‘At once, Lord Brand!’ Torgun replied, saluting smartly.
‘Ah, Elthek,’ I said sweetly to the crestfallen clergyman.
‘What?’ his response was surly.
‘Have a nice voyage, and I do hope you’ll enjoy your new home and your new occupation.’
And that was the last time that the Bear-Cult reared its head on the Isle of the Winds. It’s been some three thousand years and more since Elthek and his cohorts took up subsistence farming on those rocky little islets, and even though they’re Alorns, the Rivans took Daran’s lesson very much to heart. The notion of spading bird manure into rocky soil in order to eke out a miserable existence doesn’t appeal to very many people, and those wind-swept islets will always be there – waiting.
The following spring came late, and I began to grow more and more restless. Then, late one night when a wind-driven rain-storm tore at the towers of the Citadel and I tossed restlessly in my bed, mother’s thought came to me. ‘Polgara,’ she said, ‘don’t you think it’s about time for Daran to get married?’
To be quite honest about it, my mother’s question startled me, since I still – irrationally, I suppose – thought of my nephew as a child. To concede that he was growing up would have further separated me from Beldaran, I guess. Everybody has these little lapses.
The next day, however, when Daran, Kamion and I met for our usual discussion of the state of the kingdom, I rather closely examined my nephew and was forced to admit that mother was probably right. Daran had sandy blond hair, and fair-haired people always seem to look younger than brunettes do. He was a muscular young man, though, and wrestling with the chores of his regency had given him a maturity far beyond his years.
‘Why are you looking at me that way, Aunt Pol?’ he asked curiously.
‘Oh, no particular reason. I think you missed a spot under your chin while you were shaving this morning, is all.’
He ran his fingers up and down his neck. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘it is a little furry down there, isn’t it? Do you think I should grow a beard?’
‘No,’ I told him, ‘definitely not. There are enough shaggy people around here already. Now, then, what are we going to do about this shortage of priests? Most of them are up north with Elthek.’
‘We can get along without priests, Aunt Pol. The priests of Belar always seem to get Bear-Cult ideas, for some reason, and I don’t want to go through that again.’
‘We need priests, Daran.’
‘What for?’
To perform weddings and funerals,’ I told him rather bluntly. ‘Young people here on the Isle are beginning to find alternatives to marriage, and that should probably be discouraged, wouldn’t you say? I’m sure it’s all very entertaining, but it does tend to erode the morals of your people, don’t you agree?’
He actually blushed about that.
‘Why don’t you let me take care of the problem, your Highness?’ Kamion suggested. ‘We could recruit priests of Belar in Cherek and Drasnia, but that might just reintroduce the Bear-Cult here on the Isle. I’ll talk with the palace chaplain about it, and we can probably set up a theological seminary in the temple. Ill lay out the curriculum, though, so we can be fairly sure that unorthodoxy doesn’t creep in.’
‘You’re the scholar, Kamion,’ Daran shrugged. ‘Do whatever you think best.’ He looked at the window where midmorning light streamed into the room. ‘What hour would you say it is?’ he asked me. ‘I’ve got an appointment with my tailor this morning.’
‘It’s the fourth hour past dawn, dear,’ I told him.
‘It seems later for some reason.’
Trust me, Daran.’
‘Of course, Aunt Pol.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I’ll be back after lunch.’ He flexed his arms. ‘This doublet’s getting a little tight across the shoulders. Maybe my tailor can let it out a bit.’ Then he crossed to the door and left the room.
‘Kamion,’ I said.
‘Yes, Pol?’
‘Let’s find him a wife. Bachelorhood’s habit-forming, I’ve noticed.’
Kamion burst out laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘I’ve never heard it put that way before, Pol. Why don’t I draw up a list of all the eligible – and unattached – young noblewomen here?’
‘Not just the noblewomen, Kamion,’ I told him quite firmly.
‘Is the prince allowed to marry a commoner?’ Kamion seemed startled.
‘He’s allowed to marry anyone I tell him to marry, Kamion,’ I said. ‘We’re dealing with a very unusual family here, so normal rules don’t apply. We won’t be choosing Daran’s wife. That decision’s going to come from someone else.’
‘Oh? Who?’
‘I’m not at liberty to discuss it – and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘One of those things?’ he asked with some distaste.
‘Exactly. Get started on your list while I get some instructions.’
He sighed.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I hate this, Pol. I like for things to be rational.’
Then it was my turn to laugh. ‘Do you actually believe that the process of love and marriage is rational, Kamion? We humans aren’t exactly like birds attracted to a display of bright feathers, but we come very close. Trust me in this, my friend.’
‘You’re using that phrase quite a lot this morning, Pol.’
‘If you and Daran would just listen to me, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself so often. Run along now, Kamion, I’ve got work to do.’
I returned to my rooms and went looking for mother with my mind.
‘Yes, Polgara?’ her thought came to me.
‘Kamion’s seeking out all of the eligible young women on the Isle, mother. How do we determine which of them to choose?’
‘You’ll know – and so will Daran.’
‘We aren’t going to let him make the decision, are we? He’s a nice boy, but this is important.’
She actually laughed. ‘Just bring them into the Hall of the Rivan King one by one, Pol,’ she told me. ‘You’ll know immediately – and so will Daran.’
And so we did it that way. Our approach wasn’t really very subtle. Kamion let it be generally known that Daran was looking for a wife – although that was probably the furthest thing from the Prince Regent’s mind. The young women on the Isle were paraded, one by one, before the throne in the Hall of the Rivan King. They all wore their finest clothing, and each of them was given about five minutes to try to snare our increasingly nervous – even frightened – young man.