My father, my uncles, and I really didn’t pay too much attention
to the bickering between the Tolnedrans and the Chereks, but
continued our ongoing struggle with the Mrin Codex. We did pay
attention when Ctuchik began sending more and more Murgos down
the Eastern Escarpment into Algaria in probing raids that had two
basic purposes. Ctuchik wanted to check the defenses of the Algars,
certainly, but he also wanted to mount his warrior class on better
horses. Murgo ponies were about the size of large dogs, and Algar
horses were vastly superior. My father spent a great deal of time in
Algaria during the twenty-second and twenty-third centuries
devising cavalry tactics which the Algars use even to this day. When
Ctuchik’s losses became unacceptable, those raids were largely
discontinued. Part of the charm of Torak’s personality was derived
from the fact that he viewed his Angaraks as little more than
breeding stock, a view that Ctuchik shared. Torak’s third disciple wanted
to increase his herd, not diminish it.
The endless civil war in Arendia continued – and continued, and
continued – as the three warring duchies maneuvered, connived,
and formed tentative alliances – often dissolved in the middle of a
battle. It was ultimately the turmoil in Arendia that took me out of
the seclusion of the Vale and back into the world again.
My three hundredth birthday had passed more or less unnoticed.
Father maintains that I went to Vo Wacune in the twenty-fifth
century, which isn’t too far off the mark. He only missed by a hundred
years, and old people are always a little vague about dates.
My, that was fun, wasn’t it, father?
Actually, my excursion into Arendia started in the year 2312. I was
asleep one night – despite father’s snoring – and I awoke with that
restless feelini that there were eyes on me. I rolled over and saw
the ghostly form of the white snowy owl glowing in the moonlight
in my window. It was mother. ‘Polgara,’ she said crisply, ‘you’d better
pack a few things. You’re going to Vo Wacune.’
‘Whatever for?’ I demanded.
‘Ctuchik’s stirring up trouble in Arendia.’
‘The Arends don’t need any help, mother. They can stir up trouble
enough by themselves without any outside assistance.’
‘Things are a little more serious this time, Pol. Ctuchik has underlings
posing as Tolnedran merchants in each of the duchies. They’re using
various stories to persuade the three dukes that Ran Vordue is offering an
alliance, but Ran Vordue doesn’t know anything about it. If Ctuchik’s plan
works, there’ll be a war between Arendia and Tolnedra. The Wacite duke’s
the most intelligent of the three, so go to Vo Wacune, find out what’s
going on, and put a stop to it. The Master’s depending on you, Pol.’
‘I’ll leave at once, mother,’ I promised.
The next morning I began to pack.
‘Moving, Pol?’ father asked mildly. ‘Was it something I said?’
‘I’ve got something to attend to in Arendia, father.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘That’s none of your business, Old Man,’ I told him. ‘I’m going
to need a horse. Get me one.’
‘Now look here, Pol -‘
‘Never mind, father. I’ll do it myself.’
‘I want to know what you think you’re going to do in Arendia,
Pol.,
‘Wanting and getting are two different things, father. The Master’s
told me to go to Arendia to fix something. I know the way, so you
won’t have to come along. Now, will you go to the Algars and get
me a horse, or am I going to have to take care of it myself?’
He spluttered a bit, but by midmorning there was a saddled
chestnut mare named Lady waiting for me at the foot of the tower.
Lady was not quite as large as Baron had been, but she and I got
along well.
It was late afternoon before I caught the familiar sense of father’s
presence coming from a few miles behind. Actually, I’d been
wondering what’d been keeping him.
I rode north along the eastern fringes of Ulgoland and then crossed
the Sendarian mountains into Wacite territory with father tailing
along behind me, changing his form every hour or so.
I crossed the upper reaches of the Camaar River and entered the
vast forest of northern Arendia, and it wasn’t too long before I
encountered a Wacite patrol under the command of an obviously
inexperienced young nobleman with an attitude problem. ‘Hold,
wench!’ he commanded haughtily as he and his men came crashing
out of the bushes. Wench? The young man and I weren’t getting off
to a good start here. ‘Wither goest thou?’ he demanded arrogantly.
