Polgara the Sorceress

by David Eddings

  ‘But – ’ he started to protest.

  ‘You heard her, Chamdar!’ Salmissra snapped. ‘Get out of my sight. And you’d better hurry. Your diplomatic immunity expires in about a half an hour, and after that, there’ll be a sizeable price on your head. Now get out!’

  Chamdar fled.

  ‘Nice touch, there,’ I complimented Salmissra.

  ‘Can I really do that, Pol?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s your kingdom, dear,’ I assured her. ‘You can do anything you want to do.’

  ‘Is it possible for you and me to be friends?’ she asked.

  ‘I think we already are,’ I said, smiling.

  “Then would you please get that awful snake out of my mirror?’

  I spent several months in Sthiss Tor gradually leeching the assorted narcotics out of Salmissra’s blood until she reached the point of being able to think coherently. She was no mental giant, but once she came out of that drug-induced fog, she began to function rationally. The eunuchs who actually ran the government were more than a little upset by my intervention, so one evening after Salmissra had drifted off to sleep, I sent for Rissus, who probably wielded more power than most of his cohorts – enough at any rate that he had to take the usual precautions to keep them from poisoning him. He seemed a bit apprehensive when he entered the garish sitting-room of the Serpent Queen’s private apartment. ‘You wanted to see me, Lady Polgara?’ he said in his eunuch’s contralto.

  ‘Yes, Rissus,’ I said. ‘I thought that you and I ought to have a little chat.’

  ‘Of course, Lady Polgara.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve noticed the change that’s come over your queen.’

  ‘How could I miss it? You’ve got her completely under your control. How did you manage to pull that off so quickly?’

  ‘I offered her friendship, Rissus. She’s a very lonely person, you know.’

  ‘How could she possibly be lonely? She’s got a whole stable of pretty boys to entertain her.’

  ‘Salmissra needs friendship, Rissus, and there’s none of that involved in her frolics with her pretty boys. She’s not brilliant by any stretch of the imagination, but she’s clever enough to rule here if you and Salas and some of the others advise her. Are you feeling up to statesmanship, Rissus? Could you set aside your petty scheming and the incidental poisonings of your rivals and concentrate on actually making the government work?’

  ‘What an unnatural thing to suggest,’ he murmured.

  ‘Shocking, isn’t it?’ I agreed. ‘Here’s the way we’ll do it. I’ve had a fair amount of experience in positions of power at times, and I’m going to start reminiscing – telling Salmissra stories about how I managed this or that crisis, the tedious business of coddling powerful nobles, arranging the tax-code so that it didn’t generate an immediate rebellion, and all the other tricks of running a government. The whole idea will be to get Salmissra interested in the field of politics. Then, when she starts asking questions, I’ll pretend to be unfamiliar with Nyissan customs and suggest that she send for you. The whole idea is to rather gently educate her to the point that she’s an adequate ruler. From there, we’ll move on to letting her make decisions.’

  He gave me a shrewd look. ‘Where’s the catch, Lady Polgara?’ he asked. ‘What’s in this for you?’

  ‘I want stability here in Nyissa, Rissus. There are things afoot that you aren’t aware of, and they’re going to be fairly titanic. I don’t want Ctuchik dictating Nyissan policy.’

  ‘You won’t get any arguments from me there, Polgara.’

  ‘Good. Now, then, I’ve weaned her off some of the more incapacitating narcotics, but let’s reduce her intake of the others as well. I know there are certain compounds she has to take regularly to keep her from visibly aging, but let’s cut her dosage to an absolute minimum. Who’s her apothecary?’

  ‘Speaking,’ he said with a faint smile.

  ‘Really? It’s very unusual for a pharmacologist to be in a position of power in government.’

  ‘Not in Nyissa it isn’t, Polgara. Here in Sthiss Tor, the key to the queen’s drug cabinet is the key to power. It may sound immodest, but I’m the most skilled pharmacologist in all of Nyissa. In a land of addicts, the apothecary rules, but it’s all sort of under the table. It might be nice to be official.’

