Polgara the Sorceress (83 page)

His squeal was piercing, and he gaped down in horror at the blood gushing through the neat gash I’d just sliced through his shirt. ‘You mustn’t do that, you know,’ I chided him, not even bothering to raise my voice. I wiped my knife clean on his shirt collar, slipped it back into its sheath, and then I looked around at the other tavern patrons. ‘Does anybody here happen to have a needle and thread?’ I asked them. ‘We’ll all be wading in blood if I don’t sew poor Kreblar here back together.’

A cobbler provided what I needed, and I had Gallak and three or four others stretch Kreblar back over the table and hold him down. Then, humming softly to myself, I neatly stitched up the gash that ran from armpit to armpit across Kreblar’s chest, ignoring his squeals.

I’m not sure exactly why, but I think the sewing chilled the blood of the onlookers far more than the gashing had. People are funny sometimes.

In time, my fame spread in Yar Nadrak, and as I’d more or less anticipated, Gallak finally received an invitation to ‘stop by the palace, and bring Polanna with you’. My hours of practice and those public performances had finally paid off.

King Drosta’s palace was in the center of Yar Nadrak, and as closely as I was able to determine, it was the only stone building in the entire city. Nadraks, however, aren’t very good at working with stone, so the palace was as lopsided as were all the other buildings in town. When Gallak and I entered the throne-room, I saw there the only Grolim I encountered during my entire stay. I warily sent an inquiring thought toward his mind and discovered that he didn’t really have one. He was a Grolim, right enough, but he was only marginally talented, and as nearly as I could determine, he hadn’t drawn a sober breath in the past ten years. Torak’s hold on the Nadraks was tenuous, to say the very least.

King Drosta was rather young to be occupying a throne, and he appeared to feel that his major responsibility was to enjoy himself. He was thin to the point of emaciation, and his face was splotched with angry purple eruptions and deeply indented scars. His hair was coarse, black, and
rather sparse, and his obviously expensive yellow clothing was none too clean.

Since being presented at court is a formal occasion, I was wearing my chain, and Gallak led me around by it in the socially approved manner. I wore my dancing costume, which was more or less concealed beneath a blue outer dress. Gallak led me up to the foot of the throne, and when we got there, he bowed to his king. ‘My name’s Gallak, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘You sent for me?’

‘Ah, there you are, Gallak,’ Drosta replied in a shrill, almost hysterical voice. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’ Then he eyed me up and down, and his look was insultingly obvious. ‘So this is the famous Polanna,’ he said. ‘She’s a looker, isn’t she?’ He giggled nervously. ‘Would you like to sell her, Gallak?’

‘Ah – no, your Majesty,’ Gallak replied. ‘I don’t think so.’ I thought that was a wise decision, since Gallak was only a chain’s length away from my daggers.

‘Maybe you might want to rent her to me then.’ Drosta seemed to think that was funny because he laughed uproariously.

That would be
my
decision, Drosta,’ I told him coldly, ‘and I doubt that you’ve got enough money.’

‘Proud of yourself, aren’t you?’ he said.

‘I know how much I’m worth,’ I said, shrugging.

They tell me you’re a dancer.’

They weren’t wrong.’

‘Are you a good dancer?’

The best you’ll ever see.’ Modesty’s not a Nadrak virtue, but that remark probably even exceeded ordinary Nadrak boastfulness.

‘You’ll have to prove that to me, Polanna.’

‘Whenever you wish, Drosta. Before we start, though, maybe you should look at these.’ I reached inside my dress, drew out my daggers, and showed them to him.

‘Are you threatening me?’ he demanded, his eyes bulging out even further.

‘It wasn’t intended as a threat, Drosta – just a statement of fact. This is what’ll happen to you if your appreciation gets the better of you.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a knife with a hook on its point before. What’s the purpose of that?’

“The hooks pull things out – things that most people prefer to keep inside.’ I looked at the implements admiringly. ‘Aren’t they lovely?’ I said. ‘They’re designed to hurt more coming out than they do going in.’

