“Why me?” he burst out. “Why do they always bring these things to me?”
“Because they all know that you can take care of these little problems better than anybody else.”
“Thanks,” he said drily.
“Be nice,” she told him. Then she pursed her lips thoughtfully, tapping her cheek with the ivory comb. “You’ll need your crown, of course -and I think the blue and silver doublet would be nice.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re going to have to go to Arendia to get this all straightened out, and I think you should look your very best -Arends are so conscious of appearances. Why don’t you go see about a ship? I’ll pack a few things for you.” She looked out the window at the golden afternoon sunlight. “Do you think it might be too warm for you to wear your ermine?”
“I won’t be wearing ermine, Ce’Nedra. I’ll be wearing armor and my sword.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Garion. All you have to do is go there and tell them to stop.”
“Maybe, but I have to get their attention first. This is Mandorallen we’re talking about -and Lelldorin. We’re not dealing with sensible people, remember?”
A little frown creased her forehead. “Thatis true,” she admitted. But then she gave him an encouraging little smile. “I’m sure you can fix it, though. I have every confidence in you.”
“You’re as bad as all the rest,” he said a bit sullenly.
“But youcan, Garion. Everybody says so.”
“I guess I’d better go talk to Brand,” he said glumly. “There are some things that need to be attended to, and this is likely to take me a few weeks.”
“I’ll take care of them for you, dear,” she said reassuringly, reaching up and patting his cheek. “You just run along now. I can manage things here very well while you’re gone.”
He stared at her with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
When he arrived at Vo Mandor on a cloudy morning several days later, the situation had deteriorated even further. The forces of Sir Embrig were in the field, encamped not three leagues from Mandorallen’s castle, and Mandorallen and Lelldorin had marched from the city to meet them.
Garion thundered up to the gates of his friend’s stout fortress on the warhorse he had borrowed from an accommodating baron upon his arrival in Arendia. He wore the full suit of steel armor that had been a gift from King Korodullin, and Iron-grip’s enormous sword rode in its scabbard across his back. The gates swung wide for him, and he entered the courtyard, swung awkwardly down from his saddle, and demanded to be taken immediately to the Baroness Nerina.
He found her pale-faced and dressed all in black, standing somberly on the battlements, searching the cloudy sky to the east for the telltale columns of smoke which would announce that the battle had begun.
“It doth lie upon me, King Belgarion,” she declared almost morbidly. “Strife and discord and anguish hath derived from me since the day I first wed my dear departed lord.”
“There’s no need to blame yourself,” Garion told her. “Mandorallen can usually get himself into trouble without help from anyone. When did he and Lelldorin leave?”
“Somewhat past noon yesterday.” she replied. “Methinks the battle will be joined ‘ere long.” She looked mournfully down at the flagstones of a courtyard lying far below and sighed.
“I guess I’d better go then,” he said grimly. “Maybe if I can get there before they start, I can head this off.”
“I have just had a most excellent thought, your Majesty,” she declared, a bright little smile lighting up her pale face. “I can make thy task much easier.”
“I hopesomebody can,” he said. “The way things look right now, I’m going to be in for a very bad morning.”
“Make haste then, your Majesty; to the field where rude war even now doth hover above our dear friends, and advise them that the cause of their impending battle hath departed from this sad world.”
“I’m not sure I follow that.”
“It is most simple, your Majesty. SinceI am the cause of all this strife, it doth lie upon me to end it.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Just what are we talking about here, Nerina? How do you propose to bring all those idiots to their senses?”
Her smile became actually radiant. “I have but to hurl myself from this lofty battlement, my Lord, and join my husband in the silence of the grave to end this dreadful bloodshed before it hath begun. Go quickly, my Lord. Descend to that courtyard far below and take to horse. I will descend by this shorter, happier route and await thee upon those rude stones below. Then mayest thou carry the news of my death to the battlefield. Once I am dead, no man’s blood need be spilt over me.” She put one hand on the rough stone of the parapet.
“Oh, stop that,” he said in disgust, “and get away from there.”
“Ah, nay, your Majesty.” she said quite firmly. “This is the best of all possible answers. At one stroke I can avert this impending battle and rid myself of this burdensome life.”
“Nerina,” he said in a flat voice, “I’m not going to let you jump, and that’s all there is to that.”
“Surely thou wouldst not be so rude as to lay hands upon my person to prevent me,” she said in a shocked tone of voice.
“I won’t have to,” he said. He looked at her pale, uncomprehending face and realized that she did not have the faintest idea of what he was talking about. “On second thought, maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all. The trip down to that courtyard is likely to take you about a day and a half, so it should give you time to think this all the way through -besides, it might just possibly keep you out of mischief while I’m gone.”
Her eyes went suddenly wide as what he was saying to her seeped ever so slowly into her mind. “Thou wouldst not usesorcery to foil my most excellent solution,” she gasped.
“Try me.”
She looked at him helplessly, tears coming to her eyes. “This is most unchivalrous of thee, my Lord,” she accused him.
“I was raised on a farm in Sendaria, my Lady,” he reminded her. “I didn’t have the advantages of a noble upbringing, so I have these little lapses from time to time. I’m sure you’ll forgive me for not letting you kill yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go stop that nonsense out there.” He turned and clanked toward the stairs. “Oh,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her, “don’t get any ideas about jumping as soon as my back’s turned either. I have a long arm, Nerina -a very long arm.”
She stared at him, her lip trembling.
“That’s better,” he said and went on down the stairs.
The servants in Mandorallen’s castle took one look at Garion’s stormy face as he strode into the courtyard below and prudently melted out of his path. Laboriously, he hauled himself into the saddle of the huge roan warhorse upon which he had arrived, adjusted the great sword of the Rivan King in its scabbard across his back, and looked around.
“Somebody bring me a lance,” he commanded.
They brought him several, stumbling over each other in their haste to comply. He selected one and then set off at a thundering gallop.
The citizens of the town of Vo Mandor, which lay just beyond the walls of Mandorallen’s keep, were as prudent as the servants within the walls had been. A wide path was opened along the cobblestone streets as the angry King of Riva passed through, and the town gates stood wide open for him.
Garion knew that he was going to have to get their attention, and Arends on the verge of battle are notoriously difficult to reach. He would need to startle them with something. As he thundered through the green Arendish countryside, past neat, thatch-roofed villages and groves of beech and maple, he cast an appraising eye toward the gray, scudding clouds overhead, and the first faint hints of a plan began to form in his mind.
When he arrived, he found the two armies drawn up on opposite sides of a broad, open meadow. As was the age-old Arendish custom, a number of personal challenges had been issued, and those matters were in the process of being settled as a sort of prelude to the grand general melee which would follow. Several armored knights from either side were tilting in the center of the field as the two armies looked on approvingly. Enthusiastically, the brainless, steel-clad young nobles crashed into each other, littering the turf with splinters from the shattered remains of their lances.
Garion took in the situation at a single glance, scarcely pausing before riding directly into the middle of the fray. It must be admitted that he cheated just a little during the encounter. The lance he carriedlooked the same as those with which the Mimbrate knights were attempting to kill or maim each other. About the only real difference lay in the fact thathis lance, unlike theirs, would not break, no matter what it encountered and was, moreover, enveloped in a kind of nimbus of sheer force. Garion had no real desire to run the sharp steel tip of that lance through anybody. He merely wanted them off their horses. On his first course through the center of the startled, milling knights, he hurled three of them from their saddles in rapid succession. Then he wheeled his charger and unhorsed two more so quickly that the vast clatter they made as they fell merged into a single sound.