The benefits of the arrangement worked both ways, since continuity’s very important to someone in my peculiar situation. As Killane himself might have put it, ‘If yer after plannin’ t’ live ferever, yer bound t’ git lonesome once in a while, don’t y’ know.’ My hereditary retainers, both in my house in Vo Wacune and in my country estate on Lake Erat, filled in that enormous gap that the mortality of loved ones always brings into our lives.
Most of my original vassals had also died by the time that the century wound down toward the year 2400, and their successors had somehow learned better manners. The threat of what was wryly called ‘Nerasin’s complaint’ in most of Arendia hovered over their heads, and even though they might disagree with some of my social innovations, they were prudent enough to keep their objections to themselves. The fact that their former serfs were no longer bound to the land in de facto slavery encouraged them to be polite to their workers as well – particularly after a fair number of cruel, arrogant landholders discovered that they had no workers when harvest time rolled around and they were obliged to stand helplessly watching while their crops rotted in the fields. I like to think that I might have played some small part in establishing that polite civility which is so characteristic of the archetypal Sendar. Experimenting with societies is a very engrossing pastime, wouldn’t you say?
What I did in my duchy was quite deliberate, but what happened in Vo Wacune was almost an accident. I spent a great deal of my time there at the palace, since my position almost demanded that I immerse myself in politics. Politics, however, is a male preoccupation, and there were days when I wanted to be with women. Occasionally, I’d invite certain selected young ladies to my town house so that we could discuss matters that men simply wouldn’t understand. As I’d observed earlier, Arendish ladies were – on the surface at least – a giddy, seemingly brainless group, interested only in fashions, gossip, and snagging suitable husbands. There were, however, Arendish ladies who had something between their ears besides fluff. Asrana had been a perfect example of that peculiarity. I winnowed my way through the court of the Duke of Wacune and skimmed off the best and brightest young ladies and, by carefully manipulating the seemingly random conversations in my library or my rose garden, I began to educate them. It’s always a delight to watch the awakening of a mind, and after a while the random discussions at my house turned away from current fashions and empty gossip to more serious matters. My informal ‘ladies academy’ produced quite a few women who had a significant impact on Wacite political and social life. Women instinctively know how to gently guide and direct their husbands, and my little school subtly modified some things I heartily disapproved of.
We’d gather in my rose garden or on the terrace in the evenings as the stars came out. We’d eat chilled fruit my kitchen boy brought us, and we’d listen as the nightingales sang as if their hearts were breaking. And, since I’d gathered most of the more beautiful and interesting young women at court, the young men would come to the street outside my house and serenade us from just beyond the walls in clear tenor voices that dripped with longing. There are worse ways to spend an evening.
The twenty-fifth century was a time of relative peace in Arendia. There were occasional little brush-fires, of course, usually involving long-standing feuds between neighboring barons, but the Arendish dukes, applying sweet reason and the threat of overwhelming force, were able to smother the flames with only minimal help from me. I did make one suggestion, though, that seemed to be very effective. A vassal is obliged to provide his lord with warriors whenever the lord calls for them. The dukes found that peace would break out almost immediately when feuding barons were neatly stripped of all able-bodied men by the calling in of that obligation.
The world was moving on beyond the borders of Arendia. The raids along the Tolnedran coast by Cherek pirates continued through the twenty-fifth century, long after the reason behind them had been forgotten. No one even remembered Maragor, but the Chereks, those most elemental Alorns, continued to sack and burn Tolnedran coastal cities while piously explaining their barbarism by saying that they were simply following Belar’s orders. All that ended rather abruptly with the ascension of the first Borune dynasty to the imperial throne in Tol Honeth in the year 2537. Ran Borune I was far more competent than had been his predecessors of the second Vorduvian dynasty. He rousted his slothful legions out of their comfortable garrison in Tol Honeth and put them to work building the highway that runs from the mouth of the Nedrane River north to Tol Vordue. The construction put legion encampments all along the coast within easy reach of the traditional Cherek targets, and the Cherek freebooters began to encounter much stiffer resistance when they came ashore. It was about that point that the Chereks decided that they’d fulfilled their religious obligations and that it was time to go find someplace else to play.
