POLGARA THE SORCERESS BY DAVID EDDINGS

dukes was a rat-like little fellow who thought he was clever. His

name was Carteon, and he began find excuses not to attend the

meetings of the Arendish Council. After the third year marked by

his absence, I decided to go have a talk with him. My champion at

that particular time was one of my own barons, a huge man of

Alorn background named Torgun. We rode on down to Vo Astur,

and Baron Torgun let it be known that he’d dismantle large numbers

of people if I were not immediately escorted into Duke Garteon’s

presence. Alorns can be useful at times.

The unctuous little Carteon greeted me with a oily smile and fell

all over himself apologizing for his repeated absences.

Have you by chance heard of “Nerasin’s complaint”, your

Grace?’ I cut him off. ‘You show all the symptoms of an onset of

the disease to me, and I am a trained physician, so I recognize all

kinds of illnesses. I’d strongly advise you to make a special point

of attending the council meeting next summer. Duke Nerasin found

squirming around on the floor while he squealed and vomited up

blood to be terribly inconvenient.’

Garteon’s face went very pale. ‘I’ll be there, Lady Polgara,’ he

promised. Evidently Nerasin’s tummy-ache had entered the body

of Asturian folk-lore.

‘We’ll be expecting you then,’ I said quite firmly. Then Baron

Torgun and I left Vo Astur.

You should have let me split him down the middle, my Lady,’

Torgun growled as we rode away.

‘We’re supposed to be civilized, Baron,’ I replied. ‘Civilized people

don’t hack up their neighbors. I think Carteon got my message. If

he doesn’t show up at the meeting next summer, I might have to

be a bit more firm the next time he and I have one of these little chats.’

‘Can you really do that?’ Torgun asked curiously. ‘I mean, can

you actually make a man start throwing up blood?’

‘If I need to, yes.’

‘What do you need me for, then?’

‘For the pleasure of your companionship, my dear Torgun. Let’s

move right along, shall we? It’s almost harvest time, so there are all

kinds of things that need my attention.’

cil, and I think that made the chore of keeping the peace even easier.

Toward the end of the century, however, the Oriman family came

into power in Asturia, and the relations between the four duchies

became strained. The Orimans were greedy, ambitious and devoid

of anything remotely resembling scruples. The first of the Oriman His son, also named Carteon,

was probably an even greater

scoundrel than his father. Asturia was

getting to be a problem.

We entered the thirtieth century, and I realized that I’d been

manipulating Arendish affairs for almost six hundred years. I rather

enjoyed it, actually. The Arends were much like children in many

ways, and they’d come to look upon me as a wise parent to whom

they brought most of their problems. More importantly, maybe, was

the fact that they checked with me before they put anything major

in motion. I was able to head off all sorts of potential disasters

because of that.

It was in the spring of 2937 that I advised my co-rulers that

Torgun,s

successor as my champion, a Mimbrate knight named

Anclasin, was getting along in years and that his hearing was

beginning to fail. Moreover, he had a number of grandchildren down

in Mimbre, and he really wanted to spend more time with them.

Parenthood is nice, but grandparenthood is golden.

This, of course, added a certain excitement to the annual tourney

at the Great Fair that summer. The winner, always referred to as

‘the mightiest knight of life,’ would be rewarded with the dubious

pleasure of living under my thumb for the next several decades.

I arrived at the fair a few days early that summer, and my

seneschal, one of Killane’s descendants, nosed about and brought me

some rather disturbing news. It seemed that an enterprising

Drasnian merchant was accepting wagers on the outcome of the

tournaments. Now, if someone wants to waste his money on gambling,

that’s none of my concern. What I didn’t want was for someone to

start tampering with the various events in order to determine the

winner in advance. I spoke rather pointedly with the Drasnian,

laying down a few rules for him to follow in his venture. The rules

were fairly simple. No bribes. No tampering with equipment. No

introduction of exotic herbs into the diets of contestants or of their

horses. The Drasnian entrepreneur’s expression was a little pained

when he left my pavilion. Quite obviously, he’d had some plans

that I’d just disrupted.

A formal tournament can be viewed as a kind of refinery where

the slag is boiled away and only the true gold is left behind. That’s

probably a very offensive metaphor to those who end up on the

slag-heap, but life is hard sometimes, I guess. The winnowing-down

process went on for several weeks, and eventually there were only

two contenders left, a pair of Wacite noblemen, Lathan and Ontrose,

who’d been boyhood friends of Duke Andrion. Baron Lathan was

a big, boisterous fellow with dark blond hair, and Count Ontrose

was a more studious and polished man with black hair and deep

blue eyes. I’d known the both of them since they were children, and

I was really quite fond of them. Frankly, I was a bit surprised that

the cultured Count Ontrose had advanced so far in a competition

that was largely based on brute strength.

The final jousting match took place on a breezy summer morning

when white puffy clouds were skipping like lambs across their blue

pasture. The spectators were all gathered around the lists and were

beginning to grow restive until an extended trumpet fanfare

announced that the ‘entertainment’ was about to begin. I was seated

on a regal throne flanked by Andrion of Wacune, Garteon of Asturia,

and the aged Moratham of Mimbre when the pair of friends, all

clad in gleaming armor and with pennons snapping from the tips

of their lances, rode forth to receive my blessing and instruction.

They reined in side by side and dipped their lances to me in salute.

That sort of thing can go to a girl’s head if she doesn’t keep a firm

grip on herself.

MY ‘instruction’ was suitably flowery, but my conclusion had some

un-flowery practicality to it. ‘Don’t hurt each other,’ I commanded

them.

Their expressions at that point were a study in contrasts. Count

Ontrose, far and away the more handsome of the two, wore a look

of civilized adoration. Baron Lathan, on the other hand, seemed so

caught up with emotion that his features were almost distorted.

There were tears in his eyes as he looked at me.

Then, with a final flourish, the armored pair posted formally to

opposite ends of the lists to do battle upon each other. The ‘list’ in

a formal joust consists of a stout waist-high rail designed, I think,

to keep the horses from being injured during the festivities. A joust

is a simple game, really. Each knight attempts to knock his opponent

off his horse with a blunted twenty-foot lance. Draws are not

infrequent, and in the event that both knights are sent crashing to

the ground, they both get up, get back on their horses, and try it

again. It’s a very noisy affair that usually provides many business

opportunities for the local bone-setter.

At the traditional signaling horn call, they both clapped down

their visors, lowered their lances and charged, thundering down the

lists toward each other. Their lances both struck true against those

stout shields, and as usual, both lances shattered, filling the air with

Splinters. The jousts at a formal tourney can seriously deplete the

supply of trees in a nearby forest.

They both wheeled and rode back to their original starting point.

Ontrose was laughing gaily but Lathan was glaring at his friend

with a look of competitive belligerence. Baron Lathan seemed to be

missing the point here. A jousting match is supposed to be a sporting

event, not a duel to the death. In previous tourneys, I’d been

moderately indifferent about the outcome but this time was somehow

different. My ‘knights protectors’ in the past had not really loomed

very large in my life. They’d been no more than appurtenances to

mY station. I had an uneasy feeling this time that should Baron

Lathan be the victor, he’d cause difficulties later on. Arendish

literature Positively swarms with improprieties involving high-born

ladies and their bodyguards and Lathan seemed to be well-read.

Should he happen to win. he’d clearly cause some problems. My

impartiality started to slip just a bit.

The second pass with lances proved to be no more decisive than

the first, and when the contestants rode back to take their places for

the third, Lathan’s look of open belligerence had become even more

pronounced.

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