His face turned slightly green, and he shuddered. ‘This is a terrible woman, Gallak,’ he said to my owner. ‘How can you stand being around her?’

‘She’s good for me, your Majesty,’ Gallak replied. ‘She teaches me good manners. Not only that, she’s the best cook in Gar og Nadrak.’

‘In the world, actually, Gallak,’ I corrected him. ‘Well, Drosta,’ I said then, ‘what’s it to be? Did you want me to dance for you, or would you like supper?’

‘Dance first, Polanna,’ he leered. ‘Let’s see if your dancing whets my appetite.’ Then he looked around his crowded throne-room. ‘Clear the floor!’ he commanded. ‘Give this girl some room! Let’s find out if she’s as good as she seems to think she is!’

I took that to be a challenge, so I cast aside my customary restraint and added some elements I’d never tried in public before.

No, I won’t describe them here – the children, you understand.

King Drosta was trembling violently as I strutted back to reclaim my outer garment, and there was a somewhat awed look on his face. ‘Torak’s teeth!’ he swore. ‘I’ve never
seen
anything like that before!’

‘I told you I was the best, Drosta,’ I reminded him.

‘Are you positive you don’t want to sell her, Gallak?’ Drosta pleaded.

‘I think it’s my patriotic duty not to, your Majesty,’ my owner told him. ‘You have a reputation for excitability, and you might get carried away some day. I couldn’t in good conscience sell Polanna to you, since there’s no heir to the throne to succeed you.’

‘You wouldn’t
really
kill me, would you, Polanna?’ Drosta asked hopefully.

‘I’d regret it terribly, Drosta, but rules
are
rules, you understand. I’d try to make it as painless as possible, of course, but I’m sure there’d be some discomfort involved. My daggers aren’t designed for quickness – or neatness, for that matter. The process is usually
very
messy.’

‘You’re a cruel woman, Polanna. You flaunt something irresistible in front of me and then you tell me that you’ll yank out about twenty yards of my guts if I reach for it.’

That fairly well sums it up, yes. What would you like for supper, your Majesty?’

Gallak, Drosta, and I adjourned to the kitchens then, and I cooked supper for them.

‘We’ve got trouble, Gallak,’ Drosta said reflectively as he sprawled in a chair at the long table.

‘Oh?’ Gallak said.

‘How extensive are your contacts over in Drasnia?’

‘I’ve never been across the border personally, but I’ve got some people in Boktor.’

There’ll be a new king over there before long, won’t there?’

Gallak nodded. ‘The old one’s sinking fast. The Crown Prince’s name’s Rhodar. He’s fat, but he’s got a quick mind.’

‘I think I’d like to make some contacts with him. I’ve got a problem he might be able to help me with.’

‘Oh? Which problem is that?’

‘Its name is Taur Urgas, and it’s sitting on the throne in Rak Goska.’

‘The Murgos, you mean?’

‘It’s always the Murgos, Gallak. The world would be a much nicer place without the Murgos. Taur Urgas is crazy. Of course, that’s not too noticeable in Cthol Murgos. The whole race is crazy, but Taur Urgas raises it to an art form. I’m trying to establish some contacts with Zakath over in Mallorea. He’s the crown prince there, and he’s fairly civilized. I’m hoping that he’ll see the advantage of having an ally here on the western continent. Sooner or later, Taur Urgas is going to try to unify the western Angaraks, and I’d rather not be forced to bow down to a crazy Murgo.’

‘Wouldn’t it offend Taur Urgas if you made an alliance with Zakath?’

‘I don’t care if it offends him. If I’ve got Mallorea on my side, there won’t be much he can do about it. I’ve got a lot of territory, Gallak, but I don’t have very many people. If the Murgos march north, they’ll swallow us up. I
have
to form an alliance with
somebody!’
He banged his fist down on the table.’

‘Is that why you want to get in touch with Rhodar?’ I broke in.

‘Of course. I’d ally myself with the Morindim if I thought it’d do any good. Have you got
anybody
we can trust to carry messages to Rhodar for me, Gallak?’

