Polgara the Sorceress

by David Eddings

  It pains me to say it about my own gender, but young women, particularly young noblewomen, are a silly lot, and their conversation is top-full of empty-headed frivolity – mostly having to do with decorating themselves in such ways as to attract attention. I take a certain amount of comfort in the fact that young men aren’t much better. From a clinical point of view, the condition has a chemical basis, but I don’t know that discussing it at length right here would serve any useful purpose.

  The white satin ribbons braided in my hair drew many compliments – and not a few imitations later – and the style made me appear younger, so the gaggle of giggling girls assumed that I shared their views on life, and they’d graciously ‘rescued’ me from tiresome discussions of such boring topics as the onset of general war and the mass extermination of virtually everyone on the western side of the Eastern Escarpment. I was thus treated to a fascinating afternoon of intense speculation about the impact of hemlines and hairstyles on the world situation.

  Although Baron Mandorin – dare I say, uncle Mandy? – had been alerted to what was really happening and could report the details of discussions from which my gender and apparent age excluded me, there would be things happening of which he would not be aware. I needed to be present at those discussions, and, now that I’d been brought up to date on current fashions, I felt that it was time to move on. I ‘just happened’ to come down with a very bad case of sick headache the next morning and shooed my playmates out of my rooms. Then I went to the window and ‘went sparrow’, to use my father’s rather succinct characterization of the process.

  It was still summer, so the windows of Corrolin’s palace were all open, and that gave me all the opportunity I needed to eavesdrop on the discussions of the Privy Council. I settled on the window-sill, chirped a couple of times to let everyone know that I was only a bird, and then cocked my head to listen.

  Duke Corrolin was speaking to a squinty-eyed, swarthy fellow in a pale blue Tolnedran mantle. ‘I must advise thee, worthy Kador, that word hath but recently arrived from the northern duchies which doth advise us that Duke Oldoran hath fallen gravely ill by reason of some obscure malady. The governance of Asturia hath been placed in the hands of an aged earl yclept Mangaran.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kador replied, ‘my own sources have confirmed this as well, your Grace. The initiative in the north, however, lies in the hands of Duke Kathandrion, and I’ve heard nothing to indicate that he’s changed his mind about invading Asturia. It doesn’t really matter who holds power in Vo Astur, since our plan hinges almost entirely on what’s taking place in Vo Wacune.’

  The thought I sent out was so light as to be virtually unnoticed, and the color which responded to it was dull black. Kador was not the Grolim. That startled me more than a little, and it troubled me even more. If I started probing every mind in that room, the Grolim, whoever he was, would eventually sense that someone was looking for him.

  Then a rather ordinary-looking Tolnedran – a servant, judging by his clothing – came forward and murmured something to Kador. ‘Ah,’ Kador said. ‘Thank you.’ Then he turned back to the duke – but not before a momentary flicker of hard, glossy black ever so briefly touched my awareness. I’d found my Grolim, but I couldn’t quite fathom out exactly why he’d chosen to remain in the background. From what father and my uncles had told me about the Angaraks, it was decidedly unGrolimish for a priest of the Dragon-God to assume the guise of a servant.

  ‘My Lord,’ Kador was saying to Corrolin, ‘all is proceeding according to our plan. The remainder of the legions will be in place before the week is out. If I might be so bold as to suggest it, might this not be a good time for your knights to begin their journey toward the Ulgo frontier? The general in command of the legions will order his troops north as soon as his force is fully assembled. Your mounted men will move more rapidly, of course, but they have much farther to travel, and the terrain in the foothills of the Ulgo Mountains will make for slow going. Timing will be all-important when we move against Wacune.’

  ‘It may well be as thou sayest, worthy Kador,’ Corrolin admitted. ‘I shall dispatch an advance party to the east on the morrow. When the legions of His Imperial Majesty do interject themselves into northern Arendia, my knights will be in place.’

