The Murgo in the yellow Tolnedran mantle stood at the befuddled
duke’s right elbow with a slightly bored expression on his face. His
eyes. however, were moving constantly. I couldn’t see Lammer up
in that shadowy gallery, but I wasn’t really supposed to. I sent out
a quick, searching thought, and then I relaxed. Lammer was where
he was supposed to be. The giddy Asrana was not far from the
throne, and she absolutely sparkled. The tension of the moment had
made her even more vivacious than usual.
Everything was in its proper place. We were ready.
I stepped into the doorway and paused, looking directly at the
fellow in the Tolnedran mantle at the duke’s side. Krachack had
known me the instant he’d laid eyes on me, and I was hoping that
this Murgo would as well.
Then, while his eyes were still starting out of their sockets, I went
on into the plain view of everybody in the room. My gown had
been designed to attract attention, and it still worked. Heads
swivelled. People broke off what they were saying in mid-sentence to
stare at me. Lammer’s bow-string twanged.
The steel-tipped arrow made a crunching sound as it drove
directly into the Murgo’s forehead. The distance wasn’t really that
great, and Lammer’s bow had strong limbs. The arrow plunged
through the Murgo’s brain, and it protruded a foot or more
Out behind his head. He did look just a bit peculiar with the
feathered fletching of the arrow decorating his forehead. His
body stiffened as he jerked into an erect position.
‘Assassin!’ I shouted, augmenting my voice so that the sentries on
the city wall probably heard me. ‘Get the duke to safety!’
And that’s how I overthrew the government of Asturia. One arrow,
one shout, and it was done. The good ones are always simple.
Even as that pseudo Tolnedran slowly toppled backward, Mangaran
was moving. ‘To the duke!’ he bellowed. ‘Shield him with your
bodies!’
At first the startled courtiers hung back. There was always the
possibility of more arrows. and very few in the room were that fond
of Oldoran. But Mangaran had already hurled his own body on that
of the confused duke, and others rushed forward to join him. Other
courtiers were drawing their swords and looking around for
somebody to stab.
Asrana was screaming in a masterful imitation of hysteria.
I moved quickly around the outskirts of the crowd to the door
behind the throne. ‘This way, my Lord Mangaran!’ I shouted. ‘Bring
the duke! The rest of you, guard this door! There’s treason afoot!’ I
wanted to nail that down.
Then I cast a hideous illusion directly in front of the stupefied
Oldoran’s bleary eyes, and he was the only one who could see it.
He began to scream and gibber in absolute terror, even as several
courtiers picked him up bodily and followed Earl Mangaran to the
doorway where I stood. I intensified the illusion before the duke’s
eyes, and his screaming grew even louder as he struggled to free
himself. I definitely wanted that screaming to continue.
‘Should I make the announcement?’ Mangaran muttered to me
as he led the little cluster of men carrying the duke through the
door.
‘Not yet,’ I replied quietly. ‘Let him scream for a while. I’ll be
along in a few moments to examine him.’ I let them on through the
doorway and then firmly shut the door and set my back against it.
‘Find that assassin!’ I commanded. ‘Hunt him down!’
That gave everyone who wasn’t busy guarding the door
something to do. A quick search with my mind had revealed the fact
that Lammer had already left the palace grounds and was sitting
in a tavern several streets away. The searchers did find his bow and
a quiver of arrows up in the gallery, however. Lammer, I noted,
was a thoroughgoing professional.
Not everyone in the throne-room joined in that disorganized search
for the mysterious bowman, though. About a half-dozen
distraughtlooking Asturian nobles were gathered around the dead Murgo’S
body. Some of them were even wringing their hands, and one was
openly weeping. I caught Asrana’s eye and crooked one finger at
her.
She came to me immediately. ‘Yes, Polly?’ she said.
,Wipe that silly grin off your face, Asrana,’ I told her, and I didn’t
say it out loud.
‘How are you -? ‘ she started.