Since Ran Borune was the first of his family to occupy the imperial throne, his palace still crawled with left-over Vorduvians whose characters covered the spectrum from the near side of rascalism to the far boundaries of outright criminality. The Vorduvians had been much impressed with Ctuchik’s elaborate scheme early in the twenty-fourth century. The ongoing Arendish civil wars had given the Vorduvians all sorts of opportunities to make obscene profits – largely in the arms trade. What was known in Arendia as ‘Polgara’s Peace’ dried up their markets, and my name was routinely cursed from Tol Vordue to Tol Horb and Tol Honeth. The Borunes were a southern family, so they were not in a geographical position to be much involved in the arms trade in Arendia, so Ran Borune saw no real reason to fall in with some of the more exotic solutions to the problem suggested by the Vorduvians, the Horbites, and the Honethites.
It must have been in about 2560, after the Chereks had decided that raiding the Tolnedran coast wasn’t fun anymore, that a cabal of those three families decided to stir things up in Arendia. They approached the then current duke of Mimbre, a young fellow named Salereon, and opened that box which I’d assumed had been permanently nailed shut. They began by addressing Salereon as ‘your Majesty’ and explained that by saying that since Mimbre was the largest of the four duchies, the Duke of Mimbre was in reality the king of all Arendia – just as soon as he got around to annexing the rest of us. Fortunately, my careful training of the Arendish dukes took over at that point. Salereon, accompanied by only a few retainers, rode north and arrived at my manor house in the late spring to discuss the business.
‘Methought I should consult with thee ere I embarked upon this venture, your Grace,’ he said earnestly when the two of us were alone in my library. Salereon was a nice boy, but fearfully dense. In a way, he was actually asking my permission to declare war on me. I wasn’t sure whether to explode in rage or to laugh in his face. Instead, I carefully – and slowly – explained what his Tolnedran ‘friends’ were trying to accomplish.
‘I do confess that I had not considered that, your Grace,’ he admitted. ‘I had thought that, since the reasoning of the Tolnedran emissaries seemed so sound, it might have been the course of wisdom to present the matter to the Arendish Council at our meeting this very summer. It was my thought that once I had clarified the matter for thee and my dear brothers of Wacune and Asturia, I might be declared King of Arendia by general consent, thereby avoiding any disruption of our cordial relations.’ He was actually sincere!
‘Oh, dear,’ I said.
‘I do perceive that thou hast found some flaw in this most excellent proposal,’ he said, looking slightly surprised.
‘Dear, dear Salereon,’ I said as gently as I could, ‘what would you say if Nanteron of Wacune or Lendrin of Asturia came to the meeting this summer, each declaring that he was the natural bom King of Arendia?’
‘I should immediately surmise that they had taken leave of their senses, Lady Polgara. Such declarations would be absurd.’ Then the sunrise of understanding began to dawn – faintly – in his eyes. He looked a bit sheepish. ‘Bad decision there, wot?’ he suggested.
I impulsively embra
ced the startled young duke. ‘Your decision to bring this to me before you dropped the matter on the council table verged on sheer genius, however, Salereon,’ I complimented him.
‘That characterization hath not been applied to me previously, my lady,’ he admitted. ‘It seemeth to me that mine understanding might be somewhat deficient. Such being the case, mayhap I should be guided by thee in this.’
That’s another good decision, your Grace. You’re getting better at this.’ I considered it. ‘I think I’ll call in Nanteron and Lendrin,’ I mused. ‘Maybe this year we should hold the meeting of the Arendish Council here, instead of at the fair. I’ll take steps to keep Tolnedrans away while the four of us talk this out. Let’s keep the Arendish Council meeting in the family this time.’
Within the week, Nanteron of Wacune and Lendrin of Asturia arrived. I took them individually aside and threatened them with all sorts of horrors if they so much as cracked a smile when I announced the full extent of Salereon’s mental deficiencies. I’m sure they got my point.
