Polgara the Sorceress (40 page)

‘Monstrous!’ Nerasin exclaimed. ‘You
can’t
teach serfs how to read!’

‘Why not? Educated workers would probably be more efficient than untutored ones, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Lady Polgara, there are hot-heads out there who’ve been writing all sorts of inflammatory nonsense. If the serfs can read, they might get their hands on documents that could start a revolution!’

‘Revolutions are healthy, Nerasin. They clear the air. You probably wouldn’t be where you are today if Earl Mangaran, Baroness Asrana and I hadn’t removed your uncle from the throne in Vo Astur, would you? Happy workers don’t revolt. It’s when you start mistreating them that they come after you with pitchforks. That’s not going to happen in my realm.’

‘I’d sooner bite out my tongue than to try to tell you what to do, Aunt Pol,’ Alleran said, ‘but don’t you think you’re moving a little fast?’

‘I’m cleaning house, Alleran,’ I told him, ‘and it’s a
very
messy house. I’m not going to leave patches of dust in the corners just for old times sake.’

I could see from all the blank looks that what I was saying was going completely over – or through – their heads. ‘Oh, dear,’ I sighed. ‘All right then, let me put it this way. Last summer, the three of you saw fit to elevate me to a status of equality with you. Isn’t that what you had in mind?’

‘Well –’ Alleran said dubiously, ‘I guess so.’

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t that mean that the Duchy of Erat is mine – totally?’

‘That was our intent, your Grace,’ Corrolin conceded.

‘Isn’t he a nice boy?’ I said to the other two. ‘Now, then, since the Duchy of Erat belongs to me – absolutely – I can do anything I want to do up there, can’t I? And none of
you – either singly or all together – can do anything at all to interfere with me, can you?’

‘There
are
rules and customs, Aunt Pol,’ Alleran protested.

‘Yes, I know – bad rules and bad customs. That’s part of the dust and debris I’m scrubbing out of the corners.’ I looked sternly at the Duke of Astur. ‘Tell them what happened when you abducted little Kathandrion, Nerasin,’ I said. ‘Describe it in great detail – and if you’ve forgotten, I can always do it again – just to refresh your memory.’ Then I included them all in my warning. ‘If you gentlemen don’t like what I’m doing inside my own borders, that’s just too bad. And if it
really
upsets you, feel free to declare war on me at any time. I’ll tell you this, however, the first one of you who invades my realm is going to get very,
very
sick. I won’t maim your knights, or slaughter your foot-soldiers, or ride across your borders to burn the villages of your serfs. I’ll take your actions personally, and my retaliation will be directed at you – personally. If you choose to attack me, I’ll build fires in your own personal bellies. What I do on my own lands is
my
business. Now then, I’m very busy this summer, so what have we got on this year’s agenda? Let’s get to work here.’

Does that leave any doubts in anyone’s mind about just who was running things in Arendia in those days?

Killane returned to Vo Wacune in mid-autumn. ‘Th’ weather’s goin’ t’ pot up there, Lady-O,’ he reported. ‘I paid off th’ buildin’ crew an’ told ‘em all t’ come back in th’ spring. If we tromp around durin’ th’ rainy season, about all we’ll manage t’ do is t’ turn yer beautiful meadow into a mud-bog, don’t y’ know, an’ I’m after thinkin’ y’ wouldn’t like that too much. I left a couple o’ min t’ guard th’ place.’

‘Very efficient, Killane,’ I agreed. I knew exactly how much progress he’d made – I
had
looked things over, after all – but I let him give me glowing, though slightly exaggerated, descriptions of what had been accomplished so far.

Then he looked around at the heaps of law books piled in my library. ‘An’ what’s all this?’ he asked curiously.

‘I’m setting up laws, Killane,’ I replied wearily. ‘It’s very tedious.’

‘Yer whims an’ wishes are th’ law, yer Grace.’

‘Not when I finish with this, they won’t be. I’m trying to reconcile the best of the major legal systems in the world here – mostly Tolnedran and Melcene, but with just a sprinkling of Alorn, Nyissan, and even Marag statutes thrown in to season it all. I even found a couple of ideas in Angarak legal practices that might be useful.’

‘What’s th’ point o’ strainin’ yer pretty head w’ all that dusty nonsense, me Lady?’

‘The point is justice, Killane. That’s the ultimate point of any system of law.’ I gestured at the stacks of books. There are a lot of weeds in this garden, but I’ll get them all pulled out so that the beds are ready for the roses.’

