Polgara the Sorceress

by David Eddings

  ‘Ontrose,’ I told him, ‘you’re a treasure. You grasped in moments what’s eluded some of my vassals for six hundred years.’

  He shrugged. ‘It is no more than simple mathematics, your Grace,’ he replied. ‘An ounce apiece from the many doth far exceed a pound apiece from the few.’

  ‘Nicely put, Ontrose.’

  ‘I rather liked it,’ he agreed modestly.

  We talked of many things on our journey north, and I found my young – well, relatively young – champion to have a quick and agile mind. He also had an uncharacteristic urbanity that reminded me a great deal of my dear friend Kamion back on the Isle of the Winds.

  He was suitably impressed by my manor house, and he had the uncommon good sense to make friends with my Killane-descended retainers. Moreover, his enthusiasm for roses at least equaled my own. His conversation was a delight, his impromptu concerts on his lute – often accompanied by his rich baritone – brought tears to my eyes, and his ability to grasp – and question – obscure philosophical issues sometimes astounded me.

  I found myself beginning to have thoughts I probably shouldn’t have had. In my mind, Ontrose was becoming more than a friend. That’s when mother stepped in. ‘Polgara,’ her voice came to me one night, ‘this isn’t really appropriate, you know.’

  ‘What isn’t?’ My response wasn’t really very gracious.

  ‘This growing infatuation of yours. This isn’t the man for you. That part of your life is still a long way in the future.’

  ‘No, mother, it’s not. What you choose to call “that part of my life” will come whenever I decide it’s going to come, and there’s nothing that you or anybody else can do to change my mind. I’m tired of being pulled around on a string. It’s my life, and I’ll live it any way I choose.’

  ‘I’m trying to spare you a great deal of heartache, Pol.’

  ‘Don’t bother, mother. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.’

  ‘As you wish, Pol.’ And then the sense of her presence was gone.

  Well, of course it was rude. I realized that even as I was saying it. That particular confrontation crops up in just about everyone’s life. It usually comes a bit earlier, however.

  By morning, I was more than a little ashamed of myself, and as time went on I regretted my childish reaction more and more. Mother’s presence had always been the central fact of my life, and my little outburst had erected a wall between us that took years to tear down.

  I won’t demean what I felt for Ontrose by calling it an infatuation. I will admit that what was happening in my personal life distracted my attention from something I was supposed to be watching more closely, however. The second Garteon had been succeeded by yet a third in Asturia. Garteon III was an even bigger scoundrel than his father or grandfather had been, and most of his animosity seemed to be directed at Wacune. It was fairly obvious that there were close ties between Wacune and Erat, and the Oriman family had apparently concluded that my duchy could not survive without Wacite support. The Asturian animosity toward me personally wasn’t really too hard to understand, and it probably dated back to the time of Duke Nerasin. I had made examples of a fair number of Asturian dukes over the centuries, after all. What the Asturians chose to overlook was the fact that I’d also jerked a goodly number of Wacites and Mimbrates up short as well. The Asturians seemed to want to look upon me as an hereditary enemy who hovered in the shadows waiting for the chance to thwart all their schemes.

  What ultimately happened in northern Arendia came about largely because Duke Moratham of Mimbre was in his mid-eighties, and was quite obviously senile. His so-called ‘advisors’ were untroubled by scruples, and, since the doddering old Moratham automatically approved everything they put before him, they were the actual rulers of Mimbre. Garteon III of Asturia saw his chance, and, to put it crudely, he began buying up Mimbrate nobles by the score.

  I should have been paying more attention. A great deal of the suffering I’ve endured about what happened to Wacune derives in no small measure from the fact that it was at least partially my fault.

  The meeting of the Arendish Council in 2940 was placid, even tedious. Duke Moratham slept through most of it, and there wasn’t really anything exciting enough going on to wake him. I’d have probably suggested a regency, but Moratham’s only surviving son was quite obviously unfit to rule. He took his privileges very seriously, but gave little thought to his responsibilities.

  It was after Ontrose and I had returned to Vo Wacune that my father stopped by to see how I was doing.

