Polgara the Sorceress (17 page)

The next day I tried staying down in those twisting valleys to avoid the full force of the wind, but I soon realized that I was beating my way through miles of snow-dogged air without really accomplishing anything. Grimly I went up into the full force of the wind again.

I finally passed the crest of the mountains and soared down the west slope toward the Sendarian plain. It was still snowing, but at least the wind had diminished. Then I reached the coast, and the fight started again. The gale blowing across the Sea of the Winds was every bit as savage as the wind in the mountains had been, and there was no place to rest among those towering waves.

It took me five days altogether to reach the Isle of the Winds and I was shaking with exhaustion when I settled at last on the battlements of the Citadel early on the morning of the sixth day. My body screamed for rest, but there was no time for that. I hurried through the bleak corridors to the royal apartments and went in without bothering to knock.

The main room of those living quarters was littered with discarded clothing and the table cluttered with the remains of half-eaten meals. Iron-grip, his grey clothes rumpled and his face unshaven, came out of an exhausted half-doze as I entered. ‘Thank the Gods!’ he exclaimed.

‘Aunt Pol!’ my nephew, who looked at least as haggard as his father, greeted me. Daran was about twenty now, and I was surprised at how much he had grown.

‘Where is she?’ I demanded.

‘She’s in bed, Pol,’ Riva told me. ‘She had a bad night, and she’s exhausted. She coughs all the time, and she can’t seem to get her breath.’

‘I need to talk with her physicians,’ I told them crisply. ‘Then I’ll want to look at her.’

‘Ah–’ Riva floundered. ‘We haven’t actually called in any physicians yet, Pol. I think Elthek, the Rivan Deacons’, been praying over her, though. He says that hiring physicians is just a waste of time and money.’

‘He tells us that mother’s getting better, though,’ Daran added.

‘How would
he
know?’

‘He’s a priest, Aunt Pol. Priests are very wise.’

‘I’ve never known a priest yet who knew his right hand from his left. Take me to your mother immediately.’ I looked around at all the litter. ‘Get this cleaned up,’ I told them.

Daran opened the bedroom door and glanced in. ‘She’s asleep,’ he whispered.

‘Good. At least your priest isn’t inflicting any more of his mumbo-jumbo on her. From now on, keep him away from her.’

‘You
can
make her well, can’t you, Aunt Pol?’

‘That’s why I’m here, Daran.’ I tried to make it sound convincing.

I scarcely recognized my sister when I reached the bed. She’d lost so much weight! The circles under eyes looked like bruises, and her breathing was labored. I touched her drawn face briefly and discovered that she was burning with fever. Then I did something I’d never done before. I sent a probing thought at my sister’s mind and merged my thought with hers.

‘Polgara?’
her sleeping thought came to me.
’I don’t feel well.’

‘Where is it, Beldaran?’
I asked gently.

‘My chest. It feels so tight.’
Then her half-drowsing thought was gone.

I’d more or less expected that. The accursed climate on the Isle of the Winds was killing my sister.

I probed further, deeper into her body. As I’d expected, the center of her illness was located in her lungs.

I came out of the bedroom and softly closed the door behind me. ‘I have to go down into the city,’ I told Riva and Daran.

‘Why?’ Riva asked me.

‘I need some medications.’

‘Elthek says that those things are a form of witchcraft, Pol,’ Riva said. ‘He says that only prayers to Belar can cure Beldaran.’

I said some things I probably shouldn’t have said at that point. Riva looked startled, and Daran dropped the clothing he’d been picking up. ‘Just as soon as my sister’s on the mend, I’m going to have a long talk with your precious Rivan Deacon,’ I told them from between clenched teeth. ‘For right now, tell him to stay away from Beldaran. Tell him that if he goes into her room again, I’ll make him wish he’d never been born. I’ll be back in just a little while.’

‘I’ll send Brand with you,’ Riva offered.

‘Brand? Who’s he?’

‘Baron Kamion. Brand’s sort of a title. He’s my chief advisor, and he carries a lot of the weight of my crown for me.’ Riva made a rueful face. ‘I probably should have listened to him this time. He said a lot of the things you’ve already said – about the Deacon, I mean.’

‘Why didn’t you listen to him? Tell him to catch up with me.’ Then I stormed out of the royal apartment and went along the grim, torchlit corridor toward the main entrance to the Citadel, muttering some of uncle Beldin’s more colorful epithets along the way.