  ‘Shall we take our Salmissra in hand and make a real queen of her then, Rissus?’

  ‘That might be nice. A real queen would be sort of a novelty. We could achieve that stability you want – set up strict procedures for poisoning opponents, limitations on the use of professional assassins, and all that.’ He leaned back reflectively. ‘Things have been chaotic here in Nyissa for the last century or so,’ he noted. ‘Maybe it’s time for us to set up some rules, and around here, nobody’s going to pay attention to rules unless they’re handed down from the throne. Yes, I’ll agree to your proposal. Let’s go ahead and make a real queen out of Salmissra.’

  And so we did that. From earliest childhood, Salmissra had never had a real friend. At the first sign of her affection for any of those around her, the sound of the tops coming off all the poison bottles rattled the windows. She was desperately lonely and more than a little afraid. I assured her that nobody in his right mind would try to poison me, and she opened her heart to me with an almost child-like trust. Actually, it was rather touching. I discovered a simple uncomplicated little girl under all the trappings of her royalty, and I became genuinely fond of her.

  That’s happened to me on occasion. The most impossible friendship I’ve developed is the one I have for Zakath. That one should have stopped the sun. My affection for Salmissra didn’t even come close to that one.

  I had a professional interest in Nyissan pharmacology, so between us, Salmissra and I ran poor Rissus ragged. When he wasn’t giving her lessons in practical politics – Nyissan style – he was introducing me to the exotic world of Nyissan herbs. Oddly, there were even some roots, berries, leaves, and twigs in the jungles of Nyissa that were actually beneficial – under tightly controlled circumstances, of course.

  After I’d been in Nyissa for a half-year or so, the twins advised me that father had stopped by Emgaard and that he wanted to see me. Salmissra wept when I told her that I was going to have to leave soon, but I’d carefully insinuated Rissus and Salas into her affection, so I was sure that they could fill in the gap in their queen’s life. To insure that they’d never betray her child-like trust, I told them that if they did, I’d come back to Nyissa and feed them to the leeches that infested the River of the Serpent. You wouldn’t believe how fervently they promised to be good after that little exchange.

  Then I went to the throne-room and said goodbye to the Serpent Queen. She wept and clung to me, but I gently untangled her arms from about my neck, kissed her cheek, and handed her over to Rissus and Salas. Then I left.

  It was early in the winter when I reached the Vale, and the snow was piled deeply around father’s tower. I swooped in, resumed my own form, and braced myself.

  ‘Well, Pol,’ he said as I came up the stairs. ‘I was sort of wondering if you’d decided to stay the winter in Nyissa.’

  That’s the rainy season down there, father,’ I reminded him. ‘Sthiss Tor’s bad enough already without adding a steady downpour. You wanted to see me?’

  ‘I always want to see you, Pol. I yearn for your company all the time.’

  ‘Please,’ I said, ‘spare me. What’s bothering you now?’

  ‘Did it occur to you to let me know what you were doing?’

  ‘Not really, no. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, father.’

  ‘I sort of like to stay abreast of things, Pol.’

  There wouldn’t be any problem if that’s all you did, father, but you’re nosey.’

  ‘Pol!’ he protested.

  ‘But you are, father, and you know it. Oh, I met Chamdar down there. I don’t think he enjoyed our meeting very much, but I certainly did.’

  ‘Was he breathing
the last time you saw him?’

  ‘I think he was breathing fire, father. I spiked his scheme by exposing him to Salmissra, and she put a price on his head.’

  ‘Slick,’ he complimented me.

  ‘I rather liked it. Have you got anything to eat around here? I’m positively famished.’

  There’s something in that pot over there. I forget exactly what it is.’

  I went to his fireplace and lifted the lid. ‘Was it pea-soup, perhaps?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Maybe we’d better throw it out, then.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s green, father. I think you might have let it age a little-too long. Go down to the pantry and bring up a ham. I’ll fix us something to eat and tell you all about what Salmissra and I did to poor old Chammy.’

  Father laughed uproariously when I gave him a slightly embellished account of my adventure in the land of the Snake People.

