Princess of Imperial Tolnedra present herself in the Hall of the Rivan
King. In her wedding gown shall she be clad, and three days shall
she abide there against the coming of the King. And if he comes
not to claim her, shall she be free to go wheresoever her father, the
Emperor, shall decree, for she shall not be the favored one.’
Mergon, the Tolnedran ambassador, objected violently, of course,
but I had all these nice burly Alorns around me to flex their muscles
and make dire predictions about what would happen if the
Tolnedrans chose to ignore my simple little request.
That took care of the Tolnedran government, but it didn’t really
have much impact on Ce’Nedra, who turned out to be the lucky
girl. She seems to have had certain objections. She didn’t have a
very high opinion of her pre-ordained husband in the first place,
and when she discovered that he outranked her, she went up in
flames. Rank and station were very important to Ce’Nedra,
evidently. I’ll grant you that our tiny princess can be absolutely
adorable – when she wants something – but she aged me far more than
several dozen centuries ever did. To give you some idea of just how
stubborn she could be, it finally took a God – Eriond – to get her
anywhere near the Hall of the Rivan King on the appointed day.
It’s entirely possible that Eriond will unify the world in peace and
harmony, but that won’t even come close to his victory over
Ce’Nedra that day in the caverns of Ulgo.
That, of course, brings us to the question of just who it was who
prompted mother to insist that I slip that ridiculous obligation into
the Accords of Vo Mimbre. If we were out to elect the most probable
perpetrator, my vote would go to UL. I’m sure that Gods have a
sense of humor, and UL’s would probably be the most obscure.
Note that I avoided the word ‘perverted’ there. Still, one does have
to wonder about a God who turns his chosen people into moles,
doesn’t one?
Despite my reservations about the Father of the Gods and his
probable involvement, I will credit the Gorim of Ulgo with keeping the
entire conference from blowing up into a general war. The very
presence of ‘the holiest man in the world’ kept everyone at least
marginally civil, and when he read the Accords to us after it Was
all over, the document had a faint tinge of ‘Holy Writ’, and the
various items it contained seemed to have almost the force Of
religious obligations. People are used to doing peculiar things for
religious reasons, so the fact that many things in the Accords didn’t
make any sense was smoothed over as long as we all tacitly agreed
to view them as religious.
it had taken us several weeks to hammer out the Accords, and
that had given Korodullin and Mayaserana enough time to stop
talking about politics and get down to more important things. When
Brand sent for them, they came hand in hand into the throne-room
with that rather silly look on their faces that I recognized
immediately. They’d definitely made peace with each other. I leaned over
to whisper to my father almost as soon as the blushing pair entered.
‘I think you just lost our wager, Old Man,’ I said. ‘I seem to forget.
What was it you put on the line when we made the bet?’
He glared at me.
‘I told you so, father,’ I said sweetly. ‘Try to get used to the sound
of that. I’m going to tell you that I told you so quite often over the
next several centuries. Look upon it as educational. Maybe the next
time I tell you that I know what I’m doing, you’ll believe me.’
‘Do you mind, Polgara?’
‘Not at all, father. I just wanted to be sure that you remembered,
that’s all.’ I gave my head a little toss. ‘I told you so,’ I added.
Mandor and Wildantor went out and found a priest to perform
the wedding ceremony. I didn’t see any blood or visible bruises on
the priest when they brought him in, but his slightly frightened eyes
hinted that there’d been some threats. It was a start, I guess. Threats
are a little more civilized than open violence.
We’d just come through a war, so there was a great deal of
disordered confusion in Vo Mimbre. The wedding of Korodullin and
Mayaserana, therefore, was not surrounded by all the pomp and
ceremony – and parties – which would have taken place in
peacetime. I don’t think that really disappointed the bride and groom
very much. Once Mandorin had patiently pounded the idea that
the wedding technically unified Arendia – under a Mimbrate king
– the priest of Chaldan became very cooperative, and his
spur-of-the-moment wedding sermon wasn’t really too bad. What escaped him
– and most of the Mimbrate wedding guests was the fact that the
wedding produced a joint monarchy. The unification of my poor
Arendia took place in the royal bedchamber.
Then it was time for us to point the Alorns in a generally northerly
direction and to tell them to go home. The presence of a unified
Aloria no ]more than two hundred leagues north of Tol Honeth was
Probably making Ran Borune very nervous. Moreover, there were
Inevitably members of the Bear-Cult in the ranks of the Alorn armies,
and it wouldn’t have been a good idea to give them time to start
having religious experiences brought on by our proximity to Tol
Honeth and all its wealth.
Father and I rode with Brand on up to the Arendish Fair. Then
we said goodbye and rode east toward the border of Ulgoland,
where we were met by several battalions of Algar horsemen. It was
courteous of Cho-Ram to provide us with an escort, so father and
I didn’t make an issue of the fact that the Algars were more of an
inconvenience than anything else. It was late summer anyway, and
since there wasn’t anything pressing for us to do, we didn’t really
mind a horseback ride through the mountains.
‘I’m going on down to the Vale,’ father said when we reached
the Algarian plain. ‘Are you going back to Aldurford?’
‘I don’t think so. There were a lot of Algar soldiers at Vo Mimbre,
and I wouldn’t want some neighbor who’s a veteran to start making
some connections. Celane and I’d better start fresh somewhere.’
‘Maybe you’re right. Let’s get you out of sight somewhere. Have
you got anyplace particular in mind?’
‘I think I’ll take the boy to Sendaria. After Vo Mimbre, there aren’t
too many Murgos left in the world, and they aren’t going to be
welcome in Sendaria – or anyplace else, for that matter.’
He shrugged. ‘That’s your decision, Pol. Celane’s your
responsibility, so whatever you decide is all right with me.’
‘Thank you.’ I wasn’t really trying to be sarcastic, but it did sort
of come out that way. ‘Is there something pressing for you to attend
to at the Vale?’
‘I need a vacation, that’s about all. I’ve been running, a little light
on sleep for the past several years.’ He scratched at his bearded
cheek. ‘I’ll give things a while to settle down, and then I want to
look in on those families I’ve been watching for the last millennium
or so. I want to make sure that they’re all still intact.’
‘What if they aren’t?’
‘I’ll have to make some other arrangements.’
‘Enjoy yourself, but stay out of my hair, father, and this time
mean it.’
‘Whatever you say, Pol. Give my best to Gelane.’ Then he rode
off south toward the Vale while the Algars and I went on toward
the Stronghold. It occurred to me as we rode that I sometimes
underestimated my father. I’d devoted centuries to one family, but father
had been manipulating several all at one time. That probably
explained why he seemed so much like a vagabond most
of the time.
Gelane was fourteen now, and that’s probably the most troublesome
age for a young man. He hovered between childhood and
adulthood, and he bitterly resented the fact that he hadn’t been
permitted to share the fun at Vo Mimbre.
A part of the problem – the major part most likely – arose from
Gelane’s awareness of his identity. When I’d taken Carel, his father,
to the Stronghold, he’d been placed under Cho-Ram’s personal
protection, and Cho-Ram hadn’t fully understood why it was necessary
to keep his ward’s identity a secret. Algar society is closed to
outsiders, so Algars all view each other as relatives. They don’t bother
keeping secrets because there’s no one to keep them from. Thus,
Gelane had grown up knowing who he was and in the company of
those who also knew who he was. He didn’t exactly put on airs, but
he was accustomed to having people address him as ‘your Highness’.