Polgara the Sorceress

‘I knew that he’d eventually be useful for something, mother. I’m not sure that taking all the risks will warm his heart very much, though.’

‘What a shame.’

We settled onto the battlements of Aldorigen’s palace shortly after midnight. ‘Run along, Pol,’ mother suggested. ‘I’ll go back out and keep an eye on things while you report to your father.’

‘Run along’? Sometimes mother’s use of language can be very deflating. That ‘run along’ had the strong odor of ‘go out and play’.

I detached myself from our owl and resumed my own form even as mother swooped away.

My report to father and the twins was far from complete. I made no mention of Torak’s mistaken conclusion that his opponent in the forthcoming duel was going to be Gelane. Father tends to make things up as he goes along, and that made me very nervous. Gelane was safe at the Stronghold, and I wanted him to stay safe. My father’s a very gifted performer, but it’s not a good idea to just push him out on to the stage and let him improvise. Overacting is second nature to him, and the notion of bringing Gelane to Vo Mimbre to display him atop the battlements for Torak’s entertainment at the height of the battle might have been dramatic, but it would also put my youthful charge in great danger. As long as father didn’t know what Torak believed, he’d have no reason to start getting creative. I learned a long time ago not to tell father any more than he absolutely needed to know.

I did, however, tell him that Torak hadn’t once left his rusty tin bucket of a palace since he’d crossed the land bridge. Father probably didn’t need to know that, but the fact that Torak was staying in isolation might help to stem his inventiveness.

‘You might want to keep something in mind for future reference, father,’ I added. Torak’s disciples aren’t at all like us. We’re a family, but they aren’t. Zedar, Urvon, and Ctuchik hate each other with a passion that’s almost holy. Zedar was having a great deal of trouble keeping his gloating under control while he was talking with Torak. Urvon and Ctuchik are currently in disfavor, and that makes Zedar the c**k of the walk. He’s going to try to consolidate that by delivering Vo Mimbre to Torak in one day. He’ll throw everything he’s got at us tomorrow. Torak might abide by the prohibitions laid down by the Necessities, but I don’t think we can be sure that Zedar won’t break the rules.’

‘That’s the story of Zedar’s life, Pol,’ father grunted sourly. ‘He’s made a career out of breaking the rules. What else were the two of them talking about?’

‘Their instructions, for the most part. Evidently the Ashabine Oracles gave Torak far more in the way of details than the Mrin Codex gives us. The third day of this little confrontation’s going to be very important, father. The legions absolutely must be here, because their presence will force Torak to accept Brand’s challenge.’

His eyes brightened. ‘Well, now,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that interesting?’

‘Don’t start gloating, father. Torak’s ordered Zedar to throw everything they’ve got at Vo Mimbre. If they can take the city, the advantage swings back to them. Once we go past that third day, we’ll be looking at an entirely different EVENT, and we don’t want that at all.’

‘Are they going to try to delay Eldrig’s war-boats?’ Beltira asked.

‘Zedar suggested it, but Torak said no. He doesn’t want to split his forces. How long is it until morning?’

‘Three or four hours,’ father replied.

‘I’ll have time for a bath, then.’

Father rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

Dawn stained the sky off to the west, but Zedar was obviously waiting for specific instructions before launching his attack. Then, as the rim of the sun peeped up over the Ulgo mountains, a home-blast came from the iron pavilion, and Zedar’s siege engines, all in unison, whipped forward to hurl a huge shower of rocks upon the city, and that began the battle of Vo Mimbre.

There was the usual adjusting of the catapults until the rocks were all hitting the walls instead of being scattered all over the city. Then things settled down into the tedious thudding of rocks smashing into the walls.

We could clearly see the Angarak troops massing at some distance behind the catapults. Still father waited. Then, about mid-morning, he ordered Wildantor to respond. The Asturian archers raised their bows and loosed their arrows in unison. The hail-storm of steel-tipped arrows fell onto the Thulls manning the siege-engines, and the bombardment of the walls stopped instantly. The surviving Thulls fled back into the teeth of the massed Angaraks, leaving their siege-engines unmanned and unprotected.

That was when Mandor signaled his mounted knights at the north gate. The gate opened, and the knights charged out, armed with battle axes rather than lances. When they returned, Zedar’s siege-engines had all been reduced to kindling-wood.

I found the sound of Torak’s screams of rage and disappointment rather charming, actually. Evidently the idea that we might retaliate against his attacks had never occurred to him – as his childish temper-tantrum clearly demonstrated. Had he actually thought that we’d just meekly hand the city over to him just because he wanted it? I rather imagine that Zedar’s life hung by a thread at that point. Desperately, and obviously without thinking, he ordered a frontal assault on that north gate. The assault melted under a storm of arrows, and those few Angaraks who reached the walls were drenched with boiling pitch and then set on fire. The sun went down, and the first day was over. We were still safely inside the walls, and Zedar was obliged to return to Torak’s palace to report his failure. Mother and I both wanted to eavesdrop on that particular conversation.

As smoky evening settled over Vo Mimbre, mother and I merged again and flew on silent wings over the wreckage of Angarak to the place where Torak’s rusty palace stood.

‘Methinks I have erred, Zedar,’ Torak was saying ominously when we wriggled through our favorite little window. ‘An Angarak disciple would not have failed me so miserably this day. Should I summon Ctuchik or Urvon to replace thee?’

Zedar choked a bit on that. ‘Prithee, Master,’ he begged. ‘Permit me to redeem myself in thine eyes. I do now perceive mine error. Mine engines were not equal to the task I set them. I shall begin anew, and by first light shall engines invincible be at mine immediate disposal. Vo Mimbre is doomed, Master.’