  ‘You did very well, Pol,’ he approved when I’d finished. ‘Were you really that fond of Salmissra, though?’

  ‘She wasn’t at all like most of the others, father,’ I told him a bit sadly. ‘I believe she was quite a bit like the one who had Gorek assassinated. I think I felt much the same about this one as you did about the other one. She’s very vulnerable, and once I showed her that I was her friend, she was very affectionate. She even cried when I left.’

  ‘I didn’t think anybody named Salmissra even knew how to cry.’

  ‘You’re wrong, father. They all do. They’ve learned not to let it show is all. Oh, I saw movement on the south caravan route on my way here.’

  ‘Yes. The Murgos have reopened trade with Tolnedra. That’s a polite way of saying that we’re going to go back to seeing spies every time we turn around again. You’d better go on to Cherek and let the twins come back home and start digging into the Mrin again. If anybody’s going to make sense out of it, it’ll be them.’

  ‘First thing in the morning, father,’ I told him. ‘Oh, that whatever-it-was you had growing in your cooking pot is in that bucket by the head of the stairs. I’d take it out and bury it, if I were you. I think it’s getting very close to coming alive, and I don’t believe you’d want it crawling into bed with you.’

  And so I went on back to Emgaard to take up my task again, and the twins went back to the Vale to take up theirs. My sojourn in Nyissa had been something of the order of a vacation, but every vacation comes to an end eventually, and it was good to get back to work again.

  Then, in 5300, the twins made another breakthrough, and they confidently announced that this was the century of the Godslayer. I spoke at some length with Geran, who was by now quite elderly, and with his son, Darion, a stone-cutter. Geran, as I said, was quite old, and he was just a little vague. I don’t think he really understood when I told him that we were going to have to move to Sendaria.

  ‘I think it’d be kinder if we left him here, Aunt Pol,’ Darion told me. ‘He won’t leave mother’s grave anyway, and I don’t think he’d understand why it’s necessary. Why don’t we just say that we’re going on a trip and let it go at that? After a month or so, he probably won’t even remember us. I’ll get someone to stay with him here, and he’ll be all right.’

  I didn’t like it, but Darion was probably right. Geran was doddering on the edge of senility right now, and I knew of no quicker way to kill him than to uproot him at his age.

  Darion, his wife Esena, and their ten-year-old son, Darral, went with me to Val Alorn, and we took ship for Darine and traveled on down to Medalia, where I bought us a house and set Darion up in business as a stone-cutter. The products that came out of his shop were tombstones, for the most part, and that’s a gloomy sort of business. Darral learned his father’s trade, and when he was sixteen or so, he married Alara, the daughter of a local dry goods merchant.

  Father pestered us almost continually until, in 5329, Alara finally gave birth to a baby boy. Father’s face fell the first time he looked at the baby, Geran. ‘He’s not the one, Pol,’ he reported.

  ‘That’s not my fault, father,’ I told him. ‘Oh, by the way, in just a few years, I’m going to be moving Darral and his family.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Medalia’s right on the main road between Darine and Muros, and there are just a few too many strangers passing through town for my comfort. I want a place that’s just a little more remote.’

  ‘Oh? Where have you decided to settle?’

  ‘It’s a little village up in the mountains.’

  ‘What’s the name of the place?’

  ‘Annath, father. It’s right next to the Algarian border, and there’s a big stone-quarry there, so Darral should be able to find work that doesn’t involve tombstones.’

  Chapter 37

  Did you perhaps notice that my explanation of the decision to move my little family to Annath was slightly less than candid? I thought you might have noticed that. I’ve found over the years that it’s not really a good idea to give my father too much information. Father has an overpowering urge to dabble in things, and his dabbling frequently ends up being disastrous. I suspect that my father thinks of himself as an artist, but his definition of art and mine are worlds apart.

  Actually, I’d never even seen Annath, and my decision to move there was based entirely on its proximity to the Algarian border. Mother had told me that Geran was destined to marry an Algarian girl named Ildera, and I thought it might be a good idea if the two of them were to grow up in the same general vicinity.

