Polgara the Sorceress

by David Eddings

  The next morning I suggested to Baron Mandorin that we might want to ‘go out for a little ride, just to stir up our blood’, and once we were some distance to the norm of the city, we entered a fairly extensive grove of trees and found my father dozing beside a merry little stream that burbled busily over stones back in amongst the trees. He opened one eye as we dismounted. ‘What kept you?’ he asked us, and when he stood up, I saw that he was wearing a coarse brown monk’s robe made of burlap.

  ‘What’s this?’ I asked him.

  ‘It’s just my uniform, Pol,’ he replied. ‘I’m going to be duke’s escort as we ride on down-river.’ Then he looked at Mandorin. ‘Amazing,’ he said. ‘Your hair hasn’t turned white yet.’

  Mandorin gave him a puzzled look.

  ‘You’ve been associating with my daughter, haven’t you?’

  ‘Will you please drop all the joking around, father?’ I demanded with some exasperation.

  ‘Probably not, but we can talk about that later. How’ve you been, Mandorin?’

  ‘Well, Ancient One, well.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. If I remember correctly, there’s a small room back behind the duke’s throne. It’s where he usually hangs his robe. Go on back to Vo Mimbre and ask him to step in there for a moment. Pol and I’ll be waiting for the two of you there. I’ll talk with Corrolin for a bit, and then we’ll set out for the monastery.’

  ‘What if – ’I started.

  He sighed that long-suffering sigh that always irritates me. ‘Please, Pol,’ he said. ‘I’ve already covered all the “what-ifs”. Go ahead, Mandorin. Pol and I’ll be waiting in that cloak-room.’

  Mandorin remounted, took Lady’s reins, and rode off, and then father and I fell back on our alternative mode of transportation and were safely ensconced in that half-hidden little attiring-room about a quarter of an hour before the Baron of Vo Mandor even got back inside the palace.

  ‘Ah, there you are, your Grace,’ father said when Mandorin and Corrolin entered the room. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’ He didn’t even bother to rise.

  Father had draped his monk’s robe across the back of an unoccupied chair, and the duke saw only a seedy-looking vagabond with bad manners sitting in a room where he had no apparent business. ‘What doth this mean, Baron Mandorin?’ he demanded sharply of our friend.

  ‘My Lord,’ Mandorin replied, ‘I have the distinct honor to present Holy Belgarath, Disciple of the God Aldur, who hath but recently arrived from Tol Honeth with an urgent communication from His Imperial Majesty, Ran Vordue of Tolnedra.’

  ‘I do confess that I am overwhelmed,’ Corrolin replied, bowing deeply to my vagrant father.

  ‘Hail, Corrolin,’ father said, still not bothering to get up. ‘I knew your father quite well.’ Then he fished around inside his tunic and drew out a folded sheet of parchment with a beribboned wax seal on it. ‘His Imperial Majesty asked me to stop by and give this to you. Please forgive all our subterfuge in this matter, but the contents of Ran Vordue’s note should probably be kept secret.’

  The word ‘secret’ always seems to light fires in the eyes of Arends, and Corrolin was no exception. He took the letter and then looked dubiously at me.

  ‘My niece is privy to the contents of the message, my Lord,’ Mandorin advised him. ‘Indeed, she was instrumental in its delivery.’

  ‘We can get into that later,’ father smoothly glossed over the fact that in Mimbrate eyes my primary concerns should have been gossip, hairstyles and hosiery.

  Corrolin read the imperial message, and his eyes widened a bit. ‘Have I perchance misunderstood the import of this document?’ he asked. ‘Should I have misread it, prithee correct me, but it doth seem that I have been invited to meet His Imperial Majesty.’

  ‘It’d better say that, your Grace,’ father grunted, ‘because that’s the way I dictated it. The meeting is to take place in Tol Vordue in about three days, and the emperor asked me to impress upon you the vital necessity for absolute secrecy in this matter. There are unfriendly eyes – and ears as well – knocking about both here in Mimbre and down there in Tolnedra as well. I think we’ll all want to keep this entire affair tightly under wraps.’

  ‘A wise precaution, Ancient One,’ Corrolin agreed, ‘but how am I to explain this sudden journey into Tolnedra?’