‘None that I’d trust
that
much, your Majesty.’

I had a flash of inspiration at that point, and I have quite a few suspicions about its origin. ‘There’s a young man I’ve heard of here in town, and from what I’ve heard, he’s very shrewd – even though he doesn’t shave regularly yet. He’s got some rough edges, so you might have to train him a bit, but he’s quick, so he’ll pick it up in no time. He hasn’t had time to build up much of a reputation as yet, so with a little training, he’d probably make the perfect emissary. He’s quick, intelligent, and relatively anonymous.’

‘What’s his name?’ Drosta asked.

‘Yarblek.’

‘Oh, that one,’ Gallak said. ‘I’ve heard of him myself. He brags a lot, but I don’t think he really expects people to believe his boasting.’ He considered it. ‘You know, he might just work out pretty well – if we can train him – and I can get him to Boktor more or less unobserved. I send caravans there a couple of times a year, and I could hide Yarblek among my ox-drivers.’ Then he snapped his fingers. ‘Here’s a thought,’ he added. ‘I know a fellow named Javelin at the Drasnian embassy. He’s supposed to be a clerk of some kind, but I’m fairly sure he’s a spy. I could talk with him, and he could pass the word back to Boktor that Yarblek’s carrying a message from you to Rhodar. That should get Yarblek into the palace.’

Drosta chewed on one of his fingernails. ‘I’ll need to see him,’ he said. ‘If he’s as good as you both think he is, he
might be the answer to my problem. Where do I find him?’

‘He frequents a tavern called the Rat’s Nest, your Majesty,’ I supplied. ‘It’s in the thieves’ quarter near the east gate.’

‘I’ll send for him.’ He looked at me. ‘How old did you say he is, Polanna?’

‘I didn’t say,’ I replied. ‘About fifteen or so, from what I’ve heard.’

‘That’s awfully young.’

‘That depends on the individual, Drosta,’ I disagreed. ‘And you
will
have time to train him. Taur Urgas hasn’t started to march yet, so you’ve got some time to play with.’

‘There’s something in that,’ Drosta conceded, ‘and young ones are easier to mold than the ones already set in their ways.’

‘And they usually work cheap,’ Gallak added. ‘If you give him a title of some kind – “special Emissary”, or something like that – he might even work for nothing.’

‘What a wonderful idea,’ Drosta said enthusiastically.

I’d assumed that mother’d sent me to Gar og Nadrak just to assess the characters of Yarblek and Drosta, but it’d gone a little further than that, obviously. Not only had I met them, but I’d brought them together, and that had been the real purpose of my visit. Drosta was enthusiastic about Yarblek right at first, but I understand that his enthusiasm wore off after Yarblek found out what his services to his king were really worth. I wouldn’t swear to it, but I suspect Yarblek’s price started going up shortly after he met Silk.

This has been quite an evening,’ Drosta said expansively. ‘I got to watch the best dancer in my whole kingdom, and then she helps me to solve a problem that’s been nagging at me ever since I took the throne. Yes, quite an evening indeed.’

‘And you haven’t even tasted your supper yet,’ I added.

‘Will it be as good as the rest of the evening’s been?’

‘Better, probably,’ I promised.

‘Was that more or less what you had in mind, mother?’
I sent the thought out after Gallak and I got home.

‘Approximately, yes. You’re quick on your feet, Pol. Bringing the two of them together like that was a stroke of genius.’

‘I rather liked it myself. If we’re going to be using them somewhere out there in the future, I thought it might be more convenient if they were already hooked together. Am I more or less finished here?’

‘I think that covers just about everything.’

‘The next question is just exactly how I’m going to get out of town so that we can fly on back to Annath. Erasing the memory of everyone who’s seen me here in Yar Nadrak might be just a bit challenging.’

‘Why not just send word to your father? He’s not doing anything useful right now, and he’s got that stack of gold bars gathering dust in his tower. Tell him to come here and buy you from Gallak. He needs some exercise anyway, and he’s just a little too attached to that gold of his, wouldn’t you say?’

