I looked around at the assembled kings and emissaries. ‘I’ll have an oath of silence on this, gentlemen,’ I said. ‘Those of you with ambassadorial rank can tell your rulers, but I don’t want this going any further.’ I gave them all a hard look, and they mumbled their agreement. ‘To put it very shortly,’ I told them, ‘the Rivan line did not die out when Gorek was killed. One of his grandsons survived. The line’s still intact, and someday one of that line will return to Riva and resume his throne. That’s the information that doesn’t leave this room. We’ve had enough trouble protecting those heirs without their existence becoming general knowledge.’
I’m not really positive that Mergon believed me, but Eldrig and the other Alorns were feeling muscular, so he behaved as if he believed. He really didn’t have anything to lose, after all. If I were lying to him, there’d never be a Rivan King to marry one of those precious imperial princesses, nor would anyone ever become Overlord of the West, so he went along with us, largely to pacify the Alorns, I believe.
Podiss, however, was another matter. Nyissans tend to be a little touchy about the fact that their kingdom is the only one ruled by a woman, and any kind of disparagement of Salmissra, real or imagined, raises screams of outrage. To put it rather bluntly, however, Nyissa doesn’t loom very large in the family of nations. It’s a swampy backwater with a small population and aside from the slave-trade, it doesn’t have much in the way of commerce. When it became more and more obvious that the accords weren’t even going to mention Nyissa, Podiss lost his temper. ‘And what of my queen, Eternal Salmissra?’ he demanded. ‘What voice will she have in this ordering of the world?’
‘Not a very loud one,’ Eldrig said, ‘at least not if I can help it, she won’t. She won’t have to do anything except sign the document, Podiss - that and keep her nose out of matters that don’t concern her.’ Eldrig wasn’t exactly what you’d call the soul of diplomacy.
‘I’ll have no further part in this,’ Podiss said, rising to his feet. ‘And I won’t insult my queen by carrying this absurdity to her. Write down anything you wish, gentlemen, but Salmissra won’t sign it.’
This was the point in his account of the conference where Davoul the Lame lost his head entirely. His epic blandly asserts that Polgara sprang to her feet, turned Podiss into a snake, changed herself into an owl, and carried him off into the sky. I think it was the fact that Davoul suddenly realized that he’d gone for ten whole pages without any magic that pushed him over the edge. Polgara did do something to Podiss, but it didn’t involve anything like that. It was probably a lot worse, but nobody else at the conference saw it. She simply went to where Podiss was standing and did much the same thing to him as she’d done to Eldallan in the Asturian forest. I haven’t any idea at all of what she showed him - he didn’t scream at all - but whatever it was made him pale and very cooperative.
It also persuaded Mergon to keep his objections to himself from then on.
It took us another day or so to finish the Accords of Vo Mimbre, and another day for a Mimbrate scribe to cast them into ‘high style.’ Since the Mimbrates were our hosts, it was only polite to let them produce the final version. When that was all finished, the Gorim took up his copy, rose to his feet and read to us. ‘These then are the Accords which we have reached here at Vo Mimbre. The nations of the west will prepare themselves for the return of the Rivan King, for in the day of his return shall Torak awaken and come again upon us, and none but the Rivan King may overcome him and save us from his foul enslavement. And whatsoever the Rivan King commands, that shall we do. And he shall have an Imperial Princess of Tolnedra to wife and shall have Empire and Dominion in the West. And whosoever breaketh these accords, will we do war upon him and scatter his people and pull down his cities and lay waste his lands. We pledge it here in honor of Brand, who hath overthrown Torak and bound him in sleep until the One comes who might destroy him. So be it.’
Eldrig leaned back in his chair. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘now that’s taken care of, I guess we can all go home.’
‘Not quite yet, your Majesty,’ Wildantor disagreed. ‘There’s still a royal wedding in the works.’
‘I’d almost forgotten about that,’ Eldrig said. ‘Are those two still screaming at each other?’
‘No,’ Pol told him. ‘The screaming stopped a few days ago. The last time I listened at the door, there was a lot of giggling going on. Evidently Mayaserana’s a bit ticklish.’
