He didn’t want to think about that. “What will you do if somebody comes to the Vale and tries to take Errand away? You won’t be able to protect him, now that-” He faltered to a stop. He had not spoken to her about that.
“Go ahead and say it, Garion,” she said directly. “Let’s look it right in the face. You were going to say now that I no longer have any power.”
“What’s it like, Aunt Pol? Is it like losing something – a sort of emptiness, maybe?”
“I feel the same as always, dear. Of course I haven’t tried to do anything since I agreed to give it up. It might be painful if I tried to make something happen and failed. I don’t think I’d care for the experience, so I simply haven’t tried.” She shrugged. “That part of my life is over, so I’ll just have to put it behind me. Errand will be safe, though. Beldin’s in the Vale – and the twins. That’s enough power in one place to keep away anything that might want to harm him.”
“Why’s Durnik spending so much time with Grandfather?” Garion asked suddenly. “Ever since we got back to Riva, they’ve been together just about every minute they were awake.”
She gave him a knowing smile. “I imagine they’re preparing some surprise for me,” she replied. “Some suitable wedding present. They both tend to be a trifle transparent.”
“What is it?” Garion asked curiously.
“I haven’t the slightest idea – and I wouldn’t dream of trying to find out. Whatever it is, they’ve both worked too hard at it for me to spoil it for them by snooping around.” She glanced at the window where the first light of dawn was appearing. “Perhaps you’d better run along now, dear,” she suggested. “I have to start getting ready. This is a very special day for me, too, and I really want to look my best.”
“You could never look anything less than beautiful, Aunt Pol,” he told her sincerely.
“Why thank you, Garion.” She smiled at him, looking somehow almost girlish. “But I’d rather not take the chance.” She gave him an appraising glance and touched his cheek. “Why don’t you visit the baths, dear,” she suggested, “and wash your hair and get somebody to shave you.”
“I can do that myself, Aunt Pol.”
“That’s not a good idea, Garion. You’re a little nervous today, and you don’t want to put a razor to your face when your hands are trembling.”
He laughed a bit ruefully, kissed her, and started toward the door. Then he stopped and turned back toward her. “I love you, Aunt Pol,” he said simply.
“Yes, dear, I know. I love you, too.”
After he had visited the baths, Garion went looking for Lelldorin. Among the matters that had finally been settled was the marital status of the young Asturian and his semiofficial bride. Ariana had finally despaired of Lelldorin’s ever making the first move on his own and had solved the entire problem by simply moving in with him. She had been quite firm about it. Garion gathered that Lelldorin’s resistance had faded rather quickly. His expression of late had been somewhat more foolish than usual, and Ariana’s had been, although radiant, just a trifle smug. In a peculiar way, they closely resembled Relg and Taiba in that respect. Since his wedding, Relg’s expression had been one of almost perpetual astonishment, while Taiba’s had that same smugness that marked Ariana’s. Garion wondered if he might not awaken tomorrow morning to see that same self satisfied little smirk on Ce’Nedra’s lips.
There was a purpose to Garion’s search for his Asturian friend. As a result of one of Ce’Nedra’s whims, their wedding was going to be followed by a grand ball, and Lelldorin had been teaching Garion how to dance.
The idea of the ball had been greeted with enthusiasm by all the ladies; the men, however, had not been universal in their approval. Barak had been particularly vehement in his objections.
“You want me to get in the middle of the floor and dance?” he had demanded of the princess in an outraged tone of voice. “What’s wrong with all of us just getting drunk? That’s the normal way to celebrate a wedding.”
“You’ll be just fine,” Ce’Nedra had told him, patting his cheek in that infuriating way of hers. “And you will do it, won’t you, Barak – for me?” And she had insincerely fluttered her eyelashes at him.
Barak had stamped away, muttering curses under his breath.
Garion found Lelldorin and Ariana doting on each other across the breakfast table in their rooms.
“Wilt thou take breakfast with us, your Majesty?” Ariana inquired politely.
