‘Moreover,’ I continued relentlessly, ‘thou shalt henceforth address me as “my Lady”. Shouldst the term “wench” cross thy lips once more, I will make certain that thou shalt regret it unto thy dying day.’ This blow took him straight in the mouth, and it knocked him out of his saddle. He came up spitting blood and teeth.
‘Have I perchance gained thine attention, knave?’ I asked him pleasantly. Then I murmured ‘sleep’ under my breath, and his eyes and the eyes of his sniggering men all went absolutely blank. I rode on with a faint smile, leaving the little group staring at the empty place where I’d just been. I left them in stasis for an hour or so, and by then Lady and I were several miles away. Then I sent my thought back to the place where they were. ‘Wake up,’ I told them.
They’d not been aware of the fact that they’d been napping, of course, so it appeared to them that I’d simply vanished. I learned somewhat later that the rude young noble had entered a monastery not long after our encounter, and that his men had all deserted and were nowhere to be found. At least one source of bad manners had been dried up in the Duchy of Wacune.
The city of Vo Wacune reared its loveliness out of the surrounding forest, and it absolutely took my breath away. I’ve never seen a city so beautiful. Vo Astur was almost as grey as Val Alorn, and Vo Mimbre is yellow. The Mimbrates call it ‘golden’, but that doesn’t hide the fact that it’s just plain old yellow. Vo Wacune was sheathed all in marble, even as Tol Honeth is. Tol Honeth, however, strives for grandeur, while Vo Wacune tried for – and achieved – beauty. Its slender towers soared white and gleaming toward a sky that smiled benevolently down on the most beautiful city in the world.
I paused in the forest to change clothes before I followed the gently winding road leading to the gates. I put on the blue velvet gown and cape I’d worn on ceremonial occasions on the Isle of the Winds, and as an after-thought I added a silver circlet – just to make the point that the term ‘wench’ wasn’t really appropriate.
The guards at the city gates were civil, and I entered Vo Wacune with father trailing along behind me trying to look inconspicuous.
My years on the Isle had taught me how to assume a commanding presence, and I was soon escorted to a large hall where the duke sat in semi-regal splendor. ‘Your Grace,’ I greeted him with a curtsey, ‘it is imperative that we speak privately. I must disclose my mind unto thee out of the hearing of others.’ I just adore archaic speech, don’t you?
‘That is not customary, Lady – ?’ he replied, fishing for my name. The duke was a handsome fellow with flowing brown hair, and he wore a regal purple velvet doublet and a circlet that stopped just short of being a crown.
‘I will identify myself unto thee when we are alone, your Grace,’ I advised him and went on to suggest the possibility of spies lurking in the background. Arends absolutely adore intrigue, so the duke walked right into that one. He rose, offered me his arm, and led me to a private chamber where we could talk. Father, in the form of a somewhat flea-bitten hound, trailed along behind us.
The duke escorted me to a pleasant room where filmy curtains billowed in the breeze coming in through the open windows. He shooed my father out, closed the door, and then turned to me. ‘And now, dear Lady,’ he said, ‘prithee disclose thy name unto me.’
‘My name’s Polgara, your Grace,’ I replied. ‘You may have heard of me.’ I deliberately dropped the archaic speech. Archaism, though quite lovely, has a tendency to lull the mind, and I wanted his Grace to be very alert.
“The daughter of Ancient Belgarath?’ He said it in a startled tone.
‘Exactly, your Grace.’ I was a little surprised to find that he knew of me. I probably shouldn’t have been. What some in the west refer to as ‘the brotherhood of sorcerers’ is the stuff of myth and legends, and Arends have a natural affinity for that sort of thing.
‘My poor house is overwhelmed that thou hast so graciously honored it with thy presence.’
I smiled at him. ‘Please, your Grace,’ I said in a slightly whimsical tone, ‘let’s not get carried away here. Your house is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and I’m the one who’s honored to be received here.’
“That was a little extravagant, wasn’t it?’ he admitted with a rueful unArendish candor. Thy statement, however, startled me, and I fell back on extravagance to cover my confusion. To what do we owe the pleasure of thy divine company?’
‘Hardly divine, your Grace. You’ve been receiving some bad advice lately. There’s a Tolnedran merchant here in Vo Wacune who’s been telling you that he speaks for Ran Vordue, but he’s lying. Ran Vordue probably doesn’t even know him. The house of Vordue is not offering you an alliance.’
‘I had thought my discussions with the merchant Haldon were most private, Lady Polgara.’
‘I have certain advantages, your Grace. Things here in Arendia have a habit of changing almost hourly, so perhaps you could tell me with whom you’re currently at war.’
‘The Asturians – this week,’ he replied wryly. ‘Should that war chance to grow boring, we can always find some excuse to declare war on Mimbre, I suppose. We haven’t had a good war with the Mimbrates for nearly two years now.’ I was almost certain that he was joking.
‘Are there any alliances?’ I asked.
‘We have a rather tentative agreement with the Mimbrates,’ he replied. ‘The Mimbrates have no more reason to be fond of Asturians than do we. If truth be known, however, my alliance with Corrolin of Mimbre is little more than an agreement that he will not attack my southern border whilst I deal with that wretched little drunkard, Oldoran of Asturia. I had hopes of an alliance with Tolnedra, but if thine information should prove true, those hopes are dashed.’ He slammed his fist down on the table. ‘What doth Haldon hope to achieve by this deception?’ he blurted out. ‘Why would he bring this spurious offer from his emperor?’
‘Ran Vordue isn’t Haldon’s master, your Grace. Haldon speaks for Ctuchik.’
‘The Murgo?’
‘Ctuchik’s lineage is a little more complicated than that, but let it pass for now.’
‘Of what concern are Arendish internal affairs to the Murgos?’
‘Arendish internal affairs concern everyone, your Grace. Your poor Arendia’s an ongoing disaster, and disasters have a way of spreading. In this case, though, Ctuchik wants the strife to spread. He wants confusion here in the west to open the door for his Master.’