Polgara the Sorceress (48 page)

‘I’ll get there as quickly as I can, Pol,’
he promised.

That made me feel quite a bit better, and I closed my window as the storm broke over Vo Wacune.

There’s no question that our situation was grave. Our armies were on the march, but there was no way they could reach Vo Wacune in time to stave off the Asturian assault on the city, and by the time our forces
did
arrive, the Mimbrates would already be here to reinforce Garteon’s army. As is so often the case, everything hinged on time.

I spent the remainder of that blustery night in my library considering the situation. The Arendish mind was locked in stone on certain issues. The soul of any domain lies in its capital. Mimbre would not exist without that golden fortress on the River Arend; Asturia would be meaningless without Vo Astur; and the Wacite duchy derived almost entirely from the delicate, soaring towers of Vo Wacune. It was that peculiarity which had persuaded me
not
to establish a capital city in my own duchy. My domain
had
no center. The destruction of the city of Erat would have angered me, but it would not have devastated me. I realized clearly that if Vo Wacune were to fall, Wacune would no longer exist. Within a few generations, it would only be a fading memory. Saving the city was an absolute imperative.

The summer storm which had descended upon us, unlike most storms of that season, did not blow off with the dawn, but continued to blow and rain and make life generally miserable.

This was that fatal tenth day, however, so I pulled on my cloak and went to the palace to see how things were progressing. I found Andrion and Ontrose deep in discussion. ‘Father’s on his way, gentlemen,’ I advised them. ‘This weather’s probably going to slow him down, though.’

‘It will also, it seemeth to me, delay the march of our own forces from thy duchy,’ Andrion added.

Then, as matters now stand, must we defend our city with such force as is available to us here,’ Ontrose concluded. ‘The task, methinks, will be formidable, but not impossible.’ They were worried enough already, so I
decided to keep the information about the Mimbrates to myself for the time being.

The wind and rain continued for the next two days, and that somewhat slowed Garteon’s advance on Vo Wacune. At least he wasn’t right outside our walls at daybreak when the bad weather finally passed on through and the sun came out again. Father reached the city about noon, and he found Ontrose and me arguing in my still-damp rose-garden. My beloved mail-shirted champion was doing his level best to persuade me to leave Vo Wacune before it was too late. ‘It must be, Polgara,’ he urged me. “Thou must go from Vo Wacune to a place of safety. The Asturians are almost at the city gates.’ In spite of everything I’d told him about my planned reception of Garteon’s forces, he was
still
worried about my safety.

‘Oh, Ontrose,’ I said to him, ‘stop that. You know perfectly well that I can take care of myself. I’m not in any personal danger.’

That was when father, who’d gone falcon, settled into my favorite cherry tree, changed back into his own form, and climbed on down. ‘He’s right, Pol,’ he told me bleakly. “There’s nothing you can do here.’

‘Where have you been?’ I demanded.

‘Fighting with the weather. You’d better get your things together. We’ve got to get you out of here immediately.’

I couldn’t believe my ears! ‘Have you lost your mind? I’m not going anyplace. Now that you’re here, we can drive off the Asturians.’

‘No, as a matter of fact, we can’t. This is one of the things that
has
to happen, and you and I aren’t permitted to interfere in any way. I’m sorry, Pol, but the Mrin’s very specific about that. If we tamper with this, it’ll change the whole course of the future.’

‘Ctuchik’s probably behind this,’ I said groping for some new argument to win him over. ‘You’re not going to let him win, are you?’

‘He’s not going to win, Pol. His seeming success here will come back and defeat – and destroy – him later. Certain Arends are going to be involved in his destruction, and I’m not going to do anything to disrupt that, and neither are
you. The “Archer” and the “Knight Protector” are going to grow out of what happens here, so we absolutely can’t interfere.’

“The fall of Vo Wacune is certain, then, Ancient One?’ Ontrose asked him.

‘I’m afraid so, Ontrose. Has Polgara told you about the prophecies?’

‘In some measure, Holy Belgarath,’ Ontrose replied. ‘I cannot pretend to understand all of what she told me, though.’

