The servant glanced around the room to make sure everything was in order, then came to the bed with a no-nonsense expression. Garion burrowed quickly back under the covers.
"Breakfast, your Majesty," the servant announced firmly, drawing the curtains open and tying them back.
Garion sighed. Quite obviously, decisions about staying in bed were not his to make. "Thank you," he replied.
"Does your Majesty require anything else?" the servant asked solicitously, holding open a robe for Garion to put on.
"Uh-no-not right now, thank you," Garion answered, climbing out of the royal bed and down the three carpeted steps leading up to it. The servant helped him into the robe, then bowed and quietly left the room. Garion went to the table, seated himself, lifted the cover from the tray, and assaulted breakfast vigorously.
When he had finished eating, he sat for a time in a large, blue-upholstered armchair looking out the window at the snowy crags looming above the city. The storm that had raked the coast for days had blown off - at least for the moment; the winter sun was bright, and the morning sky very blue. The young Rivan King stared for a time out his window, lost in thought.
Something nagged at the back of his memory - something he had heard once but had since forgotten. It seemed that there was something he ought to remember that involved Princess Ce'Nedra. The tiny girl had fled from the Hall of the Rivan King almost immediately after the sword had so flamboyantly announced his identity the previous day. He was fairly sure that it was all mixed together. Whatever it was that he was trying to recall had been directly involved in her flight. With some people it might be better to let things quiet down before clearing the air, but Garion knew that this was not the proper way to deal with Ce'Nedra. Things should never be allowed to fester in her mind. That only made matters worse. He sighed and began to dress.
As he walked purposefully through the corridors, he met with startled looks and hasty bows. He soon realized that the events of the preceding day had forever robbed him of his anonymity. Someone Garion could never catch a glimpse of his face - even went so far as to follow him, probably in the hope of performing some service. Whoever it was kept a discrete distance behind, but Garion caught occasional glimpses of him far back along the corridor - a gray-cloaked man who moved on strangely noiseless feet. Garion did not like being followed, whatever the reason, but he resisted the urge to turn around and tell the man to go away.
The Princess Ce'Nedra had been given several rooms just down the hall from Aunt Pol's apartments, and Garion steeled himself as he raised his hand to rap on the door.
"Your Majesty," Ce'Nedra's maid greeted him with a startled curtsy.
"Would you please ask her Highness if I might have a word with her?" Garion asked.
"Certainly, your Majesty," the girl replied and darted into the next chamber.
There was a brief murmur of voices and then Ce'Nedra swept into the room. She wore a plain gown, and her face was as pale as it had been the previous day. "Your Majesty," she greeted him in an icy voice, and then she curtsied, a stiff little curtsy that spoke whole volumes.
"Something's bothering you," Garion said bluntly. "Would you like to get it out in the open?"
"Whatever your Majesty wishes," she replied.
"Do we have to do this?"
"I can't imagine what your Majesty is talking about."
"Don't you think we know each other well enough to be honest?"
"Of course. I suppose I'd better accustom myself to obeying your Majesty immediately."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't pretend that you don't know," she flared.
"Ce'Nedra, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." She looked at him suspiciously, then her eyes softened just a bit.
"Perhaps you don't at that," she murmured. "Have you ever read the Accords of Vo Mimbre?"
"You taught me how to read yourself," he reminded her, "about six or eight months ago. You know every book I've read. You gave me most of them yourself."
"That's true, isn't it?" she said. "Wait just a moment. I'll be right back." She went briefly into the adjoining room and returned with a rolled parchment. "I'll read it to you," she told him. "Some of the words are a little difficult."
"I'm not that stupid," he objected.
But she had already begun to read. " `-And when it shall come to pass that the Rivan King returns, he shall have Lordship and Dominion, and swear we all fealty to him as Overlord of the Kingdoms of the West. And he shall have an Imperial Princess of Tolnedra to wife, and-"'
"Wait a minute," Garion interrupted her with a strangled note in his voice.
"Was there something you didn't understand? It all seems quite clear to me."
"What was that last part again?"
"-`he shall have an Imperial Princess of Tolnedra to wife, and"'
"Are there any other princesses in Tolnedra?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then that means-" He gaped at her.
"Precisely." She said it like a steel trap suddenly snapping shut.
"Is that why you ran out of the Hall yesterday?"
"I did not run."
"You don't want to marry me." It was almost an accusation.
"I didn't say that."
"Then you do want to marry me?"
"I didn't say that either - but it doesn't really matter, does it? We don't have any choice at all - neither one of us."
"Is that what's bothering you?"
Her look was lofty. "Of course not. I've always known that my husband would be selected for me."
"What's the problem, then?"
"I'm an Imperial Princess, Garion."
"I know that."
"I'm not accustomed to being anyone's inferior."
"Inferior? To who - whom?"
"The Accords state that you are the Overlord of the West."
"What does that mean?"
"It means, your Majesty, that you outrank me."
"Is that all that's got you so upset?"
Her look was like a drawn dagger. "With your Majesty's permission, I believe I'd like to withdraw." And without waiting for an answer, she swept from the room.
Garion stared after her. This was going too far. He considered going immediately to Aunt Pol to protest, but the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that she would be totally unsympathetic. Too many little things began to click together all at once. Aunt Pol was not merely a party to this absurd notion; she had actively done everything in her power to make absolutely sure that there was no escape for him. He needed someone to talk to - someone devious enough and unscrupulous enough to think a way out of this. He left Ce'Nedra's sitting room and went looking for Silk.