Castle of Wizardry (54 page)

"I will, Sir Mandorallen," Andorig responded.

"How's your apple tree doing, Andorig?" Barak asked, grinning openly.

"It doth flourish, my Lord of Trellheim," Andorig answered proudly. "My care for it hath been most tender, and I have hopes of a bounteous harvest. I am confident that I have not disappointed Holy Belgarath." He turned and clattered back down the hill, sounding his horn every hundred yards or so.

"What was that all about?" King Anheg asked his red-bearded cousin with a puzzled frown.

"We've been here before," Barak replied. "Andorig didn't believe us when we told him who Belgarath was. Belgarath made an apple tree grow up out of the stones of the courtyard, and that sort of convinced him."

"I pray thee," Mandorallen said then, his eyes clouded with a sudden pain. "I see the approach of dear friends. I shall return presently." He moved his horse at a canter toward a knight and a lady who were riding out from the city.

"Good man there," Rhodar mused, watching the great knight as he departed. "But why do I get the feeling that when I'm talking to him my words are bouncing off solid bone?"

"Mandorallen is my knight," Ce'Nedra quickly came to the defense of her champion. "He doesn't need to think. I'll do his thinking for him." She stopped suddenly. "Oh dear," she said. "That sounds dreadful, doesn't it?"

King Rhodar laughed. "You're a treasure, Ce'Nedra," he said fondly, "but you do tend to blurt things out on occasion."

"Who are those people?" Ce'Nedra asked, curiously watching as Mandorallen rode to meet the couple who had emerged from the gates of Vo Mimbre.

"That's the Baron of
Vo
Ebor," Durnik replied quietly, "and his wife, the Baroness Nerina. Mandorallen's in love with her."

"What?"

"It's all very proper," Durnik assured her quickly. "I didn't understand it at first myself, but I guess it's the sort of thing that happens here in Arendia. It's a tragedy, of course. All three of them are suffering terribly." The good man sighed.

"Oh dear," Ce'Nedra said, biting her lip. "I didn't know - and I've treated him so badly at times."

"I'm sure he'll forgive you, princess," Durnik told her. "He has a very great heart."

A short time later, King Korodullin rode out from the city, accompanied by Mandorallen and a score of armored knights. Ce'Nedra had met the young King of Arendia several years before, and she remembered him as a pale, thin young man with a beautiful voice. On this occasion he was dressed in full armor and a crimson surcoat. He raised his visor as he approached. "Your Majesty," he greeted her gravely, "we have awaited thy coming with great anticipation."

"Your Majesty is too kind," Ce'Nedra replied.

"We have marvelled at the stories of thy mobilization of our Asturian cousins," the king told her. "Throe oratory must be wondrously persuasive to move them to lay aside their customary enmities."

"The day wears on, your Majesty," King Rhodar observed. "Her Majesty would like to address your knights - with your permission, of course. Once you've heard her, I think you'll understand her value to our cause."

"At once, your Majesty," Korodullin agreed. He turned to one of his men. "Assemble the knights and men-at-arms of Mimbre that the Rivan Queen may disclose her mind to them," he commanded.

The army which had followed Ce'Nedra down through the plains of Arendia had begun to arrive and was flowing down onto the plain before the city in a vast multitude.
Drawn up to meet that force stood the glittering Mimbrate knights.
The air crackled with suspicion as the two groups eyed each other.

"I think we'd better move right along," King Cho-Hag suggested. "An accidental remark out there could precipitate some unpleasantness we'd all prefer to avoid."

Ce'Nedra had already begun to feel sick to her stomach. The feeling by now, however, was so familiar that it no longer even worried her. A platform had been erected on a spot that stood midway between Ce'Nedra's army and the armored knights of King Korodullin. The princess, accompanied by all her friends and the Mimbrate honor guard, rode down to the platform, where she nervously dismounted.

"Feel free to speak at length, Ce'Nedra," Lady Polgara quietly advised. "Mimbrates dote on ceremony and they're as patient as stones if you give them something formal to watch. It's about two hours until sunset. Try to time the climax of your speech to coincide with that."

Ce'Nedra gasped. "Two hours?"

"If you need longer, we can build bonfires," Durnik offered helpfully.

"Two hours ought to be about right," Lady Polgara surmised.

Ce'Nedra quickly began mentally revising her speech. "You'll make sure they can all hear me?" she asked Polgara.

"I'll take care of it, dear."

Ce'Nedra drew in a deep breath. "All right, then," she said, "here we go." And she was helped up onto the platform.

It was not pleasant. It never was, but her weeks of practice in northern Arendia had given her the ability to assess the mood of a crowd and to adjust the pace of her delivery accordingly. As Polgara had suggested, the Mimbrates seemed quite willing to listen interminably. Moreover, standing here on the field at Vo Mimbre gave her words a certain dramatic impact. Torak himself had stood here, and the vast human sea of the Angarak hordes had hurled themselves from here against the unyielding walls of the city gleaming at the edge of the plain. Ce'Nedra spoke, the words rolling from her mouth as she delivered her impassioned address. Every eye was upon her, and every ear was bent to her words. Whatever sorcery Lady Polgara used to make the Rivan Queen's voice audible at the farthest edge of the crowd was clearly working. Ce'Nedra could see the impact of what she was saying rippling through the hosts before her like a breeze touching a field of bending wheat.