‘To put it very briefly, there’s a war going on that’s been in progress since the very beginning of time,’ father explained. ‘Whether we like it or not, we’re all involved in that war. Vo Wacune must be sacrificed if we’re to win. You’re a soldier, so you understand things like that.’

Ontrose sighed and then nodded gravely. How could I possibly fight the both of them?

‘You might want to talk with Duke Andrion,’ father continued. ‘If you hurry, you may be able to get the women and children to safety, but Vo Wacune itself won’t be here in a few days. I saw the Asturians as I was coming in. They’re throwing everything they’ve got at you.’

‘They will be much diminished when they return to Vo Astur,’ my beloved champion assured him bleakly.

‘If it’s any comfort to you, Vo Astur’s going to suffer the same fate some years from now.’

‘I shall hold that thought, Ancient One.’

How
could
they so casually accept a defeat which hadn’t occurred yet? ‘What are you two thinking of?’ I demanded in a shrill voice. ‘Are you both going to just lie down and play dead for Garteon? We
can
win! And if you won’t help, father, I’ll do it myself!’

‘I can’t let you do that, Pol,’ he said.

‘You can’t
stop
me. You’ll have to kill me, and what’U
that
do to your precious Mrin Codex?’ I turned to my beloved with my heart shriveling within me. “Thou art my champion, Ontrose, and more – much much more. Wilt thou defy me? Wilt thou send me packing like some thieving chambermaid? My place is at thy side.’

‘Be reasonable, Pol,’ father said. ‘You know that I can
force you to go if I have to. Don’t make me do that.’

Then I became irrational. ‘I
hate
you, father!’ I screamed at him. ‘Get out of my life!’ Tears were streaming down my face. ‘I’ll tell the both of you right now that I
will
not go!’

‘Thou art in error, dearest Polgara,’ Ontrose told me in unyielding tones. ‘Thou wilt accompany thy father and go from this place.’

‘No! I won’t leave you!’ My heart was breaking. I could not defy him. I loved him top much to do that.

‘His Grace, Duke Andrion, hath placed me in command of the defense of the city, Lady Polgara,’ he said, falling back on a stern formality. ‘It is my responsibility to deploy our forces. There is no place in that deployment for thee. I therefore instruct thee to depart. Go.’

‘No!’ I almost screamed it. He was killing me!

“Thou art the Duchess of Erat, dear Lady Polgara, but long ere that, thou wert of the Wacite nobility, and thou hast sworn an oath of fealty unto the house of Duke Andrion. I will hold thee to that oath. Do not dishonor thy station by this stubborn refusal. Make ready, my beloved Polgara. Thou shalt depart within the hour.’

His words struck me almost like a blow. ‘That was unkindly said, my Lord Ontrose,’ I said stiffly. He’d thrown duty right in my face.

‘The truth oft times
is
unkind, my Lady. We both have responsibilities. I will not fail mine. Do not thee fail thine. Now go!’

My eyes filled with tears, and I clung to him for a moment. ‘I love you, Ontrose,’ I told him.

‘And I love thee as well, my dearest one,’ he murmured. ‘Think of me in times yet to come.’

‘Forever, Ontrose.’ Then I kissed him fiercely and fled back into my house to make ready for my departure.

And so my father and I left Vo Wacune, and I surely left my heart behind as I went.

Even to this day I don’t think my father fully understands exactly what Ontrose was telling me during that last conversation. When my beloved had spoken of duty, his use of that term had been all-inclusive. As a member of the court at Vo Wacune, I was duty-bound to obey the commands of Duke Andrion, but my paramount duty was to my own duchy, and that crushing responsibility overrode everything else. Garteon of Asturia had destroyed Wacune. His next logical step would be to invade and attempt to destroy Erat as well. I’d failed to save Wacune, but I swore that I wouldn’t fail to save Erat. Even though it cost me my life, I
would
obey that last command of the man I loved. It was my duty, and duty was all I had left.