  I was in my rose-garden when my maid escorted him out to see me. Knowing my father as I do, I’m fairly sure that he’d snooped about a few times in the two centuries or so since I’d last actually seen him, but he’d evidently not found anything to complain about, so he’d left me alone. ‘Well, Old Wolf,’ I greeted him, ‘what have you been up to?’

  ‘Not too much, Pol,’ he replied.

  ‘Is the world still all in one piece?’

  He shrugged. ‘More or less. I had to patch it a few times, but there haven’t been any major disasters.’

  I carefully cut one of my favorite roses and held it up for him to see. ‘Would you look at this?’ I said.

  He hardly even glanced at it. ‘Very nice,’ he said indifferently. Father doesn’t really have much of an eye for beauty.

  ‘Very nice? That’s all you can say? It’s absolutely gorgeous, father. Ontrose developed it just for me.’

  ‘Who’s Ontrose?’

  ‘He’s my champion, father. He rights wrongs for me, and he chastises anybody who insults me. You’d be amazed at how polite people are to me when he’s around.’ Then I decided to stop beating about the bush. ‘Oh, incidentally, he’s also the man I’m going to marry – just as soon as he gets up the nerve to ask me.’

  Father’s face grew wary at that point. He knew me well enough not to come down on the wrong side of me. ‘Interesting idea, Pol,’ he said blandly. ‘Why don’t you send him around so that he and I can get to know each other?’

  ‘You don’t approve,’ I accused.

  ‘I didn’t say that, Pol. I just said that I don’t know him. If you’re serious about this, he and I ought to have at least a nodding acquaintance with each other. Have you thought your way completely through this, though? There could be some fairly serious drawbacks, you know.’

  ‘Such as what?’

  ‘I’d imagine that there’s quite a difference in your ages, for one thing. How old would you say he is?’

  ‘He’s grown up, father. He’s over thirty.’

  ‘That’s nice, but you’re about nine hundred and fifty, aren’t you?’

  ‘Nine hundred and forty, actually. So what?’

  He sighed. ‘You’ll outlive him, Pol. He’ll be old before you’ve turned around twice.’

  ‘But I’ll be happy, father – or aren’t I supposed to have any happiness?’

  ‘I was just pointing it out, that’s all. Were you planning to have any children?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘That’s not really a very good idea, you know. Your children will grow up, get old, and die. You won’t. You’ll go through the same thing you went through when Beldaran died, and that very nearly killed you, as I recall.’

  ‘Maybe when I get married, my life will become normal. Maybe I’ll grow old, too.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it, Pol. The Mrin Codex has a lot to say about you and what you’ll be doing on down the road.’

  ‘I’m not going to base my life on the ravings of an idiot, father. Besides, you got married, didn’t you? If it was all right for you, it’s certainly all right for me.’ I deliberately glossed over mother’s peculiarities. ‘Besides, if Ontrose marries me, his life-span might be extended as well.’

  ‘Why should it? He’s ordinary, and you’re not. His life might seem longer, though. You’re not the easiest person in the world to get along with. Unless this Ontrose fellow’s a saint, he’s probably g
oing to have more than his share of bad days.’

  ‘Why don’t you just keep your nose out of my affairs, Old Man?’

  ‘Please, Pol. Don’t throw the word “affair” around like that. In this particular case it makes me very nervous.’

  ‘You know where the gate is, father. Use it – now.’

  And that more or less ended the conversation.

  Chapter 21

  The Privy Council of Duke Andrion of Wacune met in an airy room high in one of the towers of the palace one glowing afternoon. Our conference-room was carpeted and draped in a deep maroon, which contrasted nicely with the marble walls, and the massive furniture added that touch of permanence. ‘Our alternatives, it seemeth to me, do grow more scant with the passage of time,’ Duke Andrion said glumly to the rest of us. Duke Andrion was a dark-haired man in his mid-thirties, and he’d only recently ascended to the seat of power in Wacune. My presence at a Privy Council meeting in Vo Wacune might seem a bit odd, but I’d seen to it years ago that I was a member of all four Privy Councils in Arendia. I wanted to make sure that no Arendish duke did anything significant without my permission.

  ‘Truly, your Grace,’ Ontrose agreed with his duke. The Oriman family hath been bent on our destruction for years. I do fear me that war is inevitable.’