  In that single phrase ‘the legions of His Imperial Majesty’ Kador had summed up the core of my problem. Bribing an individual Tolnedran posed no particular difficulty, but bribing forty legion commanders? That might be a bit more challenging.

  Then a rather horrid suspicion began to intrude itself upon me, and I did something I haven’t done very often. Baron Mandorin, resplendent in his armor, sat at the long table with the other members of the Privy Council, and I sent my thought – and my silent voice – out to him. ‘Uncle,’ I said to him, ‘don’t look around, and don’t let your face show any sign that I’m talking to you. I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to think the answers. Don’t say anything out loud.’

  “This is a wondrous thing, Lady Polgara,’ his thought responded. ‘Canst thou truly hear my thought?’

  ‘You’re doing just fine, Uncle. Now, then, has anyone other than Kador and his henchmen actually seen the legions that are supposedly encamped a few miles to the south?’

  ‘Their watch-fires are clearly visible from the south wall of the city, my Lady.’

  ‘Anybody can light a fire, Mandorin. Has any Mimbrate at all bothered to go down into Tolnedra to actually count the soldiers who are supposed to be camped there?’

  ‘The Tolnedrans do not welcome incursions into their territory, my Lady, and in the light of our current delicate negotiations it would be discourteous in the extreme for us to intrude upon the ancestral home of our ally to the south.’

  I said something I probably shouldn’t have at that point.

  ‘Polgara!’ Mandorin gasped in shock at my choice of words.

  ‘Sorry, Uncle,’ I apologized. ‘It just slipped out. Will you be in your chambers after this meeting breaks up?’

  ‘An it please thee, yes.’

  ‘It will please me, uncle. I’ll be gone for the rest of the day, and when I come back, we’ll need to talk, I think.’

  I fluttered away from my listening post on the window-sill of the council chamber, found another window that faced out from an empty chamber, and transformed myself into the falcon that was always the alternative to my preferred form. Owls are conspicuous in the daytime, after all.

  It didn’t take me long to confirm my suspicions. Although there were mounted patrols of men in legion uniforms near the south bank of the River Arend that marks the boundary between Arendia and Tolnedra, when I flew on, I saw no more men. There were several standard legion encampments in the forest with all the usual appurtenances of legion camps – log palisades, neatly pitched tents along what could only be called streets, and legion banners fluttering above the gates – but those camps were empty. My suspicions had just been confirmed. There were perhaps fifty men in legion uniforms patrolling near the border, but that was the entire extent of the supposed invasion force.

  I flew back toward the border and swooped down to settle on a tree limb for a bit of constructive eavesdropping.

  ‘This is the most tedious job I’ve ever had, Ralas,’ I heard one unshaven fellow complain to his companion as they rode under my tree.

  ‘Oh, it’s not so bad, Geller,’ Ralas replied. ‘We could all be back at the lumber-camp chopping down oak-trees, you know. All we have to do here is ride up and down the river and tend a few fires at night.’

  ‘I don’t see any point to it, Ralas.’

  ‘We’re getting paid for it, Geller. That’s the only point that matters to me. If Count Oldon wants us to patrol the northern boundary of his estate, I’ll be happy to oblige him for as long as he wants. The horse does all the work, and that suits me right down to the ground.’

  ‘We could get in trouble for wearing these uniforms, you know,’ Geller told him, rapping on his breastplate.r />
  ‘Not a chance. If you look very closely at your cloak, you’ll find the count’s crest embroidered on it instead of the imperial one. Nobody but an idiot’s going to mistake us for real legionnaires.’

  ‘Nedra’s teeth!’ Geller swore, slapping at a mosquito. ‘Why do we have to stay so close to that accursed river?’

  Ralas shrugged. ‘The Count wants us to be seen from the Arendish side, I guess. I don’t ask him questions – except for maybe, “When do I get paid?” That’s all I care about.’

  ‘I want to know why!’ Geller burst out. ‘What’s the point of this silly business?’

