I’d decided to hold off on the Mrin Codex, which was clearly the more
difficult of the two. Difficulty is a relative term when you’re
talking about those two documents, however. The need to conceal the
meaning of the prophecy made both of them very obscure.
After several years of intensive study, I began to develop a vague
perception of what lay in store for us. I didn’t like it very much,
but at least I had a fuzzy sort of idea about what was coming. The
Darine Codex is more general than the Mrin, but it does identify a
number of cautionary signals. Each time one of those meetings is about
to take place, it’ll be preceded by a very specific event. At least
that would give us a bit of warning.
It must have been ten years or so later when Dras Bull-neck sent a
messenger to the Vale to advise us that the Mrin Prophet had died and
to deliver copies of the entire Mrin Codex. I laid aside Bormik’s
prophecy and dug into the ravings of that madman who’d spent most of
his life chained to a post. As I just mentioned, the Darine Codex had
given me a generalized idea of what was coming, and that made the Mrin
Codex at least marginally comprehensible. It was still very rough
going, though.
Polgara continued her own studies, and Beldin went back to Mallorea, so
I was able to concentrate. As usually happens when I’m deeply into
something, I lost track of time, so I can’t really tell you exactly
when it was that the Master came to me again, only that he had some
very specific instructions. I regretfully set my studies aside and
left for southern Tolnedra the very next morning.
I stopped by Prolgu to speak with the Gorim, and then I went to Tol
Borune to have a few words with the grand duke. He wasn’t very happy
when I told him of the plans I had for his son, but when I advised him
that what I was proposing would prepare the way for his family to
ascend the Imperial Throne in Tol Honeth, he agreed to think about it.
I didn’t think it was really necessary to tell him that the elevation
of the Borunes wasn’t going to take place for about five hundred years.
There’s no real point in confusing people with picky little details, is
there?
Then I ventured down to the Wood of the Dryads.
It was that time of year again, and it wasn’t very long before I was
accosted on a forest path by a golden-haired Dryad named Xalla. As
usual, she had an arrow pointed directly at my heart.
“Oh, put that down,” I told her irritably.
“You won’t try to run away, will you?” she demanded.
“Of course not. I need to talk with Princess Xoria.”
“I saw you first. Xoria can have you after I’ve finished with you.”
As I mentioned before, I’d swung by Prolgu on my way to Tolnedra.
My long talk with the Gorim had been about the Dryads, so I was
prepared.
I reached into my pocket and took out a piece of chocolate candy.
“Here,” I said, holding it out to her.
“What’s that?” “It’s something to eat. Try it. You’ll like it.”
She took the candy and sniffed at it suspiciously. Then she popped it
into her mouth.
You wouldn’t believe how she reacted. There’s something about
chocolate that does strange things to Dryads. I’ve seen many women in
the throes of passion, but Xalla carried it to such extremes that it
actually embarrassed me. Finally I turned my back and went off a
little distance so that she could have some privacy.
I don’t know that I need to go into any greater detail. I’m sure you
get the picture.
Anyway, after the chocolate had run its course through her tiny body,
Xalla was very docile–even kittenish. You might want to keep that in
mind the next time you’re going through the Wood of the Dryads. I know
that it’s a point of pride among most young men to claim unlimited
stamina in that particular area of human activity, but these are the
young men who’ve never encountered a Dryad at that time of year.
Take chocolate with you. Trust me.
My affectionate little companion took me through the Wood to Princess
Xoria’s tree. Xoria was even tinier than Xalla, and she had flaming
red hair. Now that I think about it, she very closely resembled her
ultimate great-granddaughter. She was comfortably lying on a bed of
moss in a fork of her tree about twenty feet up when Xalla led me into
the clearing. She looked at me a bit appraisingly.
“I appreciate the gift, Xalla.” she said critically, “but isn’t it a
bit old?”
“It has some food in its pocket, Xoria,” Xalla replied.
“And the food makes you feel very nice.”
“I’m not hungry,” the princess said indifferently.
“You really ought to try some, Xoria,” Xalla urged her.
“I just ate. Why don’t you take it out into the Wood and kill it? It’s
probably too old to be much good.”
“Just try a piece of its candy,” Xalla pressed.
“You’ll really like it.”
“Oh, all right, I guess.” The Dryad princess climbed down.
“Give me some,” she commanded me.
“As your Highness wishes,” I replied, reaching into my pocket.
Princess Xoria’s reaction to the chocolate was even more intense than
Xalla’s had been, and when she finally recovered her composure, she
seemed to have lost her homicidal impulses.
“Why have you come into our Wood, old man?” she asked me.
“I’m supposed to suggest a marriage to you,” I replied.
“What’s marriage?”
“It’s a sort of formalized arrangement that involves mating,” I
explained.
“With you? I don’t think so. You’re nice enough, I suppose, but
you’re very old.”
“No,” I told her, “not with me, with somebody else.”
“What’s involved in this marriage business?”
“There’s a little ceremony, and then you live together. You’re
supposed to agree not to mate with anybody else.”
“How boring. Why on earth would I want to agree to something like
that?”
“To protect your Wood, your Highness. If you marry the young man, his
family will keep woodcutters away from your oak trees.”
“We can do that ourselves. A lot of humans have come into our Wood
with axes. Their bones are still here, but their axes turned to rust a
long time ago.”
“Those were single woodcutters, Xoria. If they start coming down here
in gangs, you and your sisters will run out of arrows. They’ll also
build fires.”
“Fire!”
“Humans like fire. It’s one of their peculiarities.”
“Why are you doing this, old man? Why are you trying to force me to
join with somebody I’ve never even seen?”
“Necessity, Xoria. The young man’s a member of the Borune family, and
you’re going to mate with him because a long time from now your
mating’s going to produce someone very special. She’ll be the mate of
the Child of Light, and she’ll be called the Queen of the World.” Then
I sighed and put it to her directly.
“You’re going to do it, Xoria. You’ll argue with me about it, but in
the end, you’ll do as you’re told–just the same as I will. Neither of
us has any choice in the matter.”
“What does this Borune creature look like?”
I’d looked rather carefully at the young man while I’d been talking to
his father, so I cast his image onto the surface of the forest pool at
the foot of Princess Xoria’s tree so that she could see the face of her
future husband.
She gazed at the image with those grass-green eyes of hers, absently
nibbling on the end of one of her flaming red locks.
“It’s not bad-looking,”
she conceded.
“Is it vigorous?”
“All the Borunes are vigorous, Xoria.”
“Give me another piece of candy, and I’ll think about it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The son of the grand duke of the Borunes was named Dellon, and he was a
rather pleasant young man who found the idea of being married to a
Dryad intriguing. I went back to Tol Borune to pick up more candy and
to talk with him privately. I cast Princess Xoria’s image on the
surface of a basin of water for him, and he grew even more interested.
Then I went back to the Wood and dosed Xoria with judiciously spaced
out pieces of sugar-laced candy.
You have to be very careful when you’re feeding chocolate to a Dryad.
If you give her too much, she’ll become addicted, and she won’t be
interested in anything else. I wanted Xoria to be docile, not
comatose.
The major stumbling block in the whole business turned out to be
Dellon’s mother, the grand duchess. The lady was a member of the
Honethite family, and the sole reason the Honeths had arranged her