Kamion caught up with me just as I reached the massive doors that opened out into the snowy courtyard. He was older, of course, and he seemed more sober and serious
than he’d been the last time I’d seen him. His blond hair was touched at the temples with grey now, but I noted with approval that he hadn’t gone so completely Alorn as to grow a beard. He wore a grey woolen cloak and carried another over his arm. ‘It’s good to see you again, Pol,’ he said. Then he held out the extra cloak. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Put this on. It’s cold out there.’

‘I’m feeling
very
warm right now, Kamion,’ I told him. ‘Couldn’t you keep that idiot priest away from Riva?’

He sighed. ‘I tried, Pol. Believe me I tried, but his Majesty likes to get along with people, and Elthek waves his religious office around like a war-banner. He’s half-convinced most of the population that he speaks for Belar, and that’s very difficult to counter. His Majesty’s the keeper of the Orb, and that makes him a holy object in the eyes of the priesthood. In a peculiar way the priests seem to think they own him. They have no real understanding of the Orb, so they seem to believe that it’ll do anything Riva tells it to do. They don’t comprehend the limitations. Would you believe that Elthek even went so far as to suggest that his Majesty try to cure his wife by touching her with the Orb?’

‘That would have killed her!’

‘Yes, I know. I managed to persuade him not to try it without some guidance from either you or your father.’

‘At least he had enough sense to listen to you.’

‘Can you cure my queen, Pol?’ he asked as we went out into the courtyard.

I looked directly at his handsome face and knew that I could tell him a truth that I’d hidden from Riva and Daran. ‘I’m not sure, Kamion,’ I admitted.

He sighed. ‘I was afraid it was more serious than we thought at first,’ he admitted. ‘What’s causing the illness?’

‘The filthy climate of the God-forsaken island!’ I burst out. ‘It’s destroying my sister’s lungs. She can’t breathe here.’

He nodded. “The queen’s been falling ill every winter for quite a number of years now. What do we need from the city?’

‘I need to talk with Arell, and then I’m going to ransack
the shop of a herbalist named Argak. I think I might want to talk with a man named Balten as well.’

‘I think I know him. He’s a barber, isn’t he?’

“That’s his day-job, Kamion. At night he’s a grave-robber.’

‘He’s what?’

‘Actually, he’s a surgeon, and he digs up dead bodies so that he can study them. You need to know what you’re doing when you cut into people.’

‘Surely you’re not going to cut into the queen’s body?’ he exclaimed.

‘I’ll take her apart and put her back together again if that’s what it takes to save her life, Kamion. I don’t think Balten’s going to be of much use, but he might know something about lungs that I don’t. Right now I’d strike a bargain with Torak himself if he could help me save Beldaran.’

Arell was older, of course. Her hair was grey now, but her eyes were very wise. ‘What kept you, Pol?’ she demanded when Kamion and I entered her cluttered little dress shop.

‘I only heard about Beldaran’s illness recently, Arell,’ I replied. ‘Is Argak still in business?’

She nodded. ‘He’s as crotchety as ever, though, and he hates being awakened before noon.’

‘That’s just too bad, isn’t it? I need some things from his shop, and if he doesn’t want to wake up, I’ll have Lord Brand here chop open the door with his sword.’

‘My pleasure, Pol,’ Kamion said, smiling.

‘Oh, another thing, Arell,’ I said. ‘Could you send for Balten, too?’

‘Balten’s in the dungeon under the temple of Belar right now, Pol. A couple of priests caught him in the graveyard the other night. He had a shovel, and there was a dead body in his wheel-barrow. They’re probably going to burn him at the stake for witchcraft.’

‘No. They’re not. Go get him out for me, would you, please, Kamion?’

‘Of course, Pol. Did you want me to chop down the temple?’

‘Don’t try to be funny, Kamion,’ I told him tartly.

‘Just a bit of levity to relieve the tension, my Lady.’

‘Levitate on your own time. Let’s all get busy, shall we?’

Kamion went off to the temple of Belar while Arell and I went to Argak’s chemistry shop. I wasn’t really very gentle when I woke up my former teacher. After Arell and I had pounded on his shop door for about five minutes, I unleashed a thunderclap in the bedroom upstairs. Thunderclaps are impressive enough outdoors. Sharing a room with one is almost guaranteed to wake you up. The stone building was still shuddering when Argak’s window flew open and he appeared above us. ‘What was that?’ he demanded. His eyes were wide, his sparse hair was sticking straight up, and he was trembling violently.

