesn’t even know him. The house of Vordue is not offering you an alliance.’

  ‘I had thought my discussions with the merchant Haldon were most private, Lady Polgara.’

  ‘I have certain advantages, your Grace. Things here in Arendia have a habit of changing almost hourly, so perhaps you could tell me with whom you’re currently at war.’

  ‘The Asturians – this week,’ he replied wryly. ‘Should that war chance to grow boring, we can always find some excuse to declare war on Mimbre, I suppose. We haven’t had a good war with the Mimbrates for nearly two years now.’ I was almost certain that he was joking.

  ‘Are there any alliances?’ I asked.

  ‘We have a rather tentative agreement with the Mimbrates,’ he replied. ‘The Mimbrates have no more reason to be fond of Asturians than do we. If truth be known, however, my alliance with Corrolin of Mimbre is little more than an agreement that he will not attack my southern border whilst I deal with that wretched little drunkard, Oldoran of Asturia. I had hopes of an alliance with Tolnedra, but if thine information should prove true, those hopes are dashed.’ He slammed his fist down on the table. ‘What doth Haldon hope to achieve by this deception?’ he blurted out. ‘Why would he bring this spurious offer from his emperor?’

  ‘Ran Vordue isn’t Haldon’s master, your Grace. Haldon speaks for Ctuchik.’

  ‘The Murgo?’

  ‘Ctuchik’s lineage is a little more complicated than that, but let it pass for now.’

  ‘Of what concern are Arendish internal affairs to the Murgos?’

  ‘Arendish internal affairs concern everyone, your Grace. Your poor Arendia’s an ongoing disaster, and disasters have a way of spreading. In this case, though, Ctuchik wants the strife to spread. He wants confusion here in the west to open the door for his Master.’

  ‘His Master?’

  ‘Ctuchik’s one of Tor
ak’s disciples, and the time’s not too far off when the Dragon-God’s going to invade the western kingdoms. This Haldon’s only one of the people Ctuchik’s insinuated into Arendia. There are others who are stirring up similar mischief in Asturia and Mimbre. If each duchy can be persuaded that it has an alliance with the Tolnedrans, and the legions don’t appear when and where you expect them to, you, Corrolin, and Oldoran will probably attack Tolnedra – either individually or in some hastily-formed alliance. That’s Ctuchik’s ultimate goal – war between Arendia and Tolnedra.’

  ‘What a ghastly thought!’ he exclaimed. ‘No alliance between Corrolin, Oldoran, and me could ever be firm enough for us to withstand the imperial legions! We’d be swarmed under!’

  ‘Precisely. And if Tolnedra crushes and then annexes Arendia, the Alorns will be drawn in to protect their interests. All the kingdoms of the west could go up in flames.’ A thought came to me at that point. ‘I think I’d better suggest to my father that he go have a look at Aloria. If Ctuchik’s stirring things up here in the south, he could very well be doing the same in the north. We don’t need another outbreak of clan wars in the Alorn kingdoms. If everybody here in the west is fighting everybody else, the door’ll be wide open for an invasion from Mallorea.’

  ‘I would not insult thee for all this world, Lady Polgara, but Haldon hath documents bearing the seal and signature of Ran Vordue.’

  ‘The imperial seal isn’t that difficult to duplicate, your Grace. I can make one for you right here and now, if you’d like.’

  ‘Thou art most skilled in the devious world of statecraft, Lady Polgara.’

  ‘I’ve had some practice, your Grace.’ I thought for a moment. ‘If we do this right, we might be able to turn Ctuchik’s scheme to our own advantage. I’m not trying to be offensive here, but it’s a part of the Arendish nature to need an enemy. Let’s see if we can re-direct that enmity. Wouldn’t it be nicer to hate Murgos rather than each other?’

  ‘Far nicer, my Lady. I’ve met a few Murgos, and I’ve never encountered one that I liked. They are a most unlovable race, it seemeth to me.’

  ‘Indeed they are, your Grace, and their God is even worse.’

  ‘Doth Torak plan immediate action against the west?’

  ‘I don’t think even Torak himself knows what he plans, your Grace.’

  ‘Prithee, Lady Polgara, my friends do call me Kathandrion, and this vital information which thou hath brought unto me hath surely made thee my friend.’

  ‘As it pleaseth thee, Lord Kathandrion,’ I said with a polite little curtsey.

  He bowed in reply, and then he laughed. ‘We are getting along well, aren’t we, Polgara?’ he suggested.

  ‘I rather thought so myself,’ I agreed, a little startled by the duke’s lapse into what I considered to be normal speech. As we came to know each other better, Kathandrion stepped down from ‘high style’ more and more frequently, and I took that to be an indication of a fair level of intelligence. Kathandrion could – and frequently did – stun his listeners into near-insensibility with flowery language, but there was a real mind hiding behind all those ‘thees,’ ‘thous,’ and ‘forasmuches’. When he chose to speak normally, his tone was often humorously self-deprecatory, and his ability to laugh at himself was most unArendish. ‘We’d probably better get used to each other, Kathandrion,’ I told him. ‘I have a suspicion that you and I have a long way to go together.’

  ‘I could not wish for more pleasant company, dear Lady.’ He reverted to ‘high style’, and the sudden contrast also contained a hidden chuckle. This was a very complicated man. Then he sighed just a bit theatrically.

  ‘Why so great a sigh, friend Kathandrion?’

  ‘If the truth be known, thou hast given me reason to consider abdication, Polgara,’ he lamented. The peace and quiet of a monastery do beckon unto me most invitingly. Are international politics always so murky?’