Killane completed the work on my manor house in the late summer of 2330, not too long after Duke Corrolin of Mimbre died, and, properly escorted this time, he and I journeyed north so that I could have a look at my seat of power. I’d seen it from the air on several occasions, of course, but an overhead survey doesn’t really convey the impact of a building when you see it from ground level. The house stood on a rise near the north bank of the river that fed the lake, so water was accessible; and a graveled path led from my back door down to a stone wharf jutting out into the river, so deliveries would be convenient. The meadow which had first attracted my attention ran on down about a quarter mile to the lake-front to the west, and as I’d envisioned, the encircling wooded hills with the snow-capped mountains lying to the east made it all just perfect.

Am I going on too much about my house? Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it? I love that house, and if I want to talk about it, I will.

The house itself was a dream in snowy marble. Killane had quite obviously taken quite a few liberties with the dimensions indicated on the detailed plans we’d agreed upon. I’d assumed that there were some finite limits implicit in the amount of money I’d given him for the construction,
but Killane’s skills at bargaining had given him plenty of elbow-room. His introduction of the concept of competitive bidding had definitely had an impact on costs, so he more than gave me my money’s worth. The central building was several stories tall, and it was fronted by a columned portico that had a Tolnedran sort of effect. Curved wings extended out from either side of the main hall to embrace a formal garden with incipient hedges and unplanted flower-beds awaiting my attention.

The interior of the house was even more pleasing, if that’s possible. The rooms were large and well-lighted by tall windows. The kitchens were extensive, and the baths at the rear of the house could only be called luxurious. Since the place was totally devoid of furnishings or drapes, though, it echoed like the inside of an empty cave. It definitely needed carpeting and drapes.

‘I’ve taken th’ liberty o’ engagin’ a number o’ furniture-makers, yer Grace,’ Killane advised me. ‘I’ve set ‘em up in a shop adjoinin’ th’ stables out back. Y’ might want t’ give some consideration t’ decidin’ on one particular style o’ furniture fer th’ place. A house with a dozen different kinds o’ chairs an’ tables always looks sort o’ slap-dash, don’t y’ know.’

I definitely knew about slap-dash. Father’s tower was a perfect example of it. The sheer size of the house was intimidating, and I hoped that Killane’s family would be large enough to staff it. Killane and I made some decisions about furniture, draperies, carpets and other niceties, and then I returned to Vo Wacune to keep an eye on things.

By the summer of 2331, the lake-shore house was complete, and I began to divide my time between my town house in Vo Wacune and my country house on Lake Erat. Traveling back and forth between them was not as tedious for me as it would have been had I not had certain advantages.

There were still tensions in Arendia, of course, but I managed to smooth them over, so things stayed quiet.

Then in the late summer of 2333 father came by Vo Wacune for a visit. He seemed quite startled by what he perceived to be the opulence of my town house. ‘What’s
all this?’ he asked me after Killane’s sister Rana had shown him into my library. I’m not entirely sure how he’d gotten past Rana. Father’s always been a little careless about his appearance, and Rana had opinions about things like that.

‘I’m moving up in the world, father,’ I told him.

‘So I see.’ He flopped down in a chair beside my library table. ‘Have you found a gold-mine somewhere? This place looks moderately luxurious, and I don’t think you had all that much money in your pocket when you came here about twenty years ago.’

‘The Dukes of Arendia saw fit to reward me for dismantling Ctuchik’s schemes back then. They put me on a yearly pension – maybe in hopes that I’d retire from politics. I tried to turn it down, but they insisted. The money kept piling up until Asrana – you remember her, don’t you?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he replied, ‘the devious little Asturian lady.’

That was Asrana, all right. Anyway, she suggested that I might spend some of the money on my own house, and this is the one I chose. Do you like it?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s liveable, I suppose. You were following the Master’s orders, though, Pol. Taking that money was just a bit on the tacky side.’

The Master told me to keep peace in Arendia, father, and that means getting along with the dukes. I took their money to avoid offending them. The stipend’s been discontinued, though.’

‘Good. But how are you maintaining this palace?’

‘My estates are quite extensive, Old Wolf. They earn enough to get me by.’

‘Your estates?’ That seemed to startle him.

They lie to the north of the River Camaar. If you think
this
house is opulent, you should see my manor house. I hope you’re not too disappointed in me, father. I haven’t ascended the throne of a unified Arendia – yet – but you
do
have the distinct honor to be addressing her Grace, the Duchess of Erat.’

‘How did you manage that?’

I told him about the abduction and subsequent rescue of little Kathandrion and about my elevation to my current rank.

