With a superhuman effort, Mandorallen jerked his arms together. Ce'Nedra heard the cracking of bones with a sickening clarity, and an enormous fountain of blood erupted from the cat's mouth. The young lion's body quivered, and his head dropped. Mandorallen unclenched his locked hands, and the dead beast slid limply from his grasp to the ground at his feet.
Stunned, the princess stared at the stupendous man in blood-smeared and clawed armor standing before her. She had just witnessed the impossible. Mandorallen had killed a lion with no weapon but his mighty arms-and all for her!
Without knowing why, she found herself crowing with delight. "Mandorallen!" She sang his name. "You are my knight!"
Still panting from his efforts, Mandorallen pushed up his visor. His blue eyes were wide, as if her words had struck him with a stunning impact. Then he sank to his knees before her. "Your Highness," he said in a choked voice, "I pledge to thee here upon the body of this beast to be thy true and faithful knight for so long as I have breath."
Deep inside her, Ce'Nedra felt a profound sort of click - the sound of two things, fated from time's beginning to come together, finally meeting. Something - she did not know exactly what - but something very important had happened there in that sun-dappled glade.
And then Barak, huge and imposing, came galloping up the trail with Hettar at his side and the others not far behind. "What happened?" the big Cherek demanded, swinging down from his horse.
Ce'Nedra waited until they had all reined in to make her announcement. "The lion there attacked me," she said, trying to make it sound like an everyday occurrence. "Mandorallen killed him with his bare hands."
"I was in fact wearing these, Highness," the still-kneeling knight reminded her, holding up his gauntleted fists.
"It was the bravest thing I've ever seen in my life," Ce'Nedra swept on.
"Why are you down on your knees?" Barak asked Mandorallen. "Are you hurt?"
"I have just made Sir Mandorallen my very own knight," Ce'Nedra declared, "and as is quite proper, he knelt to receive that honor from my hands." From the corner of her eye she saw Garion in the act of sliding down from his horse. He was scowling like a thundercloud. Silently, Ce'Nedra exulted. Leaning forward then, she placed a sisterly kiss on Mandorallen's brow. "Rise, Sir Knight," she commanded, and Mandorallen creaked to his feet.
Ce'Nedra was enormously pleased with herself.
The remainder of the day passed without incident. They crossed a low range of hills and came down into a little valley as the sun settled slowly into a cloudbank off to the west. The valley was watered by a small stream, sparkling and cold, and they stopped there to set up their night's encampment. Mandorallen, in his new role as knight-protector, was suitably attentive, and Ce'Nedra accepted his service graciously, casting occasional covert glances at Garion to be certain that he was noticing everything.
Somewhat later, when Mandorallen had gone to see to his horse and Garion had stomped off to sulk, she sat demurely on a moss-covered log congratulating herself on the day's accomplishments.
"You're playing a cruel game, Princess," Durnik told her bluntly from the spot a few feet away where he was building a fire.
Ce'Nedra was startled. So far as she could remember, Durnik had never spoken directly to her since she had joined the party. The smith was obviously uncomfortable in the presence of royalty and, indeed, seemed actually to avoid her. Now, however, he looked straight into her face, and his tone was reproving.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she declared.
"I think you do." His plain, honest fact was serious, and his gaze was steady.
Ce'Nedra lowered her eyes and flushed slowly.
"I've seen village girls play this same game," he continued. "Nothing good ever comes of it."
"I'm not trying to hurt anybody, Durnik. There isn't really anything of that sort between Mandorallen and me - we both know that."
"Garion doesn't."
Ce'Nedra was amazed. "Garion?"
"Isn't that what it's all about?"
"Of course not!" she objected indignantly. Durnik's look was profoundly skeptical.
"Such a thing never entered my mind," Ce'Nedra rushed on. "It's absolutely absurd."
"Really?"
Ce'Nedra's bold front collapsed. "He's so stubborn," she complained. "He just won't do anything the way he's supposed to."
"He's an honest boy. Whatever else he is or might become, he's still the plain, simple boy he was at Faldor's farm. He doesn't know the rules of the gentry. He won't lie to you or flatter you or say things he doesn't really feel. I think something very important is going to happen to him before very long - I don't know what - but I do know it's going to take all his strength and courage. Don't weaken him with all this childishness."
"Oh, Durnik," she said with a great sigh. "What am I going to do?"
"Be honest. Say only what's in your heart. Don't say one thing and mean another. That won't work with him."
"I know. That's what makes it all so difficult. He was raised one way, and I was raised another. We're never going to get along." She sighed again.
Durnik smiled, a gentle, almost whimsical smile. "It's not all that bad, Princess," he told her. "You'll fight a great deal at first. You're almost as stubborn as he is, you know. You were born in different parts of the world, but you're not really all that different inside. You'll shout at each other and shake your fingers in each others' faces; but in time that will pass, and you won't even remember what you were shouting about. Some of the best marriages I know of started that way."
"Marriage!"
"That's what you've got in mind, isn't it?"
She stared at him incredulously. Then she suddenly laughed. "Dear, dear Durnik," she said. "You don't understand at all, do you?"
"I understand what I see," he replied. "And what I see is a young girl doing everything she possibly can to catch a young man."
Ce'Nedra sighed. "That's completely out of the question, you know - even if I felt that way - which of course I don't."
"Naturally not." He looked slightly amused.
"Dear Durnik," she said again, "I can't even allow myself such thoughts. You forget who I am."
"That isn't very likely," he told her. "You're usually very careful to keep the fact firmly in front of everybody."
"Don't you know what it means?"