“Thanks all the same, my Lady,” Garion declined, “but I don’t seem to have much appetite today.”
“Nerves,” Lelldorin observed sagely.
“I think I’ve got most of it,” Garion rushed to the core of his problem, “but that crossover baffles me. My feet keep getting all tangled up.”
Lelldorin immediately fetched a lute, and with Ariana’s help, walked Garion through the complex procedure.
“Thou art becoming most skilled, your Majesty,” Ariana complimented him at the end of the lesson.
“All I want to do is get through it without tripping and falling on my face in public.”
“The princess would surely support thee, shouldst thou stumble.”
“I’m not sure about that. She might enjoy watching me make a fool of myself.”
“How little thou knowest of women.” Ariana gave Lelldorin an adoring look – a look he fatuously returned.
“Will you two stop that?” Garion demanded irritably. “Can’t you wait until you’re alone to carry on that way?”
“My heart is too full of love for me to hide it, Garion,” Lelldorin said extravagantly.
“So I’ve noticed,” Garion said dryly. “I’ve got to go see Silk, so I’ll leave you two to your amusements.”
Ariana blushed, then smiled. “Might we take that as a royal command, your Majesty?” she asked archly.
Garion fled.
Silk had arrived from the east late the previous evening, and Garion was anxious for news. He found the little Drasnian lingering over a breakfast of partridge and hot, spiced wine.
“Isn’t that a little heavy for breakfast?” Garion asked him.
“I’ve never been that partial to gruel first thing in the morning,” Silk replied. “Gruel’s the sort of thing a man has to work himself up to.”
Garion went directly to the point. “What’s happening in Cthol Murgos?”
“‘Zakath is still laying siege to Rak Goska,” Silk reported. “He’s transporting in more troops, though. It’s pretty obvious that he’s going to strike into southern Cthol Murgos as soon as the ground’s firm enough to move an army.”
“Are the Thulls with him?”
“Only a few. Most of them are concentrating on finding the few Grolims left in their kingdom. I always thought Thulls were a stupid people, but you’d be amazed at how creative they can be when it comes to finding new and interesting ways for Grolims to die.”
“We’re going to have to keep an eye on ‘Zakath,” Garion said. “I wouldn’t want him to come creeping up on me from the south.”
“I think you can count on him not to creep,” Silk said. “He sent you a message of congratulations, incidentally.”
“He did what?”
“He’s a civilized man, Garion – and a politician. He was badly shaken by the fact that you killed Torak. I think he’s actually afraid of you, so he wants to stay on your good side – at least until he finishes up in southern Cthol Murgos.”
“Who’s in command of the Murgos, now that Taur Urgas is dead?”
“Urgit, his third son by his second wife. There was the usual squabble over the succession by the various sons of Taur Urgas’s assorted wives. The fatalities were numerous, I understand.”
“What kind of man is Urgit?”
“He’s a schemer. I don’t think he’s any match for ‘Zakath, but he’ll keep the Malloreans busy for ten or twenty years. By then, ‘Zakath may be too old and tired of war to give you any problems.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Hettar married your cousin last week.”
“Adara? I thought she was ill.”
“Not that much, apparently. They’re coming to your wedding along with Cho-Hag and Silar.”
“Is everybody getting married?”
Silk laughed. “Not me, my young friend. In spite of this universal plunge toward matrimony, I still haven’t lost my senses. If worse comes to worst, I still know how to run. The Algars should arrive sometime this morning. They met Korodullin’s entourage, and they’re all coming together. Their ship was right behind mine when we left Camaar.”
“Was Mandorallen with them?”
Silk nodded. “Along with the Baroness of Vo Ebor. The Baron’s still much too ill to travel. I think he’s hoping that he’ll die, to leave the way clear for his wife and Mandorallen.”
Garion sighed.
“Don’t let it make you unhappy, Garion,” Silk advised. “Arends actually enjoy that kind of misery. Mandorallen’s perfectly content to suffer nobly.”