Ce'Nedra, however, was staring disapprovingly at the breastplate Delban had made for her. It would quite obviously fit-too well. "Didn't you forget something?" she asked him.
He picked the breastplate up in his big hands and examined it. "It's all there," he told her. "Front, back, all the straps to hook them together. What else did you want?"
"Isn't it a trifle - understated?" Ce'Nedra suggested delicately.
"It's made to fit," he replied. "The understatement isn't my fault."
"I want it a little more-" She made a sort of curving gesture with her hands.
"What for?"
"Never mind what for. Just do it."
"What do you plan to put in it?"
"That's my business. Just do it the way I told you to."
He tossed a heavy hammer down on his anvil. "Do it yourself," he told her bluntly.
"Durnik," Ce'Nedra appealed to the smith.
"Oh, no, princess," Durnik refused. "I don't touch another man's tools. That just isn't done."
"Please, Delban," she wheedled.
"It's foolishness," he told her, his face set.
"It's important," she coaxed. "If I wear it like that, I'll look like a little boy. When people see me, they have to know that I'm a woman. It's terribly, terribly important. Couldn't you - well just a little bit?" She cupped her hands slightly.
Delban gave Durnik a disgusted look. "You had to bring her to my workshop, didn't you?"
"Everybody said you were the best," Durnik replied mildly.
"Just a little bit, Delban?" Ce'Nedra urged.
Delban gave up. "Oh, all right," he growled, picking up his hammer. "Anything to get you out of my shop - but not clear out to here." He made an exaggerated gesture.
"I'll depend on your good taste, Delban." She smiled, patting his cheek with a fond little laugh. "Shall we say tomorrow morning?"
The armor, Ce'Nedra decided the following morning as she inspected herself in the mirror, was perfect. "Well, what do you think, Adara?" she asked her friend.
"It looks very nice, Ce'Nedra," the tall girl replied, although a bit dubiously.
"It's just exactly right," Ce'Nedra said happily, turning so that the blue cape fastened to the shoulder pieces of the breastplate flared and swirled dramatically. The gleaming mail shirt she wore under the breastplate reached to her knees and wrists. The greaves covering her calves and the armguards reaching to her elbows were inlaid with brass; Delban had steadfastly refused the notion of gold. The armor did chafe a bit through the thick linen undershirt she wore, Ce'Nedra privately admitted, but she was prepared to accept that. She brandished her sword, studying the effect in her mirror.
"You're holding it wrong, Ce'Nedra," Adara suggested politely.
"Show me," Ce'Nedra said, handing over hex sword.
Adara took the weapon and gripped it firmly, its point low. She looked extremely competent.
"Where did you ever learn to do that?" Ce'Nedra asked her.
"We're given instruction," Adara replied, handing back the sword. "It's traditional."
"Help me on with my shield."
Between them, they managed to gird the princess in all her warlike equipment.
"How ever do you keep it from getting tangled up in your legs?" Ce'Nedra demanded, fumbling with the long scabbard at her waist.
"Hold on to the hilt," Adara told her. "Do you want me to go along?"
Ce'Nedra thought about that as she smoothed her hair and settled her plumed helmet more firmly in place. "I guess not," she decided rather reluctantly. "I think I'll have to face them alone. Do I really look all right?"
"You'll be fine," Adara assured her.
A sudden thought struck the princess. "What if they laugh?" she demanded in a frightened voice.
"You could draw your sword on them, I suppose," Adara replied gravely.
"Are you making fun of me, Adara?"
"Of course not, Princess," Adara answered with an absolutely straight face.
When Ce'Nedra reached the door to the council chamber, she drew in a deep breath and entered, once again without knocking. Knocking would have been inappropriate, suggesting somehow that she had doubts about her right to be there.
"Well, gentlemen?" she said to the assembled kings and generals as she stepped to the center of the room where they could all see her. King Rhodar rose politely. "Your Majesty," he greeted her, bowing.
"We were curious about your absence. The reason is now abundantly clear."
"Do you approve?" she could not help asking. She turned so they could all see her armor.
King Rhodar looked at her, his eyes speculative. "It is impressive, don't you think?" he said to the others. "Just the right touches in the right places. The Arends will flock to her, and the Tolnedrans - well, we'll have to see about the Tolnedrans."
King Anheg looked like a man having a serious struggle with himself. "Why do I feel that I'm being pushed into something?" he complained. "The very notion of this makes my blood cold, but I can't think of any rational arguments against it." He critically scrutinized Ce'Nedra. "She doesn't really look all that bad, does she?" he conceded grudgingly.
"It's absolutely unnatural, of course, but the armor does add something. This might even work."
"I'm so glad I meet with your Majesty's approval," Ce'Nedra almost gushed at him. She tried to curtsy, but her armor made that impossible. She gave a helpless little laugh and fluttered her eyelashes at the brutish-looking King of Cherek.
"Don't do that, Ce'Nedra," he told her irritably. "I'm having enough trouble with this as it is." He almost glared at her. "All right," he said finally, "as long as we all understand that she's not going to make any decisions, I'll go along with the idea. I don't like it much, but that's beside the point, I suppose." He stood up and bowed to her. "Your Majesty," he said, looking as if the words nearly choked him.
Ce'Nedra beamed at him and instinctively tried to respond to his bow.
"Don't bow, Ce'Nedra," he advised her with a pained look. "The Overlord of the West doesn't bow to anyone." He turned in exasperation to the King of Drasnia. "That isn't going to work, Rhodar. What are we going to call her? The Overlady of the West? We'll be the laughingstock of the twelve kingdoms if we do."
"We call her the Rivan Queen, my dear Anheg," King Rhodar replied urbanely. "And we break the head of any man who refuses to bow to her."