‘Vo Wacune, my Lord,’ I replied politely.
I want you all to appreciate – and admire – my inhuman self-control
during that incident. I didn’t even once consider turning him into
a toad – well, not very seriously anyway.
‘What is thy business in our fair city?’ he demanded.
‘It is just that, my Lord – my business.’
‘Rise not above thyself, wench. The commons do not speak thus
to their betters. Methinks ’twere best that I take thee into custody,
for thy speech doth proclaim thee alien, and aliens are not welcome
in this realm.’
‘That might explain thy lack of manners and good breeding, surly
boy,’ I said bluntly. ‘Contact with civilized people would possibly
have improved thee, though that is much to hope for.’ I sighed.
‘This is burdensome, but it doth appear that the thankless task of
educating thee in civil usage falleth to me. Attend to my words
most acutely, uncouth knave, for thou shalt discover me to be a
most exacting instructor.’ I gathered in my Will.
He gaped at me. Evidently no one had ever chided him about his
bad manners before. Then he half-turned, obviously intending to
speak sharply to his snickering troops.
‘At the outset I must tell thee that thou must give me thine
undivided attention whilst I am instructing thee,’ I told him coldly.
I was a dozen feet away from him, and there was nothing visible
to account for the ringing blow that took him full in the face. It
wasn’t just a little slap either, and he rocked back in his saddle, his
eyes slightly glazed.
‘Moreover,’ I continued relentlessly, ‘thou shalt henceforth
address me as “my Lady”. Shouldst the term “wench” cross thy
lips once more, I will make certain that thou shalt regret it unto thy
dying day.’ This blow took him straight in the mouth, and it knocked
him out of his saddle. He came up spitting blood and teeth.
‘Have I perchance gained thine attention, knave?’ I asked hin’
pleasantly. Then I murmured ‘sleep’ under my breath, and his eyes
and the eyes of his sniggering men all went absolutely blank. I rode
on with a faint smile, leaving the little group staring at the empty
place where I’d-just been. I left them in stasis for an hour or so, and
by then Lady and I were several miles away. Then I sent my thought
back to the place where they were. ‘Wake up,’ I told them.
They’d not been aware of the fact that they’d been napping, of
course, so it appeared to them that I’d simply vanished. I learned
somewhat later that the rude young noble had entered a monastery
not long after our encounter, and that his men had all deserted and
were nowhere to be found. At least one source of bad manners had
been dried up in the Duchy of Wacune.
The city of Vo Wacune reared its loveliness out of the surrounding
forest, and it absolutely took my breath away. I’ve never seen a city
so beautiful. Vo Astur was almost as grey as Val Alorn, and Vo
Mimbre is yellow. The Mimbrates call it ‘golden’, but that doesn’t
hide the fact that it’s just plain old yellow. Vo Wacune was sheathed
all in marble, even as Tol Honeth is. Tol Honeth, however, strives
for grandeur, while Vo Wacune tried for – and achieved – beauty.
Its slender towers soared white and gleaming toward a sky that
smiled benevolently down on the most beautiful city in the
world.
I paused in the forest to change clothes before I followed the
gently winding road leading to the gates. I put on the blue velvet
gown and cape I’d worn on ceremonial occasions on the Isle of the
Winds, and as an after-thought I added a silver circlet – just to make
the point that the term ‘wench’ wasn’t really appropriate.
The guards at the city gates were civil, and I entered Vo Wacune
with father trailing along behind me trying to look inconspicuous.
My years on the Isle had taught me how to assume a commanding
presence, and I was soon escorted to a large hall where the duke sat
in semi-regal splendor. ‘Your Grace,’ I greeted him with a curtsey, ‘it
is imperative that we speak privately. I must disclose my mind unto