  As it turned out, though, our move was delayed by old Darion’s final illness, which was unfortunately quite protracted. I dislike lingering illnesses even more than I hate those sudden heart stoppages. A decent illness would run its course in a week or ten days, and the patient would then recover or die. Death has little dignity if it’s either too quick or too slow. Anyway, Darion hung on until 5334, and after his funeral, a change of scene was definitely in order. Everything in Medalia reminded us of our loss.

  Darral sold his stoneworks and our house, and we packed up such possessions as we wanted to keep in a pair of wagons and left Medalia early on a summer morning with Darrel driving one wagon and me driving the other.

  Yes, as a matter of fact, I do know how to drive a team of horses. Why do you keep asking these silly questions? We’ll never reach the end of this if you keep interrupting me like that.

  It was summer, as I recall, and summer’s a nice time to travel in the mountains. There was no real hurry, so we took our time. At one point, Darral reined in his team, looking speculatively at a mountain stream that was gurgling over smooth round stones and joyously plunging into deep quiet pools. ‘What do you think, Aunt Pol?’ he called back to me. ‘This might be a good place to camp for the night, and we really ought to rest the horses.’

  ‘It’s only noon, Darral,’ Alara pointed out.

  ‘Well, this is a good place, and we have pushed the horses pretty hard. It’s all been uphill, you know.’ He sounded sincerely concerned about the horses, and he seemed to be making a special point of not looking at the stream. I knew the signs, of course. I’d seen them often enough back in Emgaard. I looped the reins of my team around the brake handle of my wagon and climbed down. ‘Over there,’ I said, pointing at a mossy little area under some low-hanging cedar trees. ‘Before you get started, unhitch the horses, water them, and stake them out in that meadow. Then build a fire-pit and gather enough firewood for supper and for breakfast.’

  ‘I sort of thought – ’

  ‘I’m sure you did, dear. Get the work done first, and then you can go play.’

  He gave me a sort of sheepish look and then absolutely flew into his chores.

  ‘What did you mean by that, Aunt Pol?’ Alara asked me. ‘Darral’s a grown man now. He doesn’t play any more.’

  ‘Oh, really? You have a lot to learn, Alara. Take a look at your husband’s face. He hasn’t worn that expression since he was about nine years old.’

/>   ‘What’s he going to do?’

  ‘He’s going to offer to provide supper, dear.’

  ‘We’ve got dried beef and flour and peas and all in the back of your wagon.’

  ‘Yes, I know. He’ll say that he’s tired of the same old thing every night, though.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘He wants to go fishing, Alara. That little steam’s seducing him for all it’s worth, and he’s not resisting very hard.’

  ‘He can’t catch enough fish to feed us all in one afternoon.’

  ‘Well, he might, and there’s always tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Her face grew indignant. ‘That’s absurd! We’ll never get to Annath if he stops every time we come to some little brook.’

  ‘You’d probably better get used to it, Alara. I think it runs in the family. Tomorrow morning, one of the horses will be lame, or a wagon wheel will have to be greased – and of course it’ll be too late to start out by the time he’s finished.’

  ‘How long will this last?’

  ‘That probably depends entirely on how the fish are biting. I’d give it about three days – unless Old Twister has some relatives here in these mountains.’

  ‘Who’s Old Twister?’

  So, while Darral was furiously chopping firewood, I told her about Gelane’s years-long campaign to catch that wily old trout in the stream outside Emgaard. It passed the time, and it put Alara in a much better humor. Alara was a serious young lady, and laughing was good for her. Darral finished with his firewood, cut himself and his son some willow saplings to use for poles and went off to entertain the fish. ‘Oh, one thing, dear,’ I said to Alara. ‘Don’t, whatever you do, reach for a knife if they happen to bring home some fish.’

  ‘Why would I reach for a knife, Aunt Pol?’

  ‘Exactly. That’s the fundamental rule you’ve always got to keep out in plain sight. You’ve got to establish it right from the start.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’