  ‘I’ve taken the liberty of making some arrangements, your Grace,’ father told him, reaching over to pick up the monk’s robe. ‘I’ll wear this and act sort of holy. You’re right on the verge of embarking on a war. Now, war’s a serious business, and no truly devout man undertakes one without a bit of divine guidance. That’s why you sent for me, wasn’t it?’

  Corrolin blinked. ‘Forgive me, Holy One, but I have no recollection of summoning thee.’

  ‘It must have slipped your mind. Anyway, I’m to escort you down-river to that monastery on the coast so that you can consult with the abbot there. That sort of smells religious, wouldn’t you say? On the way, we’ll take a little side trip to Tol Vordue so that you can meet with Ran Vordue. Then we’ll go on to the monastery. You can have your spiritual consultation with the abbot, and then we’ll come home.’ He squinted at the elaborately-garbed duke. ‘Put on something suitably devout, my Lord. When we go back into the throne-room, pray a lot and let me do most of the talking. I’ll make a big issue of the fact that any kind of escort would be an act of impiety and that Chaldan might be offended.’

  ‘I had not heard of such restrictions,’ Corrolin confessed.

  ‘I’d be surprised if you had, your Grace, since I made them up just now. Baron Mandorin and his niece will go on ahead of us, you and I will lèave Vo Mimbre alone, and we’ll all join up again some miles on down the road. Mandorin and Polina have some information that might help you and Ran Vordue in your deliberations at Tol Vordue.’

  Since all Arends just adore intrigue, Corrolin fell in with our scheme immediately, and just as immediately developed that furtive, conspiratorial air that half the population of Arendia habitually wears. Mandorin and I left the pair of them polishing the edges of their scheme and went back to the stables for our horses.

  Our two pilgrims, actually singing hymns as they rode along, joined us about five miles out from Vo Mimbre, and we all rode on down the river road toward the coast.

  We were followed, of course, but that was to be expected. Father took care of it, though, so it didn’t give us any serious problems.

  We camped out that night, and rode on through the next day and well into the evening. My father’s not one to leave things to chance, so he’d hidden a boat in the bushes about a mile upriver from the monastery. We picketed our horses and pushed our boat out into the stream.

  We reached the far shore about midnight and walked on along the dark, deserted road toward the city of Tol Vordue rising behind the impressive east gate. We were met there by a platoon of legionnaires and immediately escorted through the deserted streets to the ancestral house of the Vordue family. The emperor was waiting for us in the courtyard. He was of middle years and tall for a Tolnedran. He also, I noted, had a distinctly military bearing. ‘All went well, I gather?’ he asked my father.

  Father shrugged. ‘No problems,’ he said.

  ‘Good. I’ve had a place for our meeting prepared. I can guarantee that nobody’s going to get close enough to that room to hear our discussions.’ He looked at Corrolin and Mandorin. ‘Which of these gentlemen is Duke Corrolin?’ he asked.

  Father introduced our two Mimbrates, but deliberately glossed over my presence. Then we all trooped inside and climbed an interminable flight of marble stairs to a room at the very top of a tower. It was a stark, businesslike sort of room with a conference table in the center and maps littering its walls.

  ‘I’ll be brief, your Grace,’ the emperor said to Corrolin after we’d seated ourselves at the table. ‘I’m a plain man with no great skill at diplomatic language. Ancient Belgarath here advises me that you’ve been approached by a man going by the name Kador who
’s told you that he speaks for me. He’s lying to you. I’ve never even heard of the man, and it’s entirely possible that he’s not even Tolnedran.’

  Corrolin gaped at him in stunned surprise. ‘But there are legions encamped almost within view of Vo Mimbre!’ he protested.

  ‘You’d better tell him, Pol,’ father suggested.

  ‘Forgive me, Ancient One,’ Corrolin floundered, ‘but how would Lady Polina have information concerning Tolnedran legions?’

  ‘Is there any need to keep playing this game, Pol?’ father asked me.

  ‘No,’ I replied, ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘Good. Let’s clear the air, then. Duke Corrolin, I have the honor to present my daughter Polgara.’

  Corrolin’s quick glance at Mandorin was slightly accusatory.

