with my own eyes, and I’m ready to take the next step. Cherek
acknowledges Brand’s Overlordship. If we’ve all got one ruler, those
disputes Ormik spoke of will evaporate.”
“He’s got a point there,” Cho-Ram said thoughtfully.
“Brand and I get along fairly well, so I think Algaria can join Cherek
in this. I’ll acknowledge Brand’s Overlordship, too.”
Those idiots! Brand wasn’t the one the Mrin was talking about! It was
Garion, and he hadn’t even been born yet!
“I suppose we might as well make it unanimous,” Rhodar chimed in.
“The Children of the Bear God speak as one. Brand is Overlord.”
“Aren’t we going a little fast here?” Ormik protested.
“I’m part Alorn myself, and I’d be more than willing to accept Brand as
Overlord. I’ll go wherever he tells me to go, but I think I’d like to
hear from Tolnedra, Ulgo, Arendia, and Nyissa before I start making
plans for a coronation. We’ve got all the armies of the West camped
right here. If those of us who happen to be Alorn rush into something
exotic and offend the non-Alorn rulers, we could have a second Battle
of Vo Mimbre before the blood even dries off the grass from the first
one.”
Then the oily, reptilian Podiss, the emissary of Queen Salmissra,
rose.
“The king of the Sendars speaks wisely. Much have I marveled at the
readiness of sovereign kings to submit to the Overlordship of a man of
no known heritage. Brand isn’t even the king of the Isle of the Winds.
He’s nothing more than a caretaker. I don’t even have to send to
Sthiss Tor for instructions about this. Eternal Salmissra will never
swear fealty to a nameless Alorn butcher.”
“You Nyissans have very short memories, Podiss,” Eldrig said angrily.
“If you haven’t got a history book with you, I’ll send for one. You
might want to look over the chapter that deals with what happened to
Nyissa in the year four thousand and two after Salmissra murdered King
Gorek.”
Then Mergon stood up.
“Let’s not start threatening each other, gentlemen.
This is supposed to be a peace conference, remember?” He paused
thoughtfully.
“I yield to no one in my admiration for the Rivan Warder. I greet Lord
Brand in the name of my emperor, and extend him an invitation to come
to Tol Honeth so that Ran Borune may honor him as befits the foremost
warrior of the West. Let us not, however, rush into unchangeable
decisions in the first flush of admiration and gratitude. I’m sure
that noble Brand would be the first to agree that the arts of war and
the arts of peace have little in common, and they’re seldom linked in
one man. A battle is soon over, but the burdens of peace grow heavier
with each passing year.” He paused again, and then he spoke rather
firmly.
“I’m troubled by this talk of Aloria, gentlemen. I’ve heard of Cherek
and Drasnia and Algaria, and all the world knows about the Isle of the
Winds and unassailable Riva. But where is this Aloria? What are its
boundaries?
Where is its capital? There hasn’t been a place called Aloria since
the days of Cherek Bear-shoulders. I’m startled by this sudden
reemergence of a kingdom long buried in the mists of antiquity.
Imperial Tolnedra must deal with mundane reality. We can’t send
emissaries to the court of the king of the Fairies. We can’t conclude
a treaty with the Emperor of the Moon. We can only have commerce with
earthly kingdoms. Myth and legend, however grand, can’t enter into the
affairs of the empire; not if we want to keep any kind of stability in
the world.”
I could see Eldrig’s face getting redder and redder. Mergon was
definitely pushing his luck.
“I’m puzzled about something else, as well,” Ran Borune’s spokesman
went on.
“Why have you all suddenly decided to disregard long-standing covenants
and treaties? You’ve all signed those treaties with the empire, and
now you’re just throwing them out the window. Is it really wise to
offend Ran Borune? Particularly in view of the size of his army?”
“Listen to me, Mergon,” Eldrig growled pugnaciously.
“Aloria’s where I say it is, and I’ve got a big enough army to back me
up. If you want to go back to Tol Honeth to report what we’ve decided
here, go right ahead. My war-boats move fast enough that I’ll probably
be there before you make it. If I have to, I’ll explain the situation
to Ran Borune myself.