I didn’t bother to explain this to father. As a matter of fact, I didn’t speak to him at all as the two of us rode on up out of the forests of Wacune toward the more open lands of Sendaria. Trying to explain would have been a waste of time, since as closely as I’ve been able to determine, father’s never actually ruled even so much as a small barony, so he hasn’t the faintest idea of what’s involved in wearing a crown. He assumed that my sullen-seeming silence was nothing more than sulking, but in actuality it was the result of my preoccupation with the defense of my southern border against the inevitable Asturian invasion. Of one thing I was absolutely certain. My first step in defending my duchy would be to get this meddlesome old man out of my hair.

When we reached Muros, the city was in chaos. The merchants were desperately trying to find somebody – anybody – willing to buy up their assets at any price, the Algars had driven their herds back across the mountains to safety, and the general population was on the verge of flight. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the Asturians would be at the
city gates very soon. The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that Muros would be the key to the defense of my southern frontier. The city was technically a part of the Wacite duchy, but the collapse of Wacune had left it hanging on a branch all by itself, a prize for the first passerby willing to take the trouble to pick it. Even as father and I rode out of town, I decided that I was going to annex Muros and the surrounding territory all the way down to the banks of the River Camaar. That river bank would obviously be a more defensible boundary than some imaginary line running down the middle of a wandering country lane.

First, however, I had to get clear of my father so that I could get to work. The important thing was to avoid going all the way back to the Vale with him. Once we arrived there, I’d never be able to get out from under his thumb. I maintained my pretense of sullen, suffering silence as we rode on up into the summer-touched Sendarian mountains, and when we came down onto the rolling grassland of Algaria, I was ready.

It was about noon on a glorious mid-summer day when we reached the roofless remains of mother’s cottage, and that was when I reined in and dismounted. ‘This is as far as I’m going,’ I announced.

‘What?’

‘You heard me, father. I’m going to stay here.’ I said it flatly and with a note of finality. I didn’t want any misunderstanding.

‘You have work to do, Pol.’
This?
Coming from a man who avoided work as he’d avoid the plague?

‘That’s too bad, father,’ I told him.
‘You’ll
have to take care of it. Go back to your tower and snuggle up to your prophecies, but leave me out of it. We’re through, father. This is the end of it. Now go away and don’t bother me any more.’

That was wishful thinking, of course. I knew that father would give things a day or two to cool down before he came sneaking back to keep an eye on me, so I gave him about an hour to get out of earshot, and then I went falcon and flew back across the mountains to Erat, arriving at my manor house just at twilight. Then I went looking for my
Seneschal, Malon Killaneson. Malon was a lineal descendant of one of Killane’s younger brothers, and he closely resembled his many times over great uncle. He was efficient and practical, and his easy-going mannerisms made people want to cooperate with him in much the same way they had with Killane himself. I
did
rather approve of Malon’s decision not to grow that silly-looking fringe of a beard that had so marred Killane’s appearance, though.

I found him poring over a map in my library, and he started visibly when I entered. ‘Praise be!’ he exclaimed. ‘I thought y’d perished at Vo Wacune. How ever did y’ manage t’ escape, yer Grace?’

‘My father decided to rescue me, Malon,’ I told him. ‘What’s happening here?’

‘I fear all is lost, me Lady,’ he replied in despairing tones. ‘Everybody in yer domain knows fer sure that th’ Asturians kin march in an’ take th’ whole duchy any time they want to, so there’s hopelessness drippin’ off every tree an’ bush. When I thought y’d been lost at Vo Wacune, me heart went down into me boots, an’ I bin plannin’ t’ make me own escape across th’ mountains into Algaria.’

‘You’d desert me, Malon?’ I accused.

‘I thought y’ was dead, yer Grace, so there wasn’t nothin’ left here fer me.’

‘Is everything falling apart, then?’

‘Pretty much so, yer Grace. Yer army’s runnin’ around in circles, not knowin’ which way t’ turn. Th’ Asturians are comin’, an’ everybody w’ the slightest touch o’ good sense is lookin’ fer a place t’ hide, don’t y’ know.’