‘I wonder what they can be doing,’ the Gorim said mildly.
‘We can probably start our armies marching toward home,’ Rhodar put in. ‘Ordinary soldiers aren’t really very interested in royal weddings, and I’d like to have my pikemen at the Drasnian border before the end of summer.’
‘I can have my war-boats take them to Kotu, if you’d like,’ Eldrig offered.
‘Thanks all the same, Eldrig, but Drasnians aren’t very good sailors. I’m fairly sure that my pikemen would rather walk.’
Then Brand sent for Korodullin and Mayaserana. They were both blushing when they were escorted into his presence. ‘Have you two more or less settled your differences?’ he asked them.
‘We really should apologize, Lord Brand,’ Mayaserana said in a tone of sweet reasonableness and a rosy blush. ‘We both behaved very badly when you made that suggestion.’
‘Oh, that’s all right, Mayaserana,’ Brand forgave her. ‘I take it you’ve had a change of heart.’
‘The sweet light of reason hath opened our eyes, Lord Brand,’ Korodullin assured him, also blushing, ‘and our duty to Arendia hath touched our hearts and caused our animosity to fade. Though we still have our differences, we are both willing to set them aside for the sake of our homeland.’
‘I was almost certain you’d see it that way,’ Polgara said with a faint smile.
Mayaserana blushed again. ‘And when would you like to have us married, Lord Brand?’ she asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Brand replied. ‘Have either of you got anything urgent to take care of tomorrow?’
‘What’s wrong with today?’ she countered. Patience, it appeared, wasn’t Mayaserana’s strong suit, and she had things on her mind.
‘I think we could arrange that,’ Brand told her. ‘Somebody go get a priest of Chaldan.’
‘There might be a problem there, Lord Brand,’ Wildantor said dubiously. ‘Our priests are just as partisan as the rest of us. The priest might refuse to perform the ceremony.’
‘Not for very long, my friend,’ Mandor disagreed, ‘not if he values his continued good health.’
‘You’d actually hit a priest?’ Wildantor asked.
‘My duty to Arendia would compel it of me,’ Mandor said, ‘though it would of course, rend mine heart.’
‘Oh, of course. Let’s go find one, shall we? And you can explain things to him while we’re dragging him back here.’
And so Korodullin and Mayaserana were married, and Arendia was technically united. There was still a certain amount of bickering between Mimbrates and Asturians, of course, but the open battles more or less came to an end.
After the wedding, the kings of the west dispersed. We’d all been away from home for a long time, after all. Pol and I rode north with Brand as far as the Great Arendish Fair, and then we said our goodbyes and took the road leading toward the Ulgo border. ‘Will you be taking Gelane back to Aldurford?’ I asked her after we’d gone several miles.
‘No, father. I don’t think that’d be a good idea. A lot of Algar soldiers saw the two of us at Vo Mimbre, and some of them came from Aldurford. Someone might make the connection. I think we’d better start fresh somewhere.’
‘Where did you have in mind?’
‘I think I’ll go back to Sendaria. After Vo Mimbre, there aren’t going to be any Grolims around to worry about.’
‘That’s your decision, Pol. Gelane’s your responsibility, so whatever you decide is all right with me.’
‘Oh, thank you, father!’ she said it with a certain amount of sarcasm. ‘Oh, one other thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘Stay out of my hair, old wolf, and this time I mean it.’
‘Whatever you say, Polgara.’ I didn’t really mean it, of course, but I said it anyway. It was easier than arguing with her.
PART SIX
Garion
Chapter 43
There’s a peculiar dichotomy in the nature of almost anyone who calls himself a historian. They all piously assure us that they’re telling us the real truth about what really happened, but if you turn any competent historian over and look at his damp underside, you’ll find a story-teller, and you can believe me when I tell you that no story-teller’s ever going to tell a story without a few embellishments. Add to that the fact that we’ve all got assorted political and theological preconceptions that are going to color what we write, and you’ll begin to realize that no history of any event is entirely reliable - not even this one. What I’ve just told you about the Battle of Vo Mimbre is more or less true, but I’ll leave the business of separating the truth from the fiction up to you. It’ll sharpen your mind.