‘That’s terrible, mother!’
It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud.

‘I’m glad you approve,’
she replied placidly.

I waited for a couple of weeks, observing the progress of my ‘Yarblek scheme’, and then, when things seemed to be moving in the proper direction, I went across town to the Drasnian embassy to speak with Margrave Khendon, the man known as Javelin. A clerk carried my name into his office, and I was immediately admitted.

‘Polanna,’ he greeted me with a polite nod of his head, ‘I’m honored by this visit. Is there something I can do for you?’

‘I think you may know my father, Margrave,’ I said, looking around a bit cautiously for any peep-holes or listening posts. Spying
is
the national industry of Drasnia, after all.

‘I wouldn’t really think so, Polanna. I haven’t been in Yar Nadrak all that long, so I don’t know all that many Nadraks.’

‘My father’s not a Nadrak, Margrave. We haven’t as yet pinpointed his racial origins. Anyway, he’s in a Sendarian mountain village called Annath right at the moment, and I need to get word to him. It’s a matter of some delicacy, so I immediately thought of you. The Drasnian intelligence service is famous for its ability to keep secrets.’

‘And for finding them out,’ he added, looking rather directly at me. ‘I get the feeling that you’re not an ordinary Nadrak dancer, Polanna,’

‘No, I’m not. I’m better than all the others.’

‘That’s not exactly what I meant. You’re not a Nadrak, for one thing. Your eyes are the wrong shape.’

‘I’ll speak with them about that. Anyway, I’d like to have you get word to my father in Annath. Let him know that I’ve done what I was supposed to do here in Yar Nadrak and that I’d like to have him come here and buy me back from my owner – a fur-trader named Gallak.’

‘Ah – it might be helpful if I knew your father’s name, Polanna. I’m sure I could run him down eventually, but having his name might speed things up.’

‘How silly of me. I’m sorry, Khendon.’ Then I gave him a sly sidelong glance. ‘Maybe you should go back to the academy for a quick refresher course, though. I’m a bit hurt that you didn’t recognize me the moment I came through the door.’

Then he looked more closely at me, ignoring the leather clothing and the daggers. Then he blinked and rose quickly to his feet. ‘Your Grace,’ he said with an exquisite bow. ‘The very building trembles in your august presence.’

‘Your embassy was built by Nadrak laborers, Khendon. A good sneeze would make it tremble.’

‘Nadrak construction
is
a bit slap-dash, isn’t it,’ he agreed. His eyes narrowed, and one of his cheeks started to twitch. ‘Some things are starting to fit together now,’ he noted. ‘This business with Yarblek was all your idea, wasn’t it?’

‘How perceptive of you, Margrave. It all has to do with something that’s going to happen on out in the future. I
needed to establish a connection between Yarblek and King Drosta –
and
between Drosta and Prince Rhodar. It’s going to have a serious impact on something fairly significant. Don’t ask questions, Javelin, because you’re not going to get any answers. I’m having emough trouble keeping my father from tampering with the future, so I don’t need
you
muddying up the waters as well.’ I pushed the note I’d written and sealed that morning across his desk. ‘Just see to it that my father gets this. It explains everything to him. Don’t bother prying it open. It just tells him to come here and to buy me from Gallak. The Purpose of the Universe will be ever so grateful to you for this service.’

‘You’re taking a lot of the fun out of this, you know,’ he accused.

‘Just do as you’re told, and don’t ask questions, Javelin. All shall be revealed unto thee in the fullness of time.’ I just threw that in.

Javelin picked up on it immediately. ‘I shall be guided by thee in this, your Grace,’ he replied extravagantly. ‘I will, however, will thee or nil thee, make a few guesses.’

‘Guess all you want, dear boy, but don’t start dipping your fingers into it just yet.’ I rose from my chair. ‘Absolutely splendid talking with you, old chap,’ I added lightly. ‘Oh, incidentally, remind my father to bring
lots
of money with him when he comes to Yar Nadrak. I think he may be a bit surprised to discover how much I’m really worth.’