‘Well, Laddy-buck,’ I said in a fair imitation of his own Wacite brogue, ‘do yer despairin’ on yer own time. You an’ me, we got work t’ do, so hitch up yer britches an’ let’s get at it. The Asturians might have taken Wacune, but s’ long as I have breath, they’ll not be after takin’ Erat, don’t y’ know.’

‘Now yer after soundin’ like me very own dear mother, Lady Polgara,’ he said, laughing. ‘Is there any way at all we kin keep th’ murderin’ Asturians out o’ our front parlor?’

‘I think we can come up with something, Malon.’ I thought for a moment. ‘The core of our problem lies in the
close ties Erat has always had with Wacune. The two duchies have never really been separate, so we aren’t used to doing our own thinking.’ I made a rueful face. ‘It’s probably my fault I was concentrating about half of my attention on keeping the peace in all Arendia, so I’ve divided my time between this house and the one in Vo Wacune. I suppose I should have stayed closer to home to mind the store. More to the point, though, our army’s always been little more than an extension of the Wacite force, so my generals haven’t had much experience with independent thinking.’ I gave him a sidelong glance. ‘What say y’, Laddy-buck? Would y’ be after wantin’ t’ join me in educatin’ some soldiers in th’ fine art o’ thinkin’ fer themselves?’

‘When y’ talk like that, Lady-O, I’d be after wantin’ t’ join y’ in almost anythin’.’

‘Good. Go to General Halbren, the Chief of Staff. He’s a good, solid man we can count on. Tell him that I’m back and that
I’ll
be issuing the commands now. He’ll know what to do when he passes my orders on to his subordinates. They’ll need lots of details right at first, but after they realize that the commands are coming from
here
rather than Vo Wacune, we’ll be able to start loosening the reins a bit. The first order I want you to pass on to Halbren is that we’re going to move in and annex Muros, Camaar, and Darine – along with all the territory around our fringes. From now on, everything north of the River Camaar is mine.’

There might be some argument about that, yer Grace. Them Wacite Barons in th’ border areas be fearful independent, don’t y’ know.’

They’ll get over it, Malon. I’m bigger, older, and nastier than they are. I can’t afford to have territory just off my left shoulder-blade that I can’t control. For the time being, though, tell Halbren to concentrate on Muros. It’s a rich town, so Duke Garteon of Asturia’s certainly drooling in anticipation of the day when all that wealth gets transferred into his own treasury. I’m going to give him a very pointed lesson in good manners. Just as soon as he comes across the River Camaar, I’m going to trample on his face until it looks as if he’s just been run over by a plow.’

‘Whoo!’
Malon said in mock surprise. ‘Aren’t y’ th’ fierce one, Lady-O?’

‘I’m just getting started, Malon. If you want to see fierce, wait until I’ve built up some momentum. Now then, you and I have about a day and a half to get a week’s work done, so let’s get down to cases.’ I sat down beside him, and we both started laying out our defenses on his map.

By morning, we had our troop deployment roughed in. I knew General Halbren well enough to know that I could leave the refinements up to him, so we moved on from there. ‘I’m sure that at least
some
units of the Wacite army managed to escape the bonfire at Vo Wacune,’ I said. ‘Tell Halbren to give making contact with those people the highest priority.’

‘T’ swell our own ranks, me Lady?’ Malon suggested.

‘No. If we do things right, we won’t need more men. What we
do
need is information about Asturian troop movements. My generals have to know exactly where the Asturians are massing to come across the River Camaar so that we can be ready to meet them. The Wacites hiding out in the woods down there will be our eyes. Have General Halbren impress the idea on those survivors that passing information on to us is far more important than randomly murdering any Asturians they come across.’

‘Spyin’ ain’t considered t’ be th’ most honorable o’ professions, me lady,’ Malon reminded me.

‘We’ll
make
it honorable, Malon. Tell Halbren to wave the word “patriot” in front of the surviving Wacites. We have to make them understand the notion that it’s a Wacite’s patriotic duty
not
to get killed with even the tiniest bit of useful information still locked up in his mind.’

