I scowled at the floor of Beldin’s tower for a moment.
“You’d better stay clear of Murgo territory, though, just to be on the
safe side.”
“You’ve got a peculiar idea of “safe,” Belgarath. If I can’t go
through Cthol Murgos, I’ll have to go through Tolnedra, and the legions
won’t like that very much.”
“I’ll swing over to Tol Honeth before I go back to Val Alorn. The
Vorduvians are back in power again, but Ran Vordue the First has been
on the throne only for about a year. I’ll talk with him.”
“Inexperienced people make mistakes, Belgarath.”
“I know, but they usually hesitate before they make them. We’ll be
finished in Nyissa before he makes up his mind.”
Beldin shrugged.
“It’s your war. I’ll see you in Sthiss Tor.”
I flew to Tol Honeth then and went to the Imperial Compound. Some
forged documents identified me as a special emissary of the Alorn
kings, and I got in to see the emperor immediately.
Emperor Ran Vordue I of the Third Vorduvian Dynasty was a youngish man
with deep-sunk eyes and a gaunt face. He was seated on a marble
throne, and he was wearing the traditional gold-colored mantle.
“Welcome to Tol Honeth, Ancient One,” he greeted me. He knew in a
general sort of way who I was, but like most Tolnedrans, he thought my
name was some kind of hereditary title.
“Let’s skip the pleasantries and get to the point, Ran Vordue,” I told
him.
“The Nyissans have assassinated the Rivan King, and the Alorns are
mounting a punitive expedition.”
“What? Why wasn’t I told?”
“You just were. There’s going to be a technical violation of your
borders. I strongly advise you just to let it slide. The Alorns are
feeling belligerent just now. Their business is with the Nyissans, but
if your legions get in their way, they’ll plow them under. The Algars
and Drasnians are going to march south through the Tolnedran Mountains.
Pretend you don’t see them.”
“Can’t this be settled without war?” he asked me rather plaintively.
“I have some very good negotiators at my disposal. They could persuade
Salmissra to pay reparations or something.”
“I’m afraid not, your Majesty. You know how Alorns are. Halfway
measures won’t satisfy them. Just stay out of it.”
“Couldn’t your Alorns go through Murgo territory instead? I’m new on
the throne, Belgarath. If I don’t take some kind of action, I’ll be
viewed as a weakling.”
“Send letters of protest to the Alorn kings. I’ll make them apologize
after it’s all over.” Then an idea came to me.
“Here’s a thought,” I told him.
“If you want to do something muscular to impress the Honeths and the
Horbites, send your legions down to your southern border and seal it
off. Don’t let anybody come across.”
He squinted at me.
“Very clever, Belgarath,” he said.
“You’re using me, aren’t you? If I seal that border, you won’t have
to.”
I grinned at him.
“You’re going to have to do something, Ran Vordue.
The politics of the situation almost demands it. The Honeths will
start calling you Ran Vordue the Chicken-Livered if you don’t march
your legions off in some direction. I guarantee that the Alorns won’t
cross that border, and the other great families might accept the notion
that it was your show of force that kept them out. We’ll both get
something we want that way.”
“You’ve got me over a barrel, Old Man.”
“I know,” I replied.
“It’s up to you, though. You know what’s coming, and you know what
you’d probably better do about it. Oh, one other thing. Who’s the
most deeply involved in the Nyissan trade?”
“The Honeths,” he replied shortly.
“They’re in it up to their ears.
They’ve got millions invested down there.” Then a slow, evil smile
came over his gaunt face.
“A disruption of the Nyissan economy would push the Honeths to the
verge of bankruptcy, you realize.”
“Wouldn’t that be a shame? You see, Ran Vordue? Every cloud has its
silver lining. All you have to do is look for it. Well, we’ve both
got things to do, so I won’t bother you any more. Think it over. I’m
sure you’ll come to the right decision.” Then I bowed perfunctorily
and left him to his amusements.
