just how stringent are the rules of evidence here in Vo Wacune?’
‘Rules of evidence?’
‘How far will you have to go to prove that the Tolnedran’s a
knave?’
He laughed. ‘Thou art unschooled in Arendish customs, I see,’ he
said. ‘We are Arends, Polgara. Evidence and proof are quite beyond
our capabilities. I rule here by decree. If I say that a man’s a villain,
then he’s a villain, and he takes up immediate residence in my
dungeon. Our nature is such that we must keep things simple.’
‘How terribly convenient. I need further information, however.
Have him picked up, if you would, please. There are some questions
I’d like to ask him before he takes up residence down in the cellar.
I want to know just exactly how widespread this plot is before I go
on to VO Astur and Vo Mimbre.’
‘Wilt thou require the services of a professional interrogator?’
‘A torturer, you mean? No, Kathandrion. There are other ways to
get the truth out of people. Once I know the full extent of Ctuchik’s
scheme, I should be able to spoke his wheel.’
‘Hast thou ever met this miscreant Ctuchik?’
‘Not yet, your Grace,’ I said bleakly. ‘I expect it’s coming, though,
and I’m rather looking forward to it. Shall we go now?’
I paused momentarily at the door to look critically at the hound
sprawled just outside in the hallway. ‘All right, father,’ I said. ‘You
can go home now. I can manage here quite well without you.’
He even managed to look a little guilty.
*CHAPTER 13
The more I came to know the Arendish people, the more I
appreciated Kathandrion. Whole volumes have been devoted to a
misconception about the nature of Arends. The ongoing disaster men call
Arendia is not so much the result of congenital stupidity as it is a
combination of blind impulsiveness, an irresistible urge toward high
drama, and an inability to back away from a course of action once
it’s been embarked upon. At least Kathandrion was willing to listen
for a moment before he plunged into something. His first impulse
in this case, naturally, was to have Ctuchik’s underling seized and
dragged in chains through the streets of Vo Wacune – probably at
high noon. He was right on the verge of issuing orders to that effect
as we proceeded down the corridor to his throne room.
‘Kathandrion,’ I suggested gently, ‘we’re dealing with a
conspiracy here. Do we really want to alert all the other conspirators
with a public display?’
He looked quickly at me. ‘Not too bright an idea, right?’ he
suggested.
‘I’ve heard better.’
‘One of these days I’ll have to learn to think my way through a
notion before I start issuing commands,’ he said.
‘I would, if I were you.’
‘I’ll work on it. How would you approach this matter?’
‘Lie a little bit. Send a note to Haldon asking him to stop by at
his convenience for a bit of private conversation.’
‘What if he doesn’t find it convenient until some time next week?’
‘He’ll be here almost immediately, Kathandrion. Trust me. I’ve
done this sort of thing before. He’ll take that “at your convenience”
to mean just as soon as he gets his clothes on. There are many
ways to use power, Kathandrion. A light touch is far better than a
sledge-hammer.’
‘What a novel thing to suggest. This is Arendia, Polgara.
Commands here must be delivered in short, easy-to-understand
language, preferably in word’ s of one syllable or less.’
I found myself growing fonder of Duke Kathandrion by the
moment. The invitation he dictated to a scribe when we returned
to the throne room was artfully innocuous, and, as I’d predicted,
Haldon arrived within the hour.
Evening was settling over the fairy-tale city of Vo Wacune as
Kathandrion escorted our guest to a room conveniently located near
the head of the stairs leading down to the dungeon. There was but
a single lamp in the room, and I sat in a chair with a high back and
facing the window. Thus, I was to all intents and purposes invisible.
I carefully sent out my thought as the two of them entered, and
the color I encountered didn’t have that characteristic red overtone
that would have identified the merchant as Tolnedran, but was dull
black instead. The man known as Haldon was a Murgo. I could see
his reflection in the glass of the window, and his features had none
of the characteristics of the Angarak race. That explained quite a
bit.
‘It was good of thee to come by on such short notice, worthy
Haldon,’ Kathandrion was saying.