Then I’ll go on to Sthiss Tor and do the same for Salmissra.”
“That should do, Eldrig,” the Gorim said at that point.
“We’re starting to approach that second Battle of Vo Mimbre that King
Ormik mentioned. One battle here is quite enough, wouldn’t you say?
You Alorn kings want to appoint Brand Overlord of the West–because
he’s an Alorn. Tolnedra and Nyissa don’t mind honoring him, but
they’re not really interested in submitting to his Overlordship–also
because he’s an Alorn. Let’s back away from this incipient war. We’ve
managed to get enough people killed already. The plain fact is that no
one man can rule the entire West, so let’s just drop that notion right
here and now. I think I know Brand well enough to know that he
wouldn’t accept that crown if you offered it to him.”
“Well put, Holy Gorim,” Brand agreed fervently.
“I hate to disappoint you, Eldrig, but I’m not this Overlord of yours.
Go find somebody else to saddle with the title.”
“We can’t just do nothing, Brand!” Eldrig protested.
“You killed Torak. We’ve got to find some way to honor you for that.
How about a contribution from all our treasuries or something?”
“A suggestion, perhaps?” Gorim interposed.
“Why not give Brand an Imperial Tolnedran Princess to be his wife?
That’s probably the greatest honor Tolnedra can bestow.”
“I’ve already got a wife. Holy One,” Brand told him, “and only a
madman wants more than one. I don’t need a crown; I don’t need a
Tolnedran princess; and I don’t need the treasuries of the other
kingdoms.
What do Rivans need with treasure?” He put his hand on his shield.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve already got one, and our race has
guarded it with our lives for over two thousand years now. Would you
inflict another treasure on us to guard? How many lives do we have?
The Gorim’s right. I can’t sit in Riva and run the world. If
something came up somewhere in Nyissa or down in the Caves of Ulgo,
it’d be months before I even heard about it. Not only that, I serve
Belar. I think we might offend Nedra and Issa and Chaldan if I assumed
some kind of Overlordship, not to mention that UL might object. If
there is going to be an Overlord, the appointment’s going to have to
come from the Gods, not from men.”
It was at that point that I decided to put down this nonsense for good
and all. I stood up.
“Gladly will we hear the counsel of the Eternal Man,” Gorim murmured.
“Glad or not, you’re going to get it,” I said bluntly.
“What in the names of all the Gods possessed you to come up with this
absurd idea, Eldrig? Brand’s not the one who’s going to be the
Overlord. Surely you realize that.”
Eldrig looked a little embarrassed.
“Well, he did beat Torak, didn’t he? I thought I could take it one
step further, is all.” Then he threw up his hands.
“All right, I was pushing. I’ll admit it. I was hoping that this was
the final EVENT. I wanted it to happen during my lifetime, so I
thought I might be able to bend the prophecy a little. I was probably
wrong. I’m sorry. The Mrin could mean Brand, though, couldn’t it?”
“Absolutely not,” Beltira told him.
“The Rivan King is going to be Overlord, not the Rivan Warder.”
“Well,” Eldrig floundered weakly,
“I thought that Brand was almost the same as a king.”
“Not from where I sit, I’m not,” Brand told him.
“Just forget that I even mentioned it,” Eldrig gave up.
“You can count on that,” I said.
“The Overlord will come, though, Belgarath,” the Gorim reminded me.
“I know.”
“Will you be here to guide him?”
“Probably so. I don’t feel any symptoms of incipient mortality coming
over me yet. Pol and I’ll take care of it when the time comes. We’ve
been at it for a long time now.”
“The Mrin does say that the Overlord’s going to marry a Tolnedran
Princess, you know.”
“I know all about it, Gorim. I’m the one who introduced the Dryad
strain into the Borune line to get ready for it.”
“What is this Mrin thing you people keep talking about?” Mergon
demanded.
“I thought that the Mrin was a river in Drasnia.”
“It’s an Alorn holy book, your Excellency,” Pol told him.
“It foretells the future.”