After we’d discussed the matter at some length, I decided that the best way to keep the Vorduvians, the Honeths, and the Horbites from meddling in Arendish internal affairs would be to place the whole business before Ran Borune I himself, and I volunteered to go to Tol Honeth and have a little chat with his Imperial Majesty in person.
I decided to skip over all the tedious formalities that would normally precede such a meeting and flew south to Tol Honeth. It took me a day or so of fluttering around the extensive grounds of the imperial compound until I found an opportunity simply too good to pass up. As it turned out, Ran Borune and I shared a hobby. The first of the Borunes was as passionate as I was about roses, and he spent several hours each day in his garden. I settled on a tree limb there and resumed my own form while he was carefully examining a somewhat sickly rose-bush.
‘I think it needs more fertilizer, your Majesty,’ I suggested quite calmly.
He spun around with a startled oath. He was a small man, even for a Tolnedran, and his gold mantle, the badge of his rank, seemed just a bit showy for the task in which he was engaged.
‘Help me down, if you would please, your Majesty, and I’ll have a look at the poor thing,’ I said pleasantly.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded, ‘and how did you get past the guards?’
‘You probably know my father, Ran Borune,’ I replied. ‘He’s a seedy-looking old fellow with white whiskers and a tendency to tell people what to do. He’s been acquainted with your family for about five centuries now.’
‘You mean Belgarath?’
That’s him.’
‘That would mean that you’re Polgara, the Duchess of Erat.’
‘Exactly. I thought it might be best if we spoke privately. Would you give me a hand, please. A tree limb’s not the most dignified place to perch while one’s discussing matters of state.’
He helped me down, and his eyes were a little wild.
I looked at his sickly rose-bush. ‘Bury a dead fish in amongst its roots, Ran Borune,’ I advised. ‘You planted it a little too close to that overhanging roof. The rain water’s been leaching all the nutrients out of the soil. You might give some thought to moving it next winter after it’s gone dormant. Now then, there’s something going on that you ought to know about. The Vorduvians, Honeths, and Horbites are meddling in Arendish affairs, and we’d like to have them stop it.’
His look became exasperated. ‘What are they up to now?’ he demanded.
They approached Duke Salereon of Mimbre and filled his head with royal ambitions. The poor boy was completely taken in by their flattery, and he was right on the verge of declaring himself the king of all Arendia. That would have re-started the Arendish civil wars almost immediately. I’ve spent a great deal of time and effort imposing peace on Arendia, and I’d really like to keep things up there quiet.’
‘Those idiots!’ he exploded.
‘My sentiments exactly, your Majesty. Your northern nobles are a greedy lot, and they’re involved in the arms trade. Peace in Arendia’s cutting into their profits, so they’re trying to stir things up. I’m going to do something rather radical about it, and I thought I ought to let you know why I need to take those steps.’
‘You’re going to invade northern Tolnedra?’ He said it with a certain enthusiasm.
‘No, Ran Borune,’ I replied. ‘I won’t violate your borders. I’m going to close mine instead. The dukes of Arendia will do exactly as I tell them to do, so I’m going to close all our borders to Tolnedrans for a while.’
His face went dead white at that.
‘Only for a year or so, your Majesty,’ I assured him – ‘just long enough to get my point across to the Honeths, Horbites, and Vorduvians. It won’t quite bankrupt them, but it’ll come close. It won’t have much effect on the Borunes, the Anadiles, or the Ranites, since you’re all in southern Tolnedra, but it’ll definitely have an impact on the northern Tolnedrans. I’m going to keep them from tampering with the peace agreements in Arendia, and this is the best way I can think of to get their attention. I want them to bang their heads against those closed borders for a while and to try living without the profits they’re bleeding out of Arendia. I think they’ll come around after a while, don’t you?’
His answering grin was almost vicious. ‘I owe you, Polgara,’ he said.