‘I am ever at your Grace’s call,’ the green-mantled fellow replied,
bowing.
‘Prithee, sit, my friend. We are alone, so there is no need for
ceremony.’ Kathandrion paused artfully. ‘It hath recently been
proposed to me that some commercial advantage might accrue to the
Duchy of Wacune were I to command some port facilities
constructed on the southern bank of the Camaar River within the
boundaries of my realm, and it seemed me that thou wert best qualified
to evaluate the notion. Would such facilities indeed enhance trade
between Wacune and the empire?’
‘Indeed they would, your Grace!’ the imitation Tolnedran replied
enthusiastically. ‘The emperor himself has frequently expressed
interest in just such a project.’
‘Splendid!’ Kathandrion said. ‘Capital! In view of our forthcoming
alliance, might I prevail upon thee to suggest to thine emperor a
sharing of the cost of construction of those facilities?’
‘I’m certain that the emperor would look most favorably upon
such a proposal.’
A Tolnedran of any rank willing to spend money? That idea in
itself would have been enough to expose the so-called Haldon as a
fraud.
I’d suggested to the duke that he engage our suspect in some
frivolous discussion of a spurious topic to put him off his guard’.
In reality, I needed but a moment or two to touch Haldon’s mind
to confirm his racial background. The ‘port facility’ myth was of
Kathandrion’s own devising, and it confirmed my earlier evaluation
of his intelligence.
I let them ramble on for a while, and then I rose from my chair
and stepped into the lamplight. ‘I hate to interrupt such pleasant
discourse, gentlemen,’ I told them, ‘but we have far to go before
dawn, so perhaps we’d better move right along.’ Neither Arends
nor Murgos are accustomed to having women intrude in state
matters. so I think my crisp interruption startled them both.
The Murgo looked sharply at me, and his face went deathly pale.
‘You!’ he gasped.
That was the first time my presence had ever gotten that reaction.
I was looking at him curiously. ‘How ever did you manage to
alter your features, Haldon?’ I asked him. ‘You don’t look the least
bit like an Angarak. Did Ctuchik do that to you? It must have been
extremely painful.’
His eyes went wary. ‘I’m sorry, madame,’ he said, recovering
quickly. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about.’
Are we actually going to play that tiresome game all the way out
to its inevitable conclusion?’ I asked him. ‘How tedious.’ Even as I
spoke, I gently probed into the darkest corners of the imitation
Tolnedran’s mind, and I was somewhat surprised to discover that
the thing he feared most in all the world was my father! I hadn’t
expected that, but I realized that it might make the rest of this
business quite a bit easier than I’d expected.
‘It seemeth me that much is transpiring here that I do not
understand,’ Kathandrion admitted, looking baffled.
‘It’s really quite simple, your Grace,’ I told him. ‘This gentleman
who’s been calling himself “Haldon” is actually a Murgo, whose
real name is quite probably unpronounceable. Does that help to
clarify things?’
‘But he doth not look like a Murgo, my Lady.’
‘Yes, I noticed that. We’ll have to ask him how he managed it.’
‘She lies!’ our Murgo snarled.
‘That is most unlikely,’ Kathandrion replied in a chill tone. Then
he looked at me. ‘It doth appear that he knows of thee, my Lady.’
‘Yes,’I agreed. ‘Evidently Ctuchik warned him about me.’ I looked
sternly at our guest. ‘Now we come to the more unpleasant part of
the evening, I’m afraid,’ I said with feigned regret. ‘Would you
prefer to tell us everything you know about your master’s scheme
right here and now? Or am I going to have to persuade you? You
are going to tell me what I want to know – eventually. We can do
it either way; it’s up to you.’
His eyes went flat and were suddenly filled with hatred. ‘Do your
worst, witch-woman,’ he said defiantly. ‘I am a Dagashi, and I can
withstand any torment you can devise.’
‘I’m so happy that you’ve dropped that tiresome masquerade,’ I
said. ‘Oh, by the way, let me relieve you of that knife you’ve got
hidden down the back of your mantle. We’d be so disappointed if