POLGARA THE SORCERESS BY DAVID EDDINGS

This was going too far, and I decided at that point to ‘take steps’.

‘No, Pol,’ mother’s voice murmured. ‘Stay out of it.’

‘But -‘

‘Do as I say!’ Mother almost never took that tone, and it got my

immediate attention. I relaxed my gathering Will.

‘That’s better,’ she said.

As it turned out, Ontrose didn’t really need any help from me.

Baron Lathan appeared to be so wrought up that his skill deserted

him on the third pass. He seemed to be so intent on destroying his

opponent that he forgot to brace his shield properly, and Count

Ontrose neatly picked him out of his saddle with that long lance of

his and hurled him to the ground with a resounding crash.

‘No!’ The fallen knight howled, and his voice was a wail of regret

and unspeakable loss.

Count Ontrose reined in sharply, swung down from his saddle,

and rushed to his friend. ‘Art thou injured?’ he demanded, kneeling

at Lathan’s side. ‘Have I harmed thee?’

I didn’t exactly disobey mother, but I did send a quick, probing

thought at the fallen baron. He was gasping, but that would have

been quite normal. Being unhorsed in a jousting match almost

always knocks the wind out of a man.

Then the physicians reached the pair, and they seemed greatly

concerned. Baron Lathan had taken a very nasty fall, and the steel

armor in which he was encased was so dented in on the left side

of his chest that he could scarcely breathe. Once the physicians had

pried him out of his armor, however, his breathing became normal,

and he even congratulated Ontrose on his victory. Then the

physicians carted him off to the dispensary.

Count Ontrose remounted his war-horse and rode over to claim

his prize – me, in this case. He lowered his lance to me, and. in

keeping with tradition, I tied a flimsy blue scarf about its tip as a

visible sign of my ‘favor’. ‘Now art thou my true knight,’ I declaimed

in formal tones.

‘I thank thee, your Grace,’ he replied in a musical baritone, ‘and

I do hereby pledge unto thee my life and undying devotion.’

I thought that was terribly nice of him.

ontrose, now ‘the mightiest knight of life,’ was one of those rare

people who excelled at everything he put his hand to. He was a

philosopher a rose fancier, a poet, and a lutanist of the first

magnitude

. His manners were exquisite, but he was a complete terror in

the jousting lists. Not only that, he was absolutely gorgeous! He was

tall, slimly muscular, and his features might have served as a model

for a statue. His skin was very fair, but, as I mentioned before, his

long hair was lustrous blue-black. His large expressive eyes were a

deep sapphire blue, and a whole generation of young Arendish

ladies cried themselves to sleep over him every night for a goodly

number of years.

And now he was mine.

There was a formal investiture after the tourney, of course. Arends

love ceremonies. The three dukes, dressed in semi-regal finery,

escorted the hero into my presence and formally asked me if this

beautiful young man was acceptable to me. What an absurd question

that was. I recited the formulaic little speech that enrolled Count

Ontrose as my champion, and then he knelt to swear undying

allegiance to me, offering up the ‘might of his hands’ in my defense. It

wasn’t really his hands that interested me, though.

Baron Lathan was in attendance with his left arm in a sling. His

unhorsing had severely sprained his shoulder. His face was very

pale, and there were even tears of disappointment in his eyes during

the ceremony. Some competitors simply cannot bear to lose. He once

again formally congratulated Ontrose, which I thought was very

civilized of him. There have been times in Arendia when the loser

of a jousting match has declared war on the winner. Lathan and

Ontrose had been friends, and that evidently hadn’t changed.

We lingered for a time at the fair, and then returned to Vo Wacune,

where Ontrose took up residence in my town house.

As autumn touched the leaves, my champion and I rode north so

that I could familiarize him with the peculiarities of the duchy of

Erat.

‘I have been advised, your Grace, that serfdom doth no longer

Prevail within thy boundaries, and I do confess that I have been

much intrigued by that fact. The emancipation of they who stand

or grovel – at the lowest level of society is an act of sublime

humanitY, but I am hard put to understand how it is that the economy of

this duchy hath not collapsed. Prithee, enlighten me concerning this

wonder.’

I wasn’t entirely certain if his education had descended into the

labyrinthine sphere of economics, but I tried to explain just how it

was that my duchy prospered without serfdom. I was startled – and

pleased – by how quickly he grasped certain concepts that had taken

me whole generations to pound into the thick heads of my vassals.

‘In fine then, my Lady, it seemeth to me that thy realm doth still

rest upon the backs of the former serfs – not in this case upon their

unrequited labor, but rather upon their wages. For certes, now can

they purchase such goods as previously were beyond them quite.

The merchant class prospers, and their share of the tax burden

doth lighten the load borne by the land-owners, thy vassals. The

prosperity of the former serf is the base upon which the economy

of the entire realm doth stand.’

‘Ontrose,’ I told him, ‘you’re a treasure. You grasped in moments

what’s eluded some of my vassals for six hundred years.’

He shrugged. ‘It is no more than simple mathematics, your Grace,’

he replied. ‘An ounce apiece from the many doth far exceed a pound

apiece from the few.’

‘Nicely put, Ontrose.’

‘I rather liked it,’ he agreed modestly.

We talked of many things on our journey north, and I found my

young – well, relatively young – champion to have a quick and agile

mind. He also had an uncharacteristic urbanity that reminded me

a great deal of my dear friend Kamion back on the Isle of the Winds.

He was suitably impressed by my manor house, and he had the

uncommon good sense to make friends with my Killane-descended

retainers. Moreover, his enthusiasm for roses at least equaled rny

own. His conversation was a delight, his impromptu concerts on

his lute – often accompanied by his rich baritone – brought tears to

my eyes, and his ability to grasp – and question – obscure

philosophical

issues sometimes astounded me.

I found myself beginning to have thoughts I probably shouldn’

have had. In my mind, Ontrose was becoming more than a friend

That’s when mother stepped in. ‘Polgara,’ her voice came to me one

night, ‘this isn’t really appropriate, you know.’

‘What isn’t?’ My response wasn’t really very gracious.

‘This growing infatuation of yours. This isn’t the man for you. That

part of your life is still a long way in the future.’

‘No, mother, it’s not. What you choose to call that part of my

will come whenever I decide it’s going to

come, and there’s nothing you or anybody else can do to change my

mind. I’m tired of being

lead around on a string. It’s my life, and I’ll live it any way I choose.

‘I’m trying to spare you a great deal of heartache, Pol.’

‘Don’t bother, mother. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some

sleep.

‘As YOU wish, Pol.’ And then the sense of her presence was gone.

Well, of course it was rude. I realized that even as I was saying it.

That particular confrontation crops up in just about everyone’s life.

It usually comes a bit earlier, however.

By morning, I was more than a little ashamed of myself, and as time

went on I regretted my childish reaction more and more. Mother’s

presence had always been the central fact of my life, and my little

outburst had erected a wall between us that took years to tear down.

I won’t demean what I felt for Ontrose by calling it an infatuation.

I will admit that what was happening in my personal life distracted

my attention from something I was supposed to be watching more

closely, however. The second Carteon had been succeeded by yet a

third in Asturia. Carteon III was an even bigger scoundrel than his

father or grandfather had been, and most of his animosity seemed

to be directed at Wacune. It was fairly obvious that there were

close ties between Wacune and Erat, and the Oriman family had

apparently concluded that my duchy could not survive without

Wacite support. The Asturian animosity toward me personally

wasn’t really too hard to understand, and it probably dated back to

the time of Duke Nerasin. I had made examples of a fair number of

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