both duchies. The Arendish civil wars had lasted for eons, and if they
were permitted to continue, it was very probable that Mimbre and
Asturia would follow their rulers into extinction.
Mandor and Wildantor led the deputation that came to Brand with a
rather surprising proposal.
“Our hatreds run too deep, Lord Brand,”
Wildantor noted glumly.
“Mandor and I’ve learned to get along, but we’re a couple of unusual
fellows. We can’t really hope that other Arends might be willing to
follow our lead.”
“You all cooperated fairly well during the battle,” Brand replied.
“Couldn’t you build on that?”
Mandor sighed and shook his head.
“Our uneasy truce doth already begin to show signs of strain, Lord
Brand,” he said.
“Some ancient grievance will surely arise to rend us apart again.”
“Our problem’s fairly simple, my Lord,” Wildantor said with a rueful
smile.
“Arendia needs to be unified, but who’s going to rule once we get it
pasted together? No Asturian alive will bow to a Mimbrate king, and
the Mimbrates feel the same way about Asturians.”
“Where are we going with this, gentlemen?” Brand asked.
“We needs must have a king who will unify poor Arendia, my Lord,”
Mandor replied gravely, “and our mutual animosities suggest that this
king cannot be Arendish. Thus, after extended consultation, have we
come to offer the crown of Arendia unto thee.”
Brand blinked. Fortunately, he was wise enough not to laugh.
“I’m honored, gentlemen, but I’ve got responsibilities on the Isle of
the Winds.
I can’t very well rule Arendia from the city of Riva.”
Mandor sighed.
“Then is poor Arendia doomed to endless civil strife,” he mourned.
Brand scratched at his cheek.
“Maybe not,” he said.
“Didn’t Aldorigen have a son?”
“Prince Korodullin, yes,” Mandor replied.
“And didn’t Eldallan have a daughter?”
“Mayaserana,” Wildantor said.
“Now that her father’s dead, she’s the Duchess of Asturia. She’s a
very strong-willed girl–pretty, though.”
“Would you say that the two of them are patriots?”
“Everybody in Arendia’s a patriot, Lord Brand,” Wildantor replied.
“That’s part of our problem.”
“Doesn’t that suggest a solution to your quandary? A king who was
either Mimbrate or Asturian wouldn’t be able to rule, but how about a
joint ruler ship If we could persuade these two young people to get
married and rule jointly . . .” He left it hanging.
The two Arends looked at each other, and then they both burst out
laughing, and the laughter spread through the rest of the Arends.
“Did I say something funny?” Brand asked them.
“You don’t know those two, my Lord,” Wildantor said gaily.
Mandor was still chuckling.
“Thy proposal doth have some merit, my Lord. A marriage between
Korodullin and Mayaserana might well serve to quiet dissention in the
rest of Arendia, but methinks our civil war will continue, though it
will be confined to one household.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Worse, my Lord,” Wildantor assured him.
“We might be able to keep them from killing each other–if we chained
them to opposite walls of the royal bedchamber, but anything less
probably wouldn’t work. Their fathers just killed each other,
remember?”
“Why don’t you bring the two of them here and I’ll talk with them.
Maybe if I appeal to their sense of patriotism, they’ll go along with
the idea.”
Wildantor looked skeptical.
“What do you think, Mandor?” he asked his friend.
“Is it worth a try? We could search them both for weapons before we
brought them here.”
“Gladly would I brave anything to heal our poor Arendia,” Mandor swore
fervently.
“Stout fellow,” Wildantor murmured.
“That’s the most ridiculous proposal I’ve ever heard!” Mayaserana
screamed when Brand presented his idea to her and Korodullin.
“I’d sooner die than marry a Mimbrate butcher!”
“Gladly would I help thee to accomplish that end, outlaw wench!”
Korodullin offered.
It all went downhill from there–quite rapidly.
“I really think you children ought to think this over,” Pol suggested
smoothly, cutting across the screaming.
“You both need to calm down and talk about it–someplace private, I
think. Tell me, my Lord of Mandor, think est thou that there might be
some secluded room where our youngsters here might hold their
discussions without interruption or distraction? At the top of some
tower, perhaps?”