  ‘Baron Mandorin did not lie to you, your Grace,’ I jumped to my friend’s defense. ‘By church law, he is, in fact, my uncle. He adopted me in front of a priest of Chaldan before we came to Vo Mimbre. I needed a disguise, so I forced him to do it. It was necessary, so let’s not make an issue of it.’ Then I paused. ‘I’ll put this in very blunt terms, your Grace. There are not, in fact, any legions stationed across the river from Vo Mimbre. I went down there and had a look for myself. Count Oldon, who appears to be in Kador’s pocket, has decked out some of his workmen in legion uniforms just for show.’

  ‘She’s telling you the truth, your Grace,’ Ran Vordue assured him. ‘I have not offered an alliance with any faction in Arendia, and I most definitely haven’t stationed any of my legions on your southern frontier. This Kador has duped you.’ Then the emperor looked at me appraisingly. ‘Ancient Belgarath strongly hinted that his daughter here has been running around Arendia putting out fires for the past several weeks now. Maybe we can prevail upon her to give us some details.’

  And so I recounted the stories of what had happened in Vo Wacune and Vo Astur for them and revealed what I’d picked up so far in Vo Mimbre. ‘It’s all been a hoax, gentlemen,’ I concluded. ‘Ctuchik’s been trying to foment a war between Arendia and Tolnedra, hoping that His Imperial Majesty would annex Arendia – which would bring the Alorns into the picture. That’s what Ctuchik really wants – a war between the Empire and the Alorns. Arendia would have been no more than a pawn in the larger game.’

  ‘I shall obliterate the villain Kador!’ Corrolin burst out.

  ‘I’d really rather you didn’t, old boy,’ Ran Vordue told him. ‘Deport him back to Tolnedra instead – along with all his underlings. Let me deal with them.’ He smiled faintly. ‘My birthday’s not far off,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you give the lot of them to me as a present?’

  ‘It shall be my excruciating pleasure to do as thou hast requested, your Imperial Majesty,’ Corrolin agreed. ‘I shall devote mine own attentions to such Mimbrate knights as have fallen in with this Murgo plot. They shall feel my displeasure most keenly.’

  ‘Stout fellow,’ Ran Vordue murmured. Then he looked at me. ‘How did you find out about all this, Lady Polgara? My sources tell me that you’ve been ensconced in the Vale for the past several centuries.’

  ‘Our Master brought it to my attention, your Majesty. Evidently he feels that I should spend some more time in the field of practical politics to broaden my horizons.’

  ‘That brings up an interesting point,’ father said, looking directly at me. ‘The Master put this in your hands, Pol, so you’re the one who’s running things this time. What do we do now?’

  ‘I’ll get you for that, father,’ I threatened him.

  ‘You mean you’ll try. Why don’t you throw something on the table? Then the rest of us can take it apart and tell you why it won’t work.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘let me see.’ I fished around for something logical. ‘If we look at it in a certain way, Ctuchik’s done us a favor here. There’s been a certain ecumenicism in his plotting. He duped all three dukes with exactly the same ploy, offering each one an alliance with Ran Vordue. Since Asturia, Wacune, and Mimbre were all deceived in the same way, couldn’t we build on that shared experience? Why don’t we just skip the war this time and go directly to the peace-conference? I’ve got a certain influence with Kathandrion and Mangaran. If Duke Corrolin invites them to a conference at – oh, let’s say the Arendish Fair – I think I’ll be able to persuade them to attend.’

  ‘She makes sense, Belgarath,’ Ran Vordue sided with me. ‘Have you got any idea of how much it’s costing me to keep fifteen legions in the garrison here in Tol Vordue, just in case the hostilities in Arendia happen to spill over into Tolnedra? I can find better uses for those troops, and for the money I’m wasting on them.’

  ‘I, too, find merit in Lady Polgara’s proposal,’ Mandorin agreed. ‘Endless war doth in time grow tiring. Mayhap, for the sake of novelty, we might try endless peace for a few months.’

  ‘Cynic,’ my father accused him. Then he stood up. ‘Why don’t we just let my daughter bully all concerned to the peace table at the Great Fair?’ he proposed.

  ‘Bully?’ I protested.

  ‘Isn’t that what you’re going to do?’

  ‘If I have to, yes, but that’s such an ugly word. Couldn’t we call it something a little nicer?’

  ‘Which word would you prefer?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ll work on it and let you know what I decide.’