And then, as the sun hovered in golden clouds just above the western horizon, the little queen moved into the climactic crescendo of her oration. The words "pride," "honor," "courage," and "duty" sang in the blood of her rapt listeners. Her final question, "Who will follow me?" was delivered just as the setting sun bathed the field with flaming light and was answered with an ear-splitting roar as the Mimbrate knights drew their swords in salute.

Perspiring heavily in her sun-heated armor, Ce'Nedra, as was her custom, drew her own sword in reply, leaped to her horse and led her now enormous army from the field.

"Stupendousl" she heard King Korodullin marvel as he rode behind her.

"Now you see why we follow her," King Anheg told him.

"She's magnificent!" King Korodullin declared. "Truly, my Lords, such eloquence can only be a gift from the Gods. I had viewed our enterprise with some trepidation - I confess it - but gladly would I challenge all the hosts of Angarak now. Heaven itself is with this marvellous child, and we cannot fail."

"I'll feel better after I see how the legions respond to her," King Rhodar observed. "They're a pretty hard-bitten lot, and I think it might take a bit more than a speech about patriotism to move them."

Ce'Nedra, however, had already begun to work on that. She considered the problem from every angle as she sat alone in her tent that evening, brushing her hair. She needed something to stir her countrymen and she instinctively knew what it must be.

Quite suddenly the silver amulet at her throat gave a strange little quiver, something it had never done before. Ce'Nedra laid down her brush and touched her fingertips to the talisman.

"I know you can hear me, father," she heard Polgara say. A sudden image rose in Ce'Nedra's mind of Polgara, wrapped in her blue cloak, standing atop a hill with the night breeze stirring her hair.

"Have you regained your temper yet?" Belgarath's voice sounded wary.

"We'll talk about that some other time. What are you up to?"

"At the moment, I'm up to my ears in
drunk
Nadraks. We're in a tavern in Yar Nadrak."

"I might have guessed. Is Garion all right?"

"Of course he is. I'm not going to let anything happen to him, Pol. Where are you?"

"At Vo Mimbre.
We've raised the Arends, and we're going on to Tolnedra in the morning."

"Ran Borune won't like that much."

"We have a certain advantage. Ce'Nedra's leading the army."

"Ce'Nedra?" Belgarath sounded startled.

"It seems that was what the passage in the Codex meant. She's been preaching the Arends out of the trees as if she owned them."

"What an amazing thing."

"Did you know that the southern Murgos are already gathered at Rak Goska?"

"I've heard some rumors."

"It changes things, you know."

"Perhaps.
Who's in charge of the army?"

"Rhodar."

"Good. Tell him to avoid anything major as long as possible, Pol, but keep the Angaraks off my back."

"We'll do what we can." She seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Are you all right,
father
?" she asked carefully. The question seemed important for some reason.

"Do you mean am I still in full possession of my faculties?"
He sounded amused. "Garion told me that you were worried about that."

"I told him not to say anything."

"By the time he got around to it, the whole question was pretty much academic."

"Are you-? I mean can you still?"

"Everything seems to work the same as always, Pol," he assured her.

"Give my love to Garion."

"Of course.
Don't make a habit of this, but keep in touch with me."

"Very well, father."

The amulet under Ce'Nedra's fingers quivered again. Then Polgara's voice spoke quite firmly. "All right, Ce'Nedra," the sorceress said, "you can stop eavesdropping now."

Guiltily, Ce'Nedra jerked her fingers from the amulet.

The next morning, even before the sun came up, she sent for Barak and Durnik.

"I'm going to need every scrap of Angarak gold in the entire army," she announced to them.
"Every single coin.
Buy it from the men if you have to, but get me all the red gold you can lay your hands on."

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell us why," Barak said sourly. The big man was surly about being pulled from his bed before daylight.

"I'm a Tolnedran," she informed him, "and I know my countrymen. I think I'm going to need some bait."

RAN BORUNE XXIII, Emperor of Tolnedra, was livid with rage. Ce'Nedra noticed with a certain pang that her father had aged considerably in the year that she had been absent and she wished that their meeting might be more cordial than this one promised to be.

The Emperor had drawn up his legions on the plains of northern Tolnedra, and they faced Ce'Nedra's army as it emerged from the forest of Vordue. The sun was warm, and the crimson standards of the legions, rising from what seemed a vast sea of brightly burnished steel, waved imposingly in the summer breeze. The massed legions had taken up positions along the crest of a line of low hills and they looked down at Ce'Nedra's sprawling army with the tactical advantage of terrain in their favor.

King Rhodar quietly pointed this out to the young queen as they dismounted to meet the Emperor. "We definitely don't want to provoke anything here," he advised her. "Try your best to be polite at least."

"I know what I'm doing,
your
Majesty," she replied airily, removing her helmet and carefully smoothing her hair.

"Ce'Nedra," Rhodar said bluntly, taking her arm in a firm grasp, "you've been playing this on your veins since the first day we landed on the hook of Arendia. You don't know from one minute to the next what you're going to do. I most definitely do not propose to attack the Tolnedran legions uphill, so be civil to your father or I'll take you over my knee and spank you. Do you understand me?"

"Rhodar!"
Ce'Nedra gasped. "What a terrible thing to say!"

"I mean every word," he told her. "You mind your manners, young lady."

"Of course I will," she promised. She gave him a shy, little-girl look through fluttering eyelashes. "Do you still love me, Rhodar?" she asked in a tiny voice.