,Hush! Listen, don’t talk. Fix the names of those men around the body
by the throne firmly in your mind. Those are the ones we’ll have to watch
out for.’ Then I spoke aloud to her – just loud enough to be heard
by the courtiers guarding the door. ‘Calm yourself, dear,’ I told her.
‘The duke’s safe, and the Earl Mangaran’s with him.’
‘Did he get hurt?’ she asked, wincing as Oldoran gave vent to a
particularly piercing shriek.
‘He’s distraught, Asrana. The shock of this attempt on his life has
unsettled him just a bit, I think. Here. Take my place. If anyone tries
to rush this door, give up your life to hold them off.’
She lifted her chin and assumed a heroic pose. ‘I will!’ she declared.
‘They’ll have to rip me to pieces and spill out all my blood. They
will not pass!’
‘Brave girl,’ I murmured. Then I opened the door and went into
the small antechamber where the duke was busy having hysterics.
I drew Mangaran off to one side. ‘All right, my Lord,’ I murmured
softly to him. ‘Part one is over. Now it’s time to move on to part
two.’
‘Do you have any other surprises up your sleeve, Polgara?’ he
murmured in reply. ‘I almost lost my grip when that Murgo’s
forehead sprouted feathers.’
‘I rather thought you might like it. I’m going to examine the duke,
and my diagnosis is going to be that he’s temporarily lost control
of his senses.’
‘Temporarily?’
‘That’s an interim diagnosis, Mangaran. It’ll serve as an excuse
for us to transport him to the monastery. We’ll pull long faces and
talk about lingering after effects later. You’re going to have to
identify me when you make your announcement, my Lord. Introduce
me, and I’ll advise the courtiers of my findings. My name’s known
Well enough that nobody’s going to argue with me. I’ll tell them
that the duke needs a safe place for his recovery, and then you
suggest the monastery. It’s a logical place – peace, quiet, security,
and lots of monks around to see to his needs. We’d better get on
with this, Earl Mangaran. I want him inside that monastery before
I pretended to think about it. ‘It might serve our purposes.’ I didn’t
want to sound too enthusiastic.
‘And who will assume his Grace’s duties during his recovery?’
one of our ‘patriots’ demanded.
Asrana stepped forward. ‘I’m just a silly woman,’ she said, ‘but
it seems to me that someone already has. Earl Mangaran seems
to have everything under control. Since he’s volunteered, why
don’t we let him take care of things during the duke’s temporary
incapacity?’
‘Yes,’ an elderly noble, also one of our cohorts, agreed. ‘Mangaran
will do nicely, I think. The Privy Council may want to discuss the
matter, but in the interim, I’d suggest that the earl should continue
to make decisions. We do have the Wacites on our eastern frontier,
after all, so we don’t want any signs of division or weakness to
encourage them to attack.’
Mangaran sighed. ‘If it is the will of the court -‘He even managed
to sound reluctant.
The still gibbering duke was hustled into a carriage for his triv
to the monastery an hour or so before the party at the Marquis
Torandin’s house broke up. We left the Murgo’s body where it had
fallen to help persuade the returning party-goers that there really
had been an assassination attempt, and with only a few exceptions
the courtiers all agreed that Mangaran should continue to stand in
Oldoran’s stead.
It was almost dawn by the time I fell into bed to snatch a couple
of hours sleep.
‘Interstitial conjunctive morbialis?’ father’s voice asked mildly.
‘What’s that, Pol?’
‘It’s very rare, father.’
‘It must be. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it before.’
‘Probably not. This is the first case I’ve ever seen. Go away, Old Man.
Let me get some sleep. I’ll call you when it’s time for you to make your
speech.’
Our coup had gone off quite smoothly. Such opposition as there
was had been thrown into total disarray by the speed at which we
had moved, and the sudden appearance in the throne-room of the
legendary Belgarath the Sorcerer about mid-morning of the day
following our little coup more or less set our arrangements in stone.
Father, always a performer, strode into the throne room garbed in
an almost incandescent white robe. He carried a staff, which the
gullible Asturians assumed could be used to fell vast forests, blow
the tops off mountains, and turn whole generations into regiments