  I probably could have told him, but, since curiosity is the ultimate mother of wisdom, I decided to let him continue his journey along the beaten path to knowledge without any interference from me.

  Chapter 16

  Baron Mandorin was in the throne-room when I returned to the palace in Vo Mimbre, and I crossed the ornate chamber with a purposeful expression. I didn’t have time for pleasantries. ‘We need to talk, uncle,’ I told him, ‘now.’

  He looked a little startled at my abrupt approach, but that was just too bad. Our departure from that ceremonial hall might have seemed somewhat leisurely, but we went directly across to the door and on out into the corridor.

  ‘The matter, I do perceive, hath a certain urgency?’ he suggested.

  ‘Not here, uncle,’ I told him. ‘Wait until we’re sure we’re alone.’

  He got my point. We went to his chambers and he closed and locked the door behind us.

  ‘And now – ?’ he began, his face curious.

  ‘I’ve just spent a rather tedious afternoon over across the river, uncle. I searched all over for those Tolnedran legions everyone’s talking about, but guess what? I didn’t find them.’

  ‘But they are quite clearly visible from the city walls, Lady Polgara.’

  ‘Oh no they’re not, Baron Mandorin. What you’ve been seeing from the walls are common workmen dressed up in legion uniforms. There are several standard-looking legion encampments back under the trees as well, but those encampments are empty. There are probably no more than fifty men over there. They patrol the riverbank in the daytime and tend the watch fires at night. It’s all for show, Mandorin. There’s no military presence over there. Who’s Count Oldon?’

  ‘He is a member of Kadon’s party, my Lady, and if I have heard aright, his estates do stand opposite our city here.’

  That would explain it then. He’s pressed woodcutters and other laborers into his private little army, and that army has just one mission – to convince Duke Corrolin that there are genuine legions camped across the river. It’s all a sham. Corrolin and his staff have been duped. What’s going on here in Vo Mimbre is just more of the same sort of thing I encountered in Vo Wacune and Vo Astur.’

  ‘I shall denounce the villain Kador publicly,’ Mandorin declared hotly, ‘and prove the truth of my words upon his body.’

  ‘All that would prove is that you’re a better swordsman than he is. We’re going to have to come up with something better.’ I considered it for a moment. ‘I think it’s time for Corrolin to have a talk with Ran Vordue in person. That’s probably the only thing that’s going to convince him.’

  ‘Would His Imperial Majesty consent to such a meeting?’

  ‘He will if we send the right messenger. My father’s lurking about somewhere nearby – keeping an eye on me, I think. I’ll suggest that he take a little trip to Tol Honeth – for reasons of his health.’

  ‘Is he unwell?’

  ‘He will be if he doesn’t make that trip when I tell him to.’ I considered it. ‘I don’t think the meeting should take place here in Vo Mimbre,’ I said. ‘Let’s not alert the opposition. Tol Vordue would be better, I think. I’ll talk with father about it and see what he says. This plot we’re up against has been months in the making, Mandorin, and it’d take us more months to unravel it. A meeting between Corrolin and Ran Vordue would cut across all that tiresome business. Corrolin will come back to Vo Mimbre with the keys to his dungeon already in his hand.’

  ‘I had not thought that affairs of state could move so rapidly, my Lady,’ he marveled. ‘Things here have a more leisurely pace.’

  ‘We don’t have much leisure, Baron. Corrolin’s advance parties will be leaving Vo Mimbre tomorrow morning, and the rest of his force won’t be far behind. If we don’t move fast, there’ll be too much momentum for us to turn things around. Oh, one more thing. Please keep this entirely to yourself. We don’t need anybody else involved. Anytime more than two people know a secret, it’s not a secret any more. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go give my father his marching orders.’

  I left Baron Mandorin with a troubled expression on his face and went directly to my own quarters. I closed the door behind me and took a few precautions. Kador did have that Grolim in his party, after all. ‘Father,’ I sent out my thought then, ‘I need you.’