‘Just a little wake-up call, dear teacher,’ I told him. ‘Now get down here and open the door to your shop or I’ll blow it all to splinters.’

‘There’s no need to get violent, Pol,’ he said placatingly.

‘Not unless you try to go back to bed, my friend.’

It took me about an hour to locate all the medications I thought I might need, and Argak helpfully suggested others. Some of those herbs were fairly exotic, and some were actually dangerous, requiring carefully measured doses.

Then Kamion returned with Balten. Evidently even the arrogant priests of Belar knew enough not to argue with the Rivan Warder. ‘What’s behind all this idiotic interference from the priests?’ I demanded of my teachers. ‘This sort of thing wasn’t going on when I was studying here.’

‘It’s Elthek, the new Rivan Deacon, Pol,’ Arell explained. ‘He’s hysterical about witchcraft.’

‘That’s a pose, Arell,’ Balten told her. ‘Elthek tries to keep it a secret, but he’s a Bear-Cultist to the bone. He receives instructions regularly from the High Priest of Belar in Val Alorn. The Cult’s goal has always been absolute domination of Alorn society. All this nonsense about witchcraft isn’t really anything more than an excuse to eliminate competition. Elthek wants the population here on the Isle to turn to the priesthood in any kind of emergency – including illness. The practice of medicine can effect cures that seem miraculous to ordinary Alorns. Elthek doesn’t like the idea of miracles that come from some source other than the
priesthood. That’s what’s behind all those long-winded sermons about witchcraft. He’s trying to discredit those of us who practice medicine.’

‘Maybe so,’ Argak grumbled darkly, ‘but all the laws pointed right at us come from the throne.’

‘That’s not entirely his Majesty’s fault,’ Kamion told him. ‘Alom custom dictates that all religious matters are the domain of the priesthood. If Elthek presents a proposed law to the throne as a religious issue, Iron-grip automatically signs and seals it – usually without even bothering to read it. He and I have argued about that on occasion. Elthek fills the first paragraph of a proposed “theological ordinance” with all sorts of religious nonsense, and our king’s eyes glaze over before he gets to the meat of the document. Elthek keeps insisting that prayer is the only way to cure disease.’

‘He’d actually sacrifice my sister for a political idea?’ I exclaimed.

‘Of course he would, Pol. He doesn’t worship Belar, he worships his own power.’

‘I think Algar had the right idea,’ I muttered darkly. ‘As soon as Beldaran gets well, we might want to do something about the Bear-Cult here on the Isle.’

‘It’d certainly make
our
lives easier,’ Arell noted. ‘I’m getting a little tired of being called a witch.’

‘Why don’t we all go up to the Citadel?’ I suggested.

‘You’ll get us burned at the stake, Pol,’ Argak objected. ‘If we openly practice medicine – particularly in the Citadel – the Deacon’s priests will clap us into the dungeon and start gathering firewood.’

‘Don’t worry, Argak,’ I said grimly. ‘If anybody’s going to catch on fire, it’ll be Elthek himself.’

And so we all climbed the hill to the Citadel. Now that I was aware of the situation and was paying closer attention, I noticed that there seemed to be far more priests in that fortress than were really necessary.

Beldaran was awake when we all trooped into her bedroom, and after we’d examined her, we gathered in the next room for a consultation.

The condition appears to be chronic,’ Balten observed.
‘This should have been looked into a long time ago.’

‘Well, we can’t turn around and go backward in time,’ Arell said. ‘What do you think, Argak?’

‘I wish she weren’t so weak,’ Argak said. ‘There are some compounds that’d be fairly efficacious if she were more robust, but they’d be too dangerous now.’

‘We’ve got to come up with
something,
Argak,’ I said.

‘Give me some time, Pol. I’m working on it.’ He rummaged through the case of little glass vials he’d brought from his shop. He selected one of the vials and handed it to me. ‘In the meantime, dose her with this every few hours. It’ll keep her condition from deteriorating further while we decide what to do.’

Arell and I went into Beldaran’s room. ‘Let’s air out the room, clean her up, change her bedding, and comb her hair, Pol,’ Arell suggested. “That always makes people feel better.’

‘Right,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll get some more pillows, too. She might be able to breathe a little easier if we prop her up.’

Beldaran seemed to feel much better after Arell and I had attended to those little things that men can’t seem to think of. She did
not
enjoy Argak’s medication, however. ‘That’s
terrible,
Pol,’ she said after I gave it to her.