“I’m sorry, Lady Polgara, but nothing foretells the future.”
“It hasn’t been wrong yet, your Excellency,” Beltira disagreed.
“That’s probably because it’s so general that it doesn’t really mean
anything,” Mergon scoffed.
“No, actually it’s very specific. It’s hard to read, but once you
unravel it, it tells you exactly what’s going to happen.”
“Only if you believe, Master Beltira. I’ve seen the holy books of
other races, and they mean absolutely nothing to me.”
“That’s probably Nedra’s doing, Mergon,” I said.
“Nedra doesn’t like mysticism of any kind. You’ve got a very practical
God. Let’s move along, gentlemen. If we’re going to come up with a
set of accords here, we’d better get at it–unless you’d all like to
just sign blank pieces of parchment.
I could fill in the contents later, if you’d rather do it that way.”
“Nice try, Belgarath.” Beldin chuckled.
“Just exactly what has to be in these accords?”
I turned to the twins.
“You two are the experts. What does the Mrin say? How much should we
nail down, and how much can we just leave open?”
“I think we’ll want to establish the marriage of the king and the
princess,” Beltira replied.
“That almost has to be agreed upon.”
“And the Overlordship, as well,” Belkira added.
“That must be in the accords so that there won’t be any question about
it when the time comes.
The Rivan King’s going to have to give certain orders, and the kings of
the other nations are going to have to obey them. Otherwise Torak’s
going to win next time.”
“Will you people talk sense?” Mergon burst out.
“There is no Rivan King. That line died with King Gorek.”
“Oh, just tell him, Belgarath,” Rhodar said disgustedly.
“He’ll argue about it for a week if you don’t.”
“And have him spread the information all over Tol Honeth? Be serious,
Rhodar.”
“I’m a diplomat, Belgarath,” Mergon said in an offended tone of
voice.
“I know how to keep secrets.”
“You might as well go ahead and tell him, father,” Polgara told me.
“He’s going to start making some educated guesses anyway before we go
much further with this.”
I looked around at the assembled kings and emissaries.
“I’ll have an oath of silence on this, gentlemen,” I said.
“Those of you with ambassadorial rank can tell your rulers, but I don’t
want this going any further.” I gave them all a hard look, and they
mumbled their agreement.
“To put it very shortly,” I told them, “the Rivan line did not die out
when Gorek was killed. One of his grandsons survived. The line’s
still intact, and someday one of that line will return to Riva and
resume his throne. That’s the information that doesn’t leave this
room. We’ve had enough trouble protecting those heirs without their
existence becoming general knowledge.”
I’m not really positive that Mergon believed me, but Eldrig and the
other Alorns were feeling muscular, so he behaved as if he believed. He
really didn’t have anything to lose, after all. If I was lying to him,
there’d never be a Rivan King to marry one of those precious Imperial
Princesses, nor would anyone ever become Overlord of the West, so he
went along with us, largely to pacify the Alorns, I believe.
Podiss, however, was another matter. Nyissans tend to be a little
touchy about the fact that their kingdom is the only one ruled by a
woman, and any kind of disparagement of Salmissra, real or imagined,
raises screams of outrage. To put it rather bluntly, however, Nyissa
doesn’t loom very large in the family of nations. It’s a swampy
backwater with a small population and, aside from the slave trade, it
doesn’t have much in the way of commerce. When it became more and more
obvious that the accords weren’t even going to mention Nyissa, Podiss
lost his temper.
“And what of my queen, Eternal Salmissra?” he demanded.
“What voice will she have in this ordering of the world?”
“Not a very loud one,” Eldrig said, “at least not if I can help it, she
won’t. She won’t have to do anything except sign the document,
Podiss-that and keep her nose out of matters that don’t concern her.”
Eldrig wasn’t exactly what you’d call the soul of diplomacy.
“I’ll have no further part in this,” Podiss said, rising to his feet.
“And I won’t insult my queen by carrying this absurdity to her. Write
down anything you wish, gentlemen, but Salmissra won’t sign it.”