“There is a secure room at the top of the south tower of the palace,
your Grace,” he replied a bit dubiously.
“It hath ofttimes in the past served as a prison for miscreants of
noble birth whose rank forbade their being incarcerated in the
dungeon.”
“Barred windows?” she asked.
“And a stout door that can be locked from the outside?”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“Why don’t we all go have a look at this room?” she suggested.
“It couldn’t hurt to look,” Brand replied.
I took my daughter by the arm and drew her aside.
“They’ll kill each other if you lock them in the same room, Pol,” I
muttered.
“Oh, I don’t think they’ll go that far, father,” she assured me.
“They might yell at each other, but I don’t think they’ll get violent.
There are certain rules of behavior in Arendia that prohibit violence
between men and women.”
“But not between Mimbrates and Asturians.”
“We’ll see, father. We’ll see.”
And so Mayaserana and Korodullin became cellmates. There was a lot of
screaming and yelling at first, but we didn’t really mind that. The
yelling proved that they were both still alive, after all.
I’ve always meant to ask Polgara if the notion of imprisoning those two
together was her own or if Garion’s friend had suggested it to her.
Given his twisted sense of humor, it might very well have been his
idea.
On the other hand, Pol’s very wise about the peculiarities of the human
heart, and she knows what’s likely to happen when two young people are
alone together for any extended period of time. Polgara’s arranged a
long series of marriages; she’s very good at it.
Anyway, after we’d locked the two of them in the south tower of the
palace, we moved on to other things. No war or major battle is ever
complete without an extended conference after the fighting’s over. We
were all a little surprised when the Gorim of Ulgo came to join us in
our discussions. The various Gorims have almost never come out of the
caves.
Ran Borune was tied up with affairs of state in Tol Honeth, so Mergon
represented him, and Podiss came north to speak for Salmissra.
We usurped Aldorigen’s throne room for our conference, largely at
Mandor’s insistence, and after we’d spent a couple of hours
complimenting each other, we got down to business. Ormik, the king of
the ever-practical Sendars, spoke first. Ormik was a rather dumpy,
unassuming sort of fellow, but he was a lot shrewder than he looked.
“Gentlemen,” he started, “and Lady Polgara–it seems to me that we’ve
got too good an opportunity here to pass up. This is one of those rare
occasions when most of the rulers of the Western Kingdoms are gathered
in one place, and the recent unpleasantness put us all on the same side
for a change.
Why don’t we take advantage of this temporary sense of brotherhood to
smooth over all the little disputes that have cropped up over the
years? If we can hammer out a set of accords, we might have some
reason to be grateful to Kal Torak.” He smiled faintly.
“Wouldn’t it be ironic if he came to bring war and the result of his
little adventure was peace?”
“We’ve still got a few little odds and ends to take care of, Ormik,”
Rhodar said.
“There’s an Angarak army occupying Drasnia, and I’d like to persuade
them to pack up and go home.”
“And I’ve still got some Murgos camped around the Stronghold,”
Cho-Ram added.
Then Eldrig took the floor, and I think he got a little carried away.
“Aloria can deal with the few rags and tatters of Angarak still inside
her borders,” he told us. That made me prick up my ears. I’ve used
the word “Aloria” periodically myself, usually to rally the Alorns when
I needed them to do something, but Eldrig’s rather casual introduction
of a name that hadn’t really meant anything since the time of
Bear-shoulders made me more than a little nervous. When some Alorn
starts talking about Aloria, it’s usually a sign that he’s a member of
the Bear-cult, and there was a sizable army of Alorns camped right on
Tolnedra’s northern border.
“We’ve got something a little more momentous to discuss here,” the aged
king of Cherek continued.
“We’ve seen something happen here that’s never happened before. A God
was overthrown right before our eyes. I’m sure the other Gods had a
hand in that, and Brand was their instrument. I don’t know about the
rest of you gentlemen, but that suggests something very interesting to
me. My copy of the Mrin Codex speaks of a Godslayer who’ll become
Overlord of the West. Very well, then. I watched Brand kill Torak