‘That’s always assumin’ that there be any Wacites left down there,’ Malon said. ‘There’s bin a steady stream o’ people comin’ across the River Camaar, don’t y’ know.’

‘We’ll have to make arrangements for them, I think. After we take Muros, we’ll set up camps for them and provide food.’

‘Tis a kindly, charitable person y’ are, me Lady.’

‘Kindness has nothing to do with it, Malon. I want the
Wacites who choose to remain down there to know that their wives and children are safe and well cared for up here. That should encourage them to spy for us just as hard as they possibly can. Now, then, let’s have a look at the defenses of our coasts.’

By evening, we’d sketched out the preparations for the inevitable war lurking just over the horizon, and then I turned to something that definitely needed attention. ‘Now then, Malon, you and I are going to have to be able to communicate, and we won’t have time to wait around for messengers on horseback to run back and forth between here and where I’m currently living.’

‘An’ where might that be, yer Grace?’

‘My father and I aren’t speaking right now. He was taking me back to his tower in the Vale of Aldur, but I took up residence in my mother’s old house at the northern end of the Vale instead. He’s the nosey type, so I’m sure he’ll try to keep an eye on me. I don’t want to give him any excuses to come here to start snooping around, so I’ll have to stay fairly close to mother’s cottage. You’re going to have to pass my orders on to General Halbren.’ I gave him a direct look. ‘You know who I am, don’t you, Malon?’

‘Of course, yer Grace. Yer th’ Duchess o’ Erat.’

‘Let’s go back beyond that. Who was I before I became the Duchess?’

‘I’m told y’ was Polgara th’ Sorceress.’

‘I still am, Malon. It’s not something you can get rid of. I can do things that other people can’t. You know that little room at the top of the northwest tower?’

‘Y’ mean th’ little place where th’ upstairs maids bin keepin’ their brooms an’ mops?’

‘Is
that
what they’re doing with it now? That wasn’t what your great uncle and I had in mind for it when we built the house. Anyway, I’ve cast a spell on that room. Killane and I used to use it when we needed to talk with each other when I was away. He’d go up there when he needed to tell me something, and I could hear him when he said something to me – no matter where I really was.’

‘What a marvel!’

‘It’s fairly commonplace in my family. Why don’t you
go up there right now? Let’s find out if it still works.’

‘If that’s what y’ll after be wantin’, yer Grace.’ He rose to his feet and left, his expression dubious.

Notice that I’d hurried through the explanation and decorated it with a few out and out lies. There wasn’t anything special about that room, but I wanted Malon to
believe
that there was.

I think my father explained to Garion one time that what we call “talent” in our family is latent in all humans, and as long as someone has reason to
believe
that something’s going to happen, it probably will. If Malon was convinced that the broom closet at the top of the tower was a magic place, my plan would work.

I gave him several minutes to get up there, and then I sent my thought out to him.
‘Malon Killaneson, can you hear me?’

‘As clear as if y’ were standin’ right beside me, yer Grace,’
he exclaimed, his voice distorted.

‘Don’t talk, Malon. Put what you want to say in your thoughts instead. Form the words in your mind, not your mouth.’

‘What a wonder!’
His thought was much clearer than his voice had been.

‘Give me a moment to brush the cobwebs off the spell, Malon,’
I said.
‘I haven’t used the place in centuries.’
I’ve noticed that little touches of housekeeping tend to reinforce belief.
‘There,’
I said after a minute or so, ‘
is that better?’

‘Much better, me Lady.’
Actually, there was no real difference.

We tried for some distance after that, and we continued the little game until well after midnight, and by then the whole thing was firmly locked in Malon’s mind. Then we returned to the library. ‘I’d probably better be getting back now,’ I told him. ‘Father’s almost certain to come nosing about soon. He’s got me pinned down, so you’re going to have to convey my orders to General Halbren. I’ll give you a written authorization to speak for me, and that should head off any arguments. You and I are going to have to stay in close contact, so I want you to go up to that tower room every day at sunset so that we can talk. You’ll have to let me know what’s going on and advise me about things
that need my attention. I’ll tell you how to deal with anything that comes up.’