  ‘I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t hold my breath.’

  Father rowed us back across the estuary at the mouth of the River Arend shortly before dawn. I’ve noticed any number of times that he’ll do things like that when he decides that he’s the best one available for what would otherwise be a menial task. Both Mandorin and Corrolin were knights, far more at home on horseback than at the oars of a small boat. My father’s not one to take chances. I could probably have done it at least as well as he did, but he evidently didn’t think of that – and I certainly wasn’t going to suggest it.

  Dawn was in full flower when we beached our boat, re-saddled our horses, and rode on to the monastery. Corrolin dutifully conferred with the abbot for about a quarter of an hour – although I couldn’t for the life of me understand what they might have talked about. Corrolin was not going to war. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was asking the abbot to convey his apologies to Chaldan for not slaughtering his neighbors. When he came out of the monastery, we took the high road that led back to Vo Mimbre. We stopped after a mile or so, though, and I cooked breakfast for us over a roadside campfire – quite a good breakfast, as I recall. My friends all ate too much, naturally, and father, now that he had a full stomach, decided that a little rest might be in order. ‘We did stay up all night,’ he reminded us. ‘I can sleep in my saddle, if I really have to, but somebody’s going to have to stay alert enough to steer the horses. Why don’t we catch some sleep and then move on?’

  We rode back a ways from the road under the leafy green canopy of the trees, unrolled our blankets, and committed ourselves to sleep. I was just on the verge of dozing off when mother’s voice murmured in my drowsy brain. ‘Very nicely done, Polgara,’ she complimented me.

  ‘I rather thought so myself,’ I agreed modestly.

  ‘You sound tired.’

  ‘I am, rather.’

  ‘Why don’t you sleep then?’

  And I did, dropping off right between one thought and the next.

  We all awoke about mid-afternoon and rode on to a rather shabby little inn, where we spent the night. We arose early the following morning, and we then rode straight on to Vo Mimbre.

  Duke Corrolin had been mightily provoked by what his meeting with Ran Vordue had revealed, and he moved quickly, issuing orders, but no explanations. Then he invited the entire court into the throne-room where armored knights stood guard along the walls. To everyone’s surprise – even mine – the duke entered the throne-room in full armor and carrying a huge two-handed broadsword. He did not sit down on his throne. ‘My Lords and Ladies,’ he began, speaking with unusual crispness for a Mimbrate Arend. ‘I have b
ut recently returned from Tol Vordue, where the emperor of Tolnedra and I did confer at some length. The outcome of that conference was a happy one. Rejoice, my loyal subjects. There will be no war.’

  That got a mixed reaction, Arends being what they are and all.

  Corrolin, his face bleak, smashed his mailed fist down on the back of his throne. ‘Be not dismayed, my Lords and Ladies,’ he boomed. “There will be other entertainments. An extensive conspiracy hath of late befouled the air – not only here in Mimbre, but in Asturia and Wacune as well. It is my firm intention to cleanse the air here. Seize them!’ This last command was issued to Mandorin and the two-score knights under his command, and Mandorin was quick to carry it out – so quick in fact that there were hardly any casualties. A dozen or so Tolnedrans, both genuine and spurious, were clapped in irons, and several Mimbrate nobles were treated in the same way.

  The Grolim who’d been posing as a servant in Kador’s entourage ducked under the arm of the knight who was in the middle of enfolding him in a steely embrace and darted for the door, gathering his Will as he ran. My father, however, was ready for him. Still garbed in that burlap monk’s robe, the Old Wolf delivered a crashing blow to the side of the Grolim’s head with his fist, and the priest of the Dragon-God fell senseless to the floor. Father, I noticed, had judiciously enveloped his right fist in lead, and his blow would have felled an ox. ‘Holy Belgarath’ has a colorful background, and I’ve noticed over the years that he’ll resort to the tactics of tavern brawling almost as quickly as he’ll fall back on sorcery.

  The prisoners were all dragged from the room, and then Duke Corrolin described in somewhat tedious detail the Murgo plot which had come to within inches of succeeding. Then, while all the court was still in shock, he told them of the peace-conference that was already in the works. That caused a certain amount of grumbling, but the Duke of Mimbre ran roughshod over the protests. When you put an Arend in full armor, you can’t really expect a velvet touch.