‘You didn’t do anything permanent to the Asturian duke, did you, Pol?’ he asked, looking quite concerned. Father’s rather casually killed a lot of people in his time, but for some reason he’s forbidden me to follow his example. Consistency’s never been one of his strong points.

I told him about Nerasin’s stomach problems, and he burst out laughing. ‘Brilliant, Pol!’ he congratulated me. ‘You ended the Arendish civil wars with a bellyache!’

‘For the time being, anyway. Go get cleaned up, father. We have a party to go to this evening.’

‘A party?’

‘A grand ball, actually. Duke Alleran loves music and dancing, but I rather expect that you’ll be the absolute center of attention.’

‘Foolishness!’ he snorted.

‘No, father – politics. I’ve got Arendia in the palm of my hand right now, but just to be on the safe side, I’d like for everybody to know that I’ve got you in a sheath strapped to my hip if I really need you. Be regal, father, and intimidating. Make them believe that you can uproot mountains if you want to. I want them all to see just how sharp your edge is and how much damage I can do with you if I decide to whip you out of the sheath and start flailing around with you.’

‘Are you trying to say that I’m your champion?’ he demanded.

‘You’ll always be my champion, father. Now, go take a bath, trim your beard and put on a white robe. Don’t embarrass me in public.’

My father’s a performer. I think I’ve said that before. Give him a little bit of stage-direction and a fairly detailed characterization to work with and he’ll turn in a truly masterful performance. He grumbled a bit at first – just as he had before that speech he’d given at Vo Astur – but the lure of sheer melodrama began to exert its pull on him, and by the time we left for Alleran’s palace, he’d completely immersed himself in the role of ‘Belgarath the Destroyer’. Candor compels me to point out the fact that he overplayed his role outrageously that evening, but he
was
performing for Arends, after all. Arends aren’t the world’s
greatest drama critics, so overacting doesn’t seem to bother them.

Got you again, didn’t I, Old Wolf?

The years plodded sedately along after father’s visit. Little disputes flared up from time to time, but we were able to smooth them over during the annual meetings of the Arendish Council. My periodic excursions as a roving fire-brigade became less and less frequent as the Arends gradually became accustomed to the idea of peace. My vassals began to grudgingly admit that they were actually doing better now than they had back during ‘the good old days’ of serfdom, and money began to replace the barter economy which had previously prevailed. I had a few difficulties with Tolnedran merchants in some of the towns in my realm, but they largely evaporated after I standardized weights and measures and amended the criminal code to include fairly stiff fines for unrestrained creativity in the definition of pounds and inches. At first the local Tolnedrans didn’t think I was serious, so for a few years my revenue from the fines actually exceeded that which my estates brought in. The money was surplus anyway, so I put it to use building schools from one end of my duchy to the other. I didn’t
quite
manage universal literacy, but I was moving up on it. Then, in furtherance of a long-standing hobby of mine, I established a college of practical medicine in Sulturn. My goal was a healthy, prosperous, well-educated population, and I was purposefully marching in that direction, dragging everybody in my realm behind me.

Duke Borrolane, the successor to old Duke Corrolin, seemed a little puzzled by what I was doing and by my obvious success during our meeting in the summer of 2340.

‘It’s really nothing, your Grace,’ I told him. ‘Odd though it may seem to you, women are far more practical than men – perhaps because we’re the ones who do the cooking. Men are dreamers, but no matter how exalted a dream is, it won’t bake a loaf of bread. When you get right down to it, anyone who can run a kitchen can probably rule a domain – large or small.’

The actual business of the day-to-day ruling of the Duchy of Erat fell largely on Killane’s shoulders. He was in his mid-fifties by now and he was a substantial-looking fellow with a no-nonsense air about him. Technically, he was my reeve, the administrator of my personal estates, but my vassals, assorted counts and barons, soon realized that his opinions carried great weight with me, and so they all tried to stay on the good side of him. He didn’t abuse his position or put on airs that might have offended the nobility. His standard response to petitions, complaints, disputes, and the like was fairly simple: ‘I’ll be after sendin’ word of yer proposal t’ her Grace, me Lord. We’ll see what she has t’ say.’ Then he’d wait for a couple of weeks and deliver my ‘decision’ about matters I wasn’t even aware of. His function in my realm was much the same as Kamion’s had been on the Isle of the Winds. He served as a buffer – a filter, if you will – that kept petty details out of my hair. In effect, I gave him a general idea of what I wanted, and then he made sure that I got it without offending
too
many people. In many ways, though he probably didn’t realize it, my humorous friend was an administrative genius. To put it succinctly, he ran Erat while I ran the rest of Arendia.