  ‘For someone who’s pretending to be so independent, you’re calling me out of the bushes fairly often, Pol,’ he complained.

  ‘Stop trying to be funny. I want you to go to Tol Honeth and tell Ran Vordue about what’s going on here in Arendia. It’ll probably get his attention. I want him to go to Tol Vordue to meet with Duke Corrolin and explain – very patiently – that he hasn’t got the faintest idea about what’s behind all these pseudo alliances. Have him send an official messenger to Mandorin, and the baron will get him in to meet with Corrolin. I want the duke to meet with Ran Vordue personally in Tol Vordue before the week’s out, and I don’t want anybody here in Vo Mimbre to know about that meeting.’

  ‘I’ll carry the message myself, if you’d like.’ That was a surprise. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

  ‘You might see if you can think up a way for me to get Corrolin out of Vo Mimbre and on down-river to Tol Vordue without having about half of his court trailing along behind,’ I suggested. ‘It’s got me a little baffled.’

  ‘I’ll think of something. I’ve probably said this before, Pol, but you’re very good at the sneaky side of politics.’

  ‘Why, thank you, kind sir. You’re not so bad yourself, you know.’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve had more practice. Are things coming to a head here?’

  ‘They’re getting close, so don’t dawdle, father. Let’s step right along here.’

  The next morning we all watched fifty or so Mimbrate knights, mounted and steel clad, go clanking out of the courtyard with banners flying. It was probably only on an off-chance that I heard the words, ‘Bear-Cult’ come from somewhere in the crowd. I circulated a bit, and I didn’t actually have to go far in search of a repetition. It seemed that everybody in the palace was talking about that peculiar Alorn aberration. It was obvious that Ctuchik’s underlings had been busily spreading wild stories. The goals of the Cult were absurd enough already, but the rumors that were circulating that morning left absurdity far behind. The purpose, obviously, was to stir hatred, fear, and distrust. It had been the unity of Torak’s brothers that had defeated the Dragon-God during the War of the Gods, and Ctuchik was doing everything in his power to dismember that unity.

  I suppose I might have tried to squelch all those rumors, but I’d long since discovered that there’s no real way to stop a rumor once it’s gained a foothold.

  It was late afternoon of the following day when father’s thought resounded in my head. ‘Rejoice, my beloved daughter,’ he announced, ‘for I, with all my unspeakable skill, have accomplished the task you dropped in my lap.’

  ‘Will you please be serious, father? Did Ran Vordue agree to meet the duke?’

  ‘Of course he did. Have I ever disappointed you?’

  ‘Frequently, as a matter of fact. Have you got his message?’

  ‘It’s somewhere in one of my pockets, I think. Oh, incidentally, when I give the letter to Corrolin, I’m going to suggest that he make a religious pilgrimage.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘I’ll ask him
to put on some humble-looking clothes and ride on down-river to that monastery at the mouth of the River Arend that’s just across from Tol Vordue. The duke’s right on the verge of going to war, and Arends always make some show of praying for victory before they go out to do violence upon their neighbors. It’s a quaint custom of the race. A pilgrimage is sort of private, so Corrolin won’t be taking much of an escort with him – just you and Mandorin, if I can arrange it. It shouldn’t be too difficult to slip him across the river to Tol Vordue once we reach the coast. Was that sort of what you had in mind?’

  ‘It should work out just fine, father. When will you be arriving here in Vo Mimbre?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning. I’m going to have to stop and get something to eat. I guess I startled Ran Vordue so much that he forgot his manners. He didn’t offer me any supper, and I’m absolutely famished. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Sleep well, Pol.’

  And I did that. I’d probably deny it were someone to suggest it, but I always feel more secure when father takes a hand in something I’m working on. He has his faults, but once he gets down to business, he’s as inexorable as the tides.