  ‘There are alternatives, my Lords,’ I told them quite firmly. ‘Nerasin was at least as great a scoundrel as this endless succession of Garteons, and we managed to bring him to his senses.’

  ‘The Oriman family hath no more sense than honor, Lady Polgara,’ Baron Lathan asserted. Lathan appeared to have recovered from his defeat at the hands of Ontrose during the tournament, and they were friends again. ‘It seemeth to me that Asturia must once again be subdued if the peace is to be kept.’

  ‘Let’s avoid that if possible, my Lord Lathan,’ I suggested. ‘Let me go talk with Garteon before we start mobilizing armies. Wars are very hard on the budget.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Andrion agreed fervently.

  Then I looked quickly at Ontrose. ‘No,’ I said firmly.

  ‘I fail to grasp thy meaning, your Grace,’ he confessed.

  ‘You can’t go along, Ontrose. I’m going to say some things to Garteon in language I’d rather you didn’t hear.’

  ‘I cannot permit thee to go unescorted, my Lady.’

  ‘Permit?’ I asked him ominously.

  ‘Poor choice of words there, perhaps,’ he admitted.

  ‘Very poor, Ontrose. You’re a poet, so you shouldn’t stumble over language that way.’ I laid a fond hand on his. ‘I’m only teasing, Ontrose.’ Then I looked at Duke Andrion. ‘Let me talk with Garteon before you start mobilizing, your Grace. His grandfather came around after I spoke with him. Perhaps that tiny bit of good sense runs in the family.’

  Baron Lathan looked as if he were about to protest.

  ‘We can always mobilize the army if I fail, Baron,’ I told him. ‘When we get right down to the bottom of it, the Oriman family’s animosity is directed at me, not Wacune. I’ve been disrupting Asturian scheming for a long time, and I intend to continue. Wacune and Erat are like brother and sister, so Garteon knows that if he attacks Wacune, I’ll attack him. Luring me into war is probably his main goal. Since this is really a squabble between Garteon and me, it’s best if he and I settle it with a private little chat.’

  ‘We shall be guided by thee, your Grace,’ Andrion said.

  ‘Excellent decision, your Grace,’ I complimented him.

  I went to Asturia in the usual way and snooped around Vo Astur for almost a week, but I couldn’t find so much as a trace of Garteon. I loitered unobserved in the grey hallways, hoping to catch some hints about his location, but the Asturian nobility seemed totally uninformed as to his whereabouts. I flew on to look around at the estates of the members of the Oriman family, but he wasn’t at any of them. I even went so far as to snoop around in several outlaw encampments back in the forest. Still no Garteon. Quite clearly, the Duke of Asturia had gone down a hole somewhere. Surely there was someone in Asturia who knew where he was, but whoever that someone was, he wasn’t talking about it. Since Arends are constitutionally incapable of keeping a secret for more than a few hours I began to catch a strong odor of Grolim in the whole business.

  I wasn’t in a very good humor when I finally threw up my hands in defeat and flew back to Vo Wacune to report my failure to my friends in the palace. After some discussion, I glumly agreed that mobilization for war was the only course of action open to us at this point. ‘I’ll keep trying, though, gentlemen,’ I assured the little gathering. ‘Sooner or later, Garteon’s going to have to come out of hiding. He’s made me a bit peevish, and I’d like to talk with him about that – at length.’

  Then Ontrose escorted me back to my town house, and we had a quiet supper. About the only good thing about my failure in Vo Astur was the fact that it persuaded my handsome champion that I was not omnipotent.

  After supper, we adjourned to my rose-garden. I needed the peace of that lovely spot to calm my nerves.

  ‘I do sense thy discontent, my Lady,’ Ontrose sympathized.

  ‘It’s a bit more than discontent, dear friend,’ I said wryly. ‘Evidently, I’ve had too many years of easy successes, and failure upsets my opinion of myself.’

  He smiled faintly, but then he sighed. ‘On the morrow I fear me that, with thy permission, I must go north into thy domain. If Wacune doth mobilize, then Erat must needs follow. Given two armies, I have a few fears as to the outcome of the current unpleasantness.’

  I nodded. ‘I’ll draw up a warrant for you to take to Malon Killaneson, my seneschal up in Erat. He’ll open my treasury for you. Please treat my people kindly, dear Ontrose. Feed them well and train them to defend themselves.’