Another one of those early summer storms swept in out of the Great
Western Sea to batter the coast, so it took me almost a week to get
back to Val Alorn. By the time I got there, Valcor had assembled his
fleet and gathered his army. I contacted Beldin, and he advised me
that the Algars and Drasnians had joined forces at the Algarian
stronghold and were marching south. Everything seemed to be on
schedule, so I unleashed Valcor and his berserkers.
The storm had finally passed, and we sailed from Val Alorn under a
bright blue sky. I had a few tense moments when we went through the
Cherek Bore, but otherwise the voyage to the Isle of the Winds was
uneventful.
The meeting between Valcor and Brand there on the wharf was emotional.
Brand had lost his king, and Valcor had lost a brother Alorn monarch.
Valcor suggested a few memorial tankards, but I headed that off
immediately.
“We’re running behind, gentlemen,” I told them crisply.
“Radek and Cho-Ram are already in the Tolnedran Mountains, and it’s a
long way to the mouth of the River of the Serpent. We can do our
drinking after the war. Let’s get the Rivans on board and get
started.”
We sailed southward past Arendia and Tolnedra and anchored just off the
mouth of the River of the Woods. For any number of reasons. Ran
Vordue had followed my suggestion, and his legions were patrolling the
north bank of the river.
We waited there for a couple of days. It was only a short run on down
to the delta of the River of the Serpent, but I didn’t want to alert
the Nyissans by dropping anchor in their coastal waters while we waited
for Radek and Cho-Ram to get into position.
I’d just come up on deck on the morning of the third day when Beldin’s
voice came banging on the side of my head.
“Belgarath! Are you awake?”
“Don’t shout. I can hear you.”
“We’re in place, but let’s give the Drasnian pike men a day or so to
catch their breath. We ran them pretty hard coming down through the
mountains.”
“It’ll take us a few days to get to the mouth of the River of the
Serpent anyway. Stay clear of the Tolnedran border. Ran Vordue has it
sealed off, and we don’t want any incidents with the legions.”
“How did you get him to do that?”
“I pointed out certain advantages to him. Send a strike force south to
block off any escape routes going in that direction. I’ll do the same
from this side, and when those two columns meet, we can get started
with this.”
“Right.”
And that was more or less the way we did it. I’ll be the first to
concede that the Tolnedran Legions were very useful, although they
didn’t really do anything except stand there.
The Nyissans have always believed that their jungles would protect
them. This time they were wrong. We’d run Radek’s pike men to the
verge of exhaustion, but we’d reached Nyissa before the rains set in.
The swamps had nearly dried up, and the trees were parched. The
Nyissans took to the woods, and we simply burned the woods out from
under them.
I’m told that the vast clouds of smoke drifting northward bothered the
Honethites a great deal. They could almost smell their money
burning.
The Vorduvians, Borunes, and Horbites were able to view the matter
philosophically, however.
Wars are never pretty, but the Alorn campaign in Nyissa was
particularly ugly. The Algar cavalry drove the Nyissans ahead of them
like a herd of terrified cows, and when the Nyissans tried to climb
trees to escape them, the Drasnian pike men came along and speared them
out of the branches. The Chereks and Rivans set fires, and when the
panic-stricken Nyissans tried to flee, Valcor’s berserkers simply drove
them back into the flames. Frankly, the whole business sickened me,
but we pushed on anyway.
It was a short, nasty war, and it left Nyissa a smoking wasteland. It
accomplished its purpose, however. Centuries passed before the
Nyissans came out of their hiding places, and that effectively kept
them from meddling in international affairs.
Eventually we encircled Sthiss Tor, and after a couple of days we
captured the city.
Beldin and I ran on ahead and reached Salmissra’s gaudy palace about
three jumps ahead of the vengeful Rivans. We definitely didn’t want
anybody to kill the Serpent Queen–at least not until we’d had a chance
to ask her some questions. We sprinted down the corridor that led to
her throne room, burst into that huge, dimly lighted hall, and closed