‘I didn’t exactly follow that.’
‘My family has certain interests in the commerce with Arendia. If we sell out now, we’ll make a very handsome profit, and if you close the Arendish borders to all Tolnedrans, those holdings are going to be worthless. We’ll make vast amounts of money, and the northern families – who aren’t among my dearest friends anyway – will take a sound drubbing.’
‘What a shame,’ I murmured.
‘Isn’t it, though? And, since I command the legions, I think my army’s going to be far too busy with other matters to have time to run north to force the Arendish frontier.’
‘Isn’t that tragic?’ Ran Borune and I were getting along very well.
‘One favor, Polgara – in return for my withholding the legions from the northern families.’
‘Feel free to ask, dear boy.’
‘You will let me know when you’re going to re-open those borders, won’t you? Perhaps a week in advance? Long enough for me to buy up most of the assets of the Vorduvians, Honeths, and Horbites, at any rate. I should be able to buy them out at well below cost. Then, when normal commerce with Arendia resumes, I’ll make millions.’
‘I always like to help a friend get ahead in the world,’ I said.
‘Polgara, I love you!’ he exclaimed exultantly.
‘Ran Borune!’ I said in feigned shock, ‘we’ve only just met!’
He laughed, and then he danced a little jig of pure delight. ‘I’ll skin them, Polgara!’ he crowed. ‘I’ll skin them alive! I’ll put those arrogant northerners in debt for generations!’
‘After you’ve stripped off their hides, you don’t necessarily have to keep my part in our little arrangement a secret. I think it’d be sort of nice to have all of northern Tolnedra shudder every time someone so much as whispers my name.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ he promised. Then he pointed at his ailing rose-bush. ‘What kind of fish?’ he asked.
‘Carp, I think,’ I replied. They’re bigger – and fatter.’
‘I’ll get right at it. Would you like to go fishing with me?’
‘Some other time, perhaps. I’d better get on back to Arendia. I’ll close the borders in two weeks. That should give you time enough to swindle the northerners.’
‘Come by any time, Polgara. My doors are always open to you.’
I changed form at that point. Ran Borune and I were getting along famously, but I did want him to remember exactly who I was. I circled him, brushing his startled face with my wing-tips, and then I flew off.
There are many ways to head off a war, but I’m particularly proud of that one. Not only did I virtuall
y ruin the people who were most offending me, but I also gained a friend.
Arendia remained peaceful after that, and I even began to arrange a few intermarriages to help blur the distinctions which had always been so helpful in starting new wars.
It was early in the twenty-eighth century – about 2710, I believe – when the dukes, Gonerian of Wacune, Kanallan of Asturia, and Enasian of Mimbre made a suggestion that I thought was just a bit on the ridiculous side, but they were so enthusiastic about the whole idea that I somewhat reluctantly went along with them. I think the notion probably originated with Enasian, since the Mimbrates have always been addicted to epic poetry and its overblown conventions. What they proposed was nothing less than a grand tournament involving nobles from all four duchies, with the winner of that tournament – assuming that anyone survived a week or so of formalized mayhem – to be designated my champion.
What did I need with a champion?
They were all so terribly sincere, though. ‘Dear Lady,’ Enasian said, with actual tears standing in his eyes, ‘thou must have a knight-protector to shield thee from insult and affront. Rude scoundrels, perceiving thine unprotected state, might exceed the bounds of courteous behavior and offer thee incivilities. My brother dukes and I, of course, would leap to thy defense, but it seemeth to me – and Gonerian and Kanallan do heartily agree – that thou shouldst have an invincible knight at arms at thine immediate disposal to chastise knavery whensoever it doth rear its ugly head.’
He was so sincere that I hadn’t the heart to point out the obvious to him. I needed someone to protect and defend me almost as much as I needed a third foot. The more I thought about it, though, the more I came to realize that a ‘sporting event’ – particularly one involving formalized violence – could be a fairly good substitute for war, just in case someone hungered for the ‘good old days’.
Polgara the Sorceress Page 40