  ‘Thou art ever the mother, dear Lady.’

  I shrugged. ‘It seems that way,’ I agreed. ‘It must have something to do with my own mother’s side of the family – but we don’t really need to go into that.’

  Then I saw something familiar in the night sky. ‘You’re late,’ I said.

  ‘I?’ Ontrose said in puzzlement.

  ‘No, Ontrose, not you. I was talking to my old friend up there.’ I pointed out the smeary light of the comet pasted against the stars on the velvet throat of night. ‘He usually appears in the late winter, but it’s almost summer now.’

  “Thou hast seen this marvel before?’ he asked.

  ‘Many times, Ontrose, many times.’ I made a quick mental computation. ‘Thirteen times actually. I was fourteen the first time I saw him. He comes by for a visit every seventy-one years.’

  Ontrose also made some calculations, and his eyes went very wide.

  ‘Don’t let it upset you, dear Ontrose,’ I told him. ‘People in my family tend to live for a long time, that’s all. It’s just a trait – like dark hair or a long nose.’

  ‘It seemeth to me that the casual dismissal of nine centuries of life as a mere family peculiarity doth stretch the boundaries of the meaning of that term, Lady Polgara.’

  ‘The secret to longevity lies in keeping busy, Ontrose – and avoiding fights with people who’re bigger than you are, of course.’ I thought back. ‘I think my fourteenth summer came in one of those years I spent in my Tree,’ I reminisced. ‘My sister and I were having an argument about my father, and I was feeling sulky. I lived in my Tree for a couple of years to punish her.’ I laughed. ‘Children can be so ridiculous at times.’

  ‘Thou hast a sister? I had not heard of that.’

  ‘She died – many, many years ago. Her name was Beldaran, and we were twins. She was much prettier than I am.’

  ‘Say not so, my dear Lady,’ he protested. ‘Thou art the paramount beauty in all this world, and I shall prove the fact upon the body of any foolish enough to gainsay my words.’

  ‘Flatterer,’ I said, touching his cheek fondly.

  ‘To speak the truth is not flattery, my Lady.’

  ‘To exaggerate is, though. I certainly was
n’t all that pretty the first time my friend up there paid me a visit. My sister was so beautiful that I just gave up and let myself go to seed, so to speak. I was awkward and gangly and not really very clean – unless a passing rain-storm had just washed off most of the dirt. After my sister’s betrothal, I cleaned myself up. We were sixteen then, so after I scrubbed off the dirt and combed my hair, I was moderately presentable. My sister was betrothed to Riva Iron-grip, King of the Isle of the Winds, and after we sailed to his realm, I entertained myself by breaking hearts for a while.’

  ‘I must admit that I do not follow thee, dear Lady,’ he confessed.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ I laughed. ‘You are an innocent, aren’t you, Ontrose? That’s what young girls do, didn’t you know that? We wear our prettiest dresses and ribbons, put on our most winsome expressions, and then go forth to do war. Our enemies are all the other pretty girls in the vicinity, and our battleground is the collective hearts of all the young men within reach.’ I gave him an arch look. ‘Be very careful around me, dear boy,’ I warned him. ‘I could break your heart with a single flutter of my eyelashes.’

  ‘Why wouldst thou wish to shatter that which is already wholly thine, dear Lady?’ he asked, and I sensed a certain subterfuge in his carefully phrased question. Ontrose was obviously not quite as innocent as he seemed to be. This was moving along even better than I’d hoped. Ontrose obviously no longer looked at me as an institution. We were definitely making progress now.

  ‘Be warned, my champion,’ I bantered. ‘Methinks I shall unlimber mine entire arsenal upon thine unprotected heart. Defend thyself as best thou canst.’

  I think my lapse into formality startled him just a bit. ‘Thou wouldst take so unfair an advantage of me, Lady Polgara?’ he chided lightly. ‘Fie! For shame! Must I now defend thy realm ‘gainst the Asturians and mine own heart ‘gainst thine unspeakable charm simultaneous? I have no fears concerning the Asturians. Mine heart’s fortress, however, doth already crumble before thine onslaughts, and I do fear me that I must inevitably capitulate and submit to this gentle enslavement which thou dost propose.’