Javelin set aside his normal business and made the trip to Annath in person. I
was
a sort of living legend, after all. That can be tiresome now and then, but there
are
a few advantages to it, I suppose.

Father took his time getting to Yar Nadrak, naturally. Father takes his time about almost everything. After you’ve lived for seven thousand or so years, time doesn’t really mean all that much to you, I guess. Then again, it’s altogether possible that he had some trouble making a decision about buying me. He was extemely fond of that gold he and Yarblek’s ancestor had extracted from that stream-bed up near the lands of the Morindim, and parting with some of it may have been causing him a few problems.

Eventually, however, he passed the test – and make no
mistake about it, it
was
a test – and he showed up in Yar Nadrak with a saddle-bag filled with gold. Apparently I
was
worth something to him, after all.

I sensed his presence when he was a couple of miles out of town, and I accompanied Gallak to his place of business that morning. Gallak had a warehouse, of course, but he did most of his business in a tavern. Where else?

I waited until the old vagabond was about three doors away from the tavern, and then I told Gallak that I felt like dancing. I thought that might be a nice way to welcome father to Yar Nadrak –
and
let him know that he was getting his money’s worth.

He entered the front door unobtrusively. Father’s very good at unobtrusiveness. He seemed just a trifle surprised when he saw what I was doing. I definitely got his attention. Then, to entertain him, I exaggerated the performance just a bit. The tavern patrons started cheering, and father’s eyes hardened into a kind of possessive belligerence. What a dear man he was! He still cared for me, even as he had before Beldaran’s wedding. Three thousand years slipped away, and we were right back at the same place we’d been when I was only sixteen. My grip on him hadn’t slipped a bit.

I concluded my dance to deafening cheers and then strutted back to Gallak’s table. Father pushed his way through the crowd trying his best to conceal his pugnaciousness. ‘That’s quite a woman you’ve got there, friend,’ he observed. ‘Would you care to sell her?’

They exchanged a few wary pleasantries, and then we got down to some serious haggling about my price.

Father started out with an insultingly low bid, and I stepped in and countered with an absurdly high one. Then father raised his offer, and Gallak reduced his price. I started to get irritated when father stubbornly refused to go higher than ten bars of gold. What is this thing men have with the number ten? There’s nothing magic about it, is there?

Along toward the end, I once again added my own voice to Gallak’s. The ultimate price wasn’t really all that important. I just wanted to push my father off that ten. Eleven would have satisfied me, but Gallak surprised me by hold
ing out, and he and father eventually settled on twelve. That’s a fairly respectable price, I suppose. Father’s gold bars weigh ten ounces apiece, and a hundred and twenty ounces of gold – sixty of which would be mine – isn’t bad, I guess.

It was late summer by the time father and I left Yar Nadrak, and we traveled west at father’s usual pace, which ranges from a slow walk to a dead stop, and so it was autumn by the time we reached the range of high mountains which forms the spine of the continent. Father took a look at the turning leaves and the mountains lying ahead of us, and he picked up the pace a b t. By then, of course, it was too late. Winter’s been catching up with my father for eons now, and he always seems surprised and slightly offended when it does.

The blizzard which caught us on the eastern slopes of the mountains was fairly savage, and it howled around our makeshift shelter for three days. I’m rather proud of the fact that I didn’t once use the word ‘dawdling’ or the expression ‘poking along’ during our conversations in those three days.

Then we set out again, but it was obviously not getting us anywhere. The snow on level ground was about four feet deep, and the drifts were much deeper. ‘There’s no help for it, father,’ I said finally. ‘We’re going to have to change form and fly out of here.’

His refusal surprised me just a bit, and his excuse, ‘There might be Grolims around,’ was really very flimsy. If we went falcon, we could be over Drasnia long before any Grolim got to within five miles of our present location. We plodded on through the snow, and we must have covered almost an entire mile before that first blizzard’s second cousin swept in, forcing us to put up another rude shelter.