This was the point in his account of the conference where Davoul the
Lame lost his head entirely. His epic blandly asserts that Polgara
sprang to her feet, turned Podiss into a snake, changed herself into an
owl, and carried him off into the sky. I think it was the fact that
Davoul suddenly realized that he’d gone for ten whole pages without any
magic that pushed him over the edge. Polgara did do something to
Podiss, but it didn’t involve anything like that. It was probably a
lot worse, but nobody else at the conference saw it. She simply went
to where Podiss was standing and did much the same thing to him as
she’d done to Eldallan in the Asturian Forest. I haven’t any idea at
all of what she showed him–he didn’t scream at all–but whatever it
was made him pale and very cooperative.
It also persuaded Mergon to keep his objections to himself from then
on.
It took us another day or so to finish the Accords of Vo Mimbre, and
yet another day for a Mimbrate scribe to cast them into “high style.”
Since the Mimbrates were our hosts, it was only polite to let them
produce the final version. When that was all finished, the Gorim took
up his copy, rose to his feet, and read to us.
These then are the Accords which we have reached here at Vo Mimbre. The
nations of the West will prepare themselves for the return of the Rivan
King, for in the day of his return shall Torak awaken and come again
upon us, and none but the Rivan King may overcome him and save us from
his foul enslavement.
And whatsoever the Rivan King commands, that shall we do.
And he shall have an Imperial Princess of Tolnedra to wife and shall
have Empire and Dominion in the West. And whosoever breaketh these
accords, will we do war upon him and scatter his people and pull down
his cities and lay waste his lands. We pledge it here in honor of
Brand, who hath overthrown Torak and bound him in sleep until the One
comes who might destroy him. So be it.
Eldrig leaned back in his chair.
“Well,” he said, “now that’s taken care of. I guess we can all go
home.”
“Not quite yet, your Majesty,” Wildantor disagreed.
“There’s still a royal wedding in the works.”
“I’d almost forgotten about that,” Eldrig said.
“Are those two still screaming at each other?”
“No,” Pol told him.
“The screaming stopped a few days ago. The last time I listened at the
door, there was a lot of giggling going on. Evidently Mayaserana’s a
bit ticklish.”
“I wonder what they can be doing,” the Gorim said mildly.
“We probably can start our armies marching toward home,” Rhodar put
in.
“Ordinary soldiers aren’t really very interested in royal weddings, and
I’d like to have my pike men at the Drasnian border before the end of
summer.”
“I can have my war boats take them to Kotu, if you’d like,” Eldrig
offered.
“Thanks all the same, Eldrig, but Drasnians aren’t very good sailors.
I’m fairly sure that my pike men would rather walk.”
Then Brand sent for Korodullin and Mayaserana. They were both blushing
when they were escorted into his presence.
“Have you two more or less settled your differences?” he asked them.
“We really should apologize. Lord Brand,” Mayaserana said in a tone of
sweet reasonableness and a rosy blush.
“We both behaved very badly when you made that suggestion.”
“Oh, that’s all right, Mayaserana,” Brand forgave her.
“I take it you’ve had a change of heart.”
“The sweet light of reason hath opened our eyes, Lord Brand,”
Korodullin assured him, also blushing, “and our duty to Arendia hath
touched our hearts and caused our animosity to fade. Though we still
have our differences, we are both willing to set them aside for the
sake of our homeland.”
“I was almost certain you’d see it that way,” Polgara said with a faint
smile.
Mayaserana blushed again.
“And when would you like to have us married. Lord Brand?” she
asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Brand replied.
“Have either of you got anything urgent to take care of tomorrow?”
“What’s wrong with today?” she countered. Patience, it appeared,
wasn’t Mayaserana’s strong suit, and she had things on her mind.
“I think we could arrange that,” Brand told her.
“Somebody go get a priest of Chaldan.”
“There might be a problem there, Lord Brand,” Wildantor said