  ‘Usually. Sometimes they’re worse.’

  ‘I wonder if they’ll make me shave my head,’ he mused, tugging a long, brown strand of hair around so that he could look at it.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘When I enter the monastery.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Kathandrion. We’re having fun, aren’t we?’

  Thou has a peculiar definition of that word, Polgara. I was quite content with hating Asturians and Mimbrates. Life was so simple then. Now hast thou loaded my poor brain top-full of other strife to consider – and it is not that capacious a brain.’

  I put my hand affectionately on his arm. ‘You’ll do just fine, Kathandrion. I’ll see to it that you don’t make too many mistakes. Just how stringent are the rules of evidence here in Vo Wacune?’

  ‘Rules of evidence?’

  ‘How far will you have to go to prove-that the Tolnedran’s a knave?’

  He laughed. ‘Thou art unschooled in Arendish customs, I see,’ he said. ‘We are Arends, Polgara. Evidence and proof are quite beyond our capabilities. I rule here by decree. If I say that a man’s a villain, then he’s a villain, and he takes up immediate residence in my dungeon. Our nature is such that we must keep things simple.’

  ‘How terribly convenient. I need further information, however. Have him picked dp, if you would, please. There are some questions I’d like to ask him before he takes up residence down in the cellar. I want to know just exactly how wide-spread this plot is before I go on to Vo Astur and Vo Mimbre.’

  ‘Wilt thou require the services of a professional interrogator?’

  ‘A torturer, you mean? No, Kathandrion. There are other ways to get the truth out of people. Once I know the full extent of Ctuchik’s scheme, I should be able to spoke his wheel.’

  ‘Hast thou ever met this miscreant Ctuchik?’

  ‘Not yet, your Grace,’ I said bleakly. ‘I expect it’s coming, though, and I’m rather looking forward to it. Shall we go now?’

  I paused momentarily at the door to look critically at the hound sprawled just outside in the hallway. ‘All right, father,’ I said. ‘You can go home now. I can manage here quite well without you.’

  He even managed to look a little guilty.

  Chapter 13

  The more I came to know the Arendish people, the more I appreciated Kathandrion. Whole volumes have been devoted to a misconception about the nature of Arends. The ongoing disaster men call Arendia is not so much the result of congenital stupidity as it is a combination of blind impulsiveness, an irresistible urge toward high drama, and an inability to back away from a course of action once it’s been embarked upon. At least Kathandrion was willing to listen for a moment before he plunged into something. His first impulse in this case, naturally, was to have Ctuchik’s underling seized and dragged in chains through the streets of Vo Wacune – probably at high noon. He was right on the verge of issuing orders to that effect as we proceeded down the corridor to his throne room.

  ‘Kathandrion,’ I suggested gently, ‘we’re dealing with a conspiracy here. Do we really want to alert all the other conspirators with a public display?’

  He looked quickly at me. ‘Not too bright an idea, right?’ he suggested.

  ‘I’ve heard better.’

  ‘One of these days I’ll have to learn to think my way through a notion before I start issuing commands,’ he said.

  ‘I would, if I were you.’

  ‘I’ll work on it. How would you approach this matter?’

  ‘Lie a little bit. Send a note to Haldon asking him to stop by at his convenience for a bit of private conversation.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t find it convenient until sometime next week?’

  ‘He’ll be here almost immediately, Kathandrion. Trust me. I’ve done this sort of thing before. He’ll take that “at your convenience” to mean just as soon as he gets his clothes on. There are many ways to use power, Kathandrion. A light touch is far better than a sledge-hammer.’

  ‘What a novel thing to suggest. This is Arendia, Polgara. Commands here must be delivered in sh
ort, easy-to-understand language, preferably in words of one syllable or less.’

  I found myself growing fonder of Duke Kathandrion by the moment. The invitation he dictated to a scribe when we returned to the throne room was artfully innocuous, and, as I’d predicted, Haldon arrived within the hour.

  Evening was settling over the fairy-tale city of Vo Wacune as Kathandrion escorted our guest to a room conveniently located near the head of the stairs leading down to the dungeon. There was but a single lamp in the room, and I sat in a chair with a high back and facing the window. Thus, I was to all intents and purposes invisible.

  I carefully sent out my thought as the two of them entered, and the color I encountered didn’t have that characteristic red overtone that would have identified the merchant as Tolnedran, but was dull black instead. The man known as Haldon was a Murgo. I could see his reflection in the glass of the window, and his features had none of the characteristics of the Angarak race. That explained quite a bit.

  ‘It was good of thee to come by on such short notice, worthy Haldon,’ Kathandrion was saying.

  ‘I am ever at your Grace’s call,’ the green-mantled fellow replied, bowing.

  ‘Prithee, sit, my friend. We are alone, so there is no need for ceremony.’ Kathandrion paused artfully. ‘It hath recently been proposed to me that some commercial advantage might accrue to the Duchy of Wacune were I to command some port facilities constructed on the southern bank of the Camaar River within the boundaries of my realm, and it seemed me that thou wert best qualified to evaluate the notion. Would such facilities indeed enhance trade between Wacune and the empire?’

  ‘Indeed they would, your Grace!’ the imitation Tolnedran replied enthusiastically. ‘The emperor himself has frequently expressed interest in just such a project.’

  ‘Splendid!’ Kathandrion said. ‘Capital! In view of our forthcoming alliance, might I prevail upon thee to suggest to thine emperor a sharing of the cost of construction of those facilities?’