here, and I might just be able to establish a custom. Maybe I can get
the Mimbrates and Asturians into the habit of bringing their disputes
to Vo Wacune for mediation instead of trying to solve them on the
battlefield.”
“That’s a lot to hope for in Arendia, Pol.”
She shrugged.
“It’s worth a try. Go get cleaned up, father. There’s a grand ball at
the ducal palace tonight, and we’ve been invited–well, I have, but you
can come along as my personal guest.”
“A what?”
“A grand ball, father–music, dancing, polite conversation, that sort
of thing.”
“I don’t dance, Pol.”
She smiled sweetly at me.
“I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time, Old Wolf. You’re a very clever
fellow. Now go bathe and trim your beard.
Don’t embarrass me in public.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I moved around quite a bit during the next six hundred years or so, but
Polgara remained in Vo Wacune. Her assessment of the Wacite Arends
proved to be essentially correct, and with her there to guide them,
they were able to keep a tentative peace in Arendia.
The virtual destruction of the Nadraks had persuaded the cadaverous
Ctuchik to pull in his horns, so there was even an uneasy peace along
the eastern frontier.
As I’d promised Dellon’s father, the Borunes ascended the throne of
Tolnedra–2537 or so, I believe it was. The Vorduvians and the
Honethites had been passing the crown back and forth between them for
centuries, so when Ran Vordue XX died without an heir, the Honeths
assumed that it was their turn again. There were several Honethite
nobles who felt that they were qualified, and the resulting divisions
in that family were severe enough to deadlock the Council of Advisors.
I’ve heard that the bribes were astronomical. Ultimately, a southern
council member rather tentatively placed the name of the Grand Duke of
the Borunes in nomination. The Vorduvians and the Horbites had not
been pleased at the prospect of several centuries of Honethite misrule,
so they dropped their own candidates and swung their support to the
Borunes. Since the Honeths were still divided, they had no single
candidate, and the crown went to the Borunes almost by default.
Ran Borune I was a very capable emperor. The major problem in Tolnedra
at that time was still the ongoing raids along the coast by Cherek
freebooters. Ran Borune took steps almost as soon as his coronation
was over. He pulled the legions out of their garrisons and put them to
work building the highway that now connects Tol Vordue and Tol Horb. He
didn’t make the legions happy by doing that, but he remained firm. He
got his highway, but that was more in the nature of a bonus. His real
purpose in the project was to spread his legions out along the coast to
repel the Chereks no matter where they came ashore. All in all, it
worked out rather well. I’d spent quite some time in Val Alorn trying
to talk sense into various Cherek kings, without much success.
Inevitably, they’d piously declare that they were merely following the
instructions Belar had given them after the Tolnedran invasion of
Maragor. I’d tried to point out that Tolnedra had been sufficiently
punished by now, but they’d refused to listen to me. I suspect that
the loot they were picking up in Tolnedran cities might have had
something to do with that upsurge of religious enthusiasm. When their
raiding parties started encountering the legions, however, their piety
began to cool, and other parts of the world became much more
interesting.
I think it was about 2940 when I happened to swing by Vo Wacune to see
how Polgara was doing. I may have gotten there just in time. Her
Grace, the duchess of Erat, was in love. I knew she’d been spending
too much time in Arendia.
She was in her marble-walled garden tending roses when I arrived.
“Well, Old Wolf,” she greeted me, “what have you been up to?”
I shrugged.
“This and that,” I replied.
“Is the world still in one piece?”
“More or less. I’ve had to patch it a few times, though.”
“Would you look at this?” she said, cutting a rose and handing it to
me. It was a white rose, but not entirely. The tips of the petals
were a pale lavender.
“Very nice,” I said.
“That’s all you can say? Very nice? It’s beautiful, father. Ontrose
developed it just for me.”
“Who’s Ontrose?”
“He’s the man I’m going to marry, father–just as soon as he gets up
the nerve to ask me.”
What was this? I got very careful at that point.
“Interesting idea, Pol.
Send him around and we’ll talk about it.”
“You don’t approve.”
“I didn’t say that. Have you thought your way completely through the
notion, though?”
“Yes, father, I have.”
“And the drawbacks didn’t persuade you to think about it a little
more?”
“What drawbacks were those?”
“Well, in the first place, there’s quite a difference in your ages, I’d
imagine. He’s probably not much over thirty, and if I remember
correctly, you’re about nine hundred and fifty.”
“Nine hundred and forty, actually. What’s that got to do with it?”
“You’ll outlive him, Pol. He’ll be old before you’ve turned around
twice.”
“I think I’m entitled to a little bit of happiness, father–even if it
doesn’t last very long.”
“And were you planning to have children?”
“Of course.”
“The chances are very good that they’ll have normal life-spans, as
well, you know. You won’t get old. They will.”
“Don’t try to talk me out of this, father.”
“I’m not. I’m just pointing out a few realities to you. You remember
how you felt when Beldaran died, don’t you? Do you really want to go
through that again–a half dozen times or so?”
“I can endure it, father. Maybe if I get married, my life will become
normal. Maybe I’ll get old, as well.”
“I wouldn’t make any large wagers on that, Pol. You’ve still got a lot
of things to do, and if I’m reading the Mrin Codex correctly, you’re
going to be around for a long time. I’m very sorry, Pol, but we aren’t
normal.
You’ve been here for almost a thousand years, and I’ve been kicking
around for nearly five.”
“You got married,” she accused.
“I was supposed to, and your mother was very different. She lived
longer, for one thing.”
“Maybe marrying me will extend Ontrose’s life, as well.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. It might seem longer to him, though.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?”
“You’re not the easiest person in the world to get along with, Pol.”
Her eyes turned cold.
“I think we’ve just about exhausted the possibilities of this
conversation, father. Go back to the Vale and keep your nose out of my
affairs.”
“Don’t throw the word “affair” around like that, Pol. It makes me
nervous.”
She drew herself up.
“That will do, father,” she told me. Then she turned and stormed
away.
I stayed around for another couple of weeks, and I even met Ontrose.
He was a nice enough young fellow, I suppose, and he seemed to
understand the situation much better than Pol did. He adored her, of
course, but he was fully aware of just how long she’d been in Vo
Wacune–about six hundred years, if my arithmetic is correct. I was
fairly sure that he was not going to ask her any inappropriate
questions, no matter how much she might have wanted him to.
Finally I left and started back for the Vale. I have certain
advantages, so I was fairly sure that nothing was going to come of
Pol’s infatuation.
She’s frequently mentioned in both the Darine and the Mrin codices, but
there’s no reference to a husband until much later. Either she was
going to come to her senses, or Ontrose would live out his life without
ever asking her to marry him. In either case nothing embarrassing was
likely to happen.
I went back to my studies, but it was only three years later when Pol
called me, rousing me out of a sound sleep in the middle of one
blustery night.
“Father!” Her voice sounded desperate.
“I need you!”
“What’s the matter?”
“The Asturians have betrayed us. They’ve formed an alliance with the
Mimbrates, and they’re marching on Vo Wacune. Hurry, father. There
isn’t much time.”
I rolled out of bed, dressed, and picked up my traveling cloak. I did
stop for a few moments to look at a certain passage in the Mrin Codex
before I left, however. I hadn’t been entirely sure what it meant
before, but Polgara’s urgent summons had suddenly made everything
clear.
Fabled Vo Wacune was doomed. The only thing I could do now was try to
get Pol out of there before the inevitable happened.
I hurried westward to the edge of the Vale through the tag end of that
windy night and went wolf. There wasn’t much point in trying to sprout