The wind howled all night, and about the middle of the next morning, we heard someone hail our makeshift little hut. ‘Hello, the camp,’ a voice called to us. ‘I’m coming in. Don’t get excited.’

He was old. My father’s old, but father seems to ignore it. This fur-garbed fellow in some peculiar way seemed to have outgrown it. His hair and beard were of that rare silvery-white, almost luminous color, and his eyes were of
a deep blue. I got the strange feeling that he saw everything. His face almost nestled in the deep fur of his collar, and his lushly-furred hat was nearly rakish. ‘Looks like you two got yourselves in trouble, didn’t you?’ he suggested humorously as he trudged up to our shelter.

‘We thought we could outrun it,’ father replied with some resignation.

‘Not much chance of that. These mountains are the natural home of snow. This is where it lives. Which way were you bound?’

‘Drasnia,’ father said.

‘I’d say you got a late start – too late. You won’t make Drasnia this winter.’ He sighed. ‘Well, there’s no help for it, I guess. You’d better winter with me. I’ve got a cave about a mile from here. Gather up your belongings and bring your horses. I guess I can put up with some company for one winter.’

Father accepted the invitation a bit too quickly. ‘We don’t really have much choice, Pol,’ he muttered to me as we packed our things in bundles to tie to our saddles.

I decided not make an issue of it, but we
did
in fact have a choice – the same choice we’d had since we left Yar Nadrak. Either my father was choosing to ignore it, or he was being encouraged to forget it. I spent the winter trying to figure out which.

The old fellow never did tell us what his name was. For all I could tell, he’d forgotten it. He told us that he’d spent his life up in these mountains looking for gold, but he didn’t seem particularly obsessed by it. He just liked the mountains.

His cave was really fairly comfortable. It was quite large, and he kept it neat and orderly. When we entered through the narrow opening, he stirred up his fire and then showed us where to put our horses. His donkey was there, and after a little while, the donkey and our horses became friends. The donkey, however, seemed more like a dog than a beast of burden. The old gold-hunter allowed – or encouraged – him to roam at will through the cave. That caused me a number of problems that winter. The donkey was a curious little beast, and he was forever getting in my way.
He absolutely
had
to see what I was doing. I think he liked me, because he was continually nuzzling me or gently butting me with his head. He loved to have his ears rubbed. I rather liked him, but I
didn’t
like being awakened every morning by his snuffling at my neck. What bothered me the most, however, was his stubborn insistence on watching me while I bathed. I knew it was absurd, but his watching always made me blush for some reason.

Father and the old man spent the winter talking without really saying anything. They obviously liked each other, though they really didn’t have much in common. After a while, I began to get a strong odor of tampering here. I don’t think it was anything particularly earth-shaking, but for some obscure reason father and I were
supposed
to spend some time with this old fellow. The thing that struck me the most about him was the fact that there was quite probably nobody in the entire world more free than this solitary old man in the mountains.

Every now and then when my life has become hectic, I’ll think back to that snowy winter, and a great peace seems to descend on me. Maybe that was the reason for our stay. It
has
helped me retain my sanity any number of times.

Spring finally came to the mountains, and father and I resumed our journey. ‘Did that make any sense to you, father?’ I asked when we were a few miles up the trail.

‘What was that, Pol?’ he asked, his face aglow with pleasant incomprehension.

I gave up. Quite obviously he hadn’t the faintest idea of what I was talking about. ‘Never mind,’ I sighed.

We reached Boktor about a week later, and the city still had a frightened, wary air about it. A pestilence had swept the country the preceding summer – one of those virulent diseases that strikes without warning, kills off about a third of the population, and then disappears as quickly as it had come. Had I not been so intent on returning to Annath, I might have investigated the disease in hopes of finding some remedy. The majority of humanity is carried off by one disease or another, and as a physician I find that offensive. Philosophically, however, I’m forced to admit its practicality. In the light of human fertility, there almost has
to be
some
means of controlling the population; and in the long run, disease is more humane than war or starvation.