In the second hour past noon, I had to come up with a way to keep the duke at home. I solved that by fortifying the wine he was drinking as he sprawled on his throne. By the third hour, he was comatose.
The ‘Tolnedran’ at his elbow began to have a few suspicions at that point, I think, but we were moving too rapidly for him by now.
Our scheme was ridiculously simple. When you’re dealing with Arends, you should always try to avoid complexity. Every courtier in the palace had a number of ‘valets’, ‘grooms’, ‘butlers’, and the like in his entourage. Since this was Arendia, these ‘servants’ all had assorted weapons concealed about their persons, and they’d respond immediately to commands even though they didn’t know what was going on. We had plenty of manpower should we need it, but once those who might oppose us had trooped across town to Marquis Torandin’s party, our only opposition might come from the duke’s own bodyguards, and tampering with the wine served to them with their evening meal would neatly get them out from underfoot. The imitation Tolnedran quite probably had a few bully-boys at his disposal, but our superior numbers made us confident that they wouldn’t pose much of a problem. Our excuse for deposing Oldoran would be ‘his Grace’s sudden illness’. There was nothing really ‘sudden’ about it. Oldoran had spent years head-down in a wine barrel to achieve his current condition.
Not long before supper, I took Asrana and Mangaran back out into the rose garden to hammer down some last-minute details. ‘Don’t kill him,’ I instructed them very firmly. ‘Everything will fly apart if you do. I want everybody to pull a long face when we do this. Pretend to be concerned about Oldoran’s health.’ I looked at Mangaran. ‘Did you speak with the abbot?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘He’s got everything ready. Oldoran will have pleasant quarters in the monastery and all the wine he can possibly drink. The abbot will issue periodic statements about his Grace’s condition – which will probably deteriorate as time goes by.’
‘Don’t do anything to help that along,’ I cautioned. ‘Let Oldoran’s liver take him off.’
‘How long’s that likely to take, Polly?’ Asrana asked me.
‘I’d give him about another six months,’ I replied. “The whites of his eyes are already yellow. His liver’s turning to stone. He’ll start raving before long, and that’s when you’ll want to start taking his supporters to see him. Let them observe his condition for themselves.’
‘Are you the one who’s making his liver go bad, Polly?’ Asrana asked.
‘No. He’s done that all by himself.’
‘Does wine really do that to people?’
‘Oh, yes, dear. You might want to think about that.’
‘Maybe I’d better cut back just a little bit,’ she said with a slightly worried frown.
‘I would. It’s your liver, though. Now, then, I want you two to circulate among our “patriots”. Impress upon them the fact that we’re doing this regretfully. We don’t want to do it, but we have no choice. Our revolution grows out of our love for Asturia.’
‘That’s not entirely true, Lady Polgara,’ Mangaran told me candidly.
‘Lie about it, then. Good politics are always based on lies. When you make these speeches, always be sure there are people in the crowd to lead the cheering. Don’t leave anything to chance.’
‘You’re a terrible cynic, Polly,’ Asrana accused.
‘Possibly, but I can live with it. Pressing right along, then. After the duke’s safely tucked away in that monastery, talk with some of the local barons. I want lots of armed men in the streets of Vo Astur by morning. Caution the barons that I want their troops to be polite. No looting, no murders, no fires, no incidental rapes. They’ll be out there to maintain order and nothing else. I’ll decide what’s disorderly. Let’s not give the opposition any excuses for counter-revolution. Oh, one other thing. Tomorrow morning, an old man with white hair and wearing a white robe is going to come here to the palace. He’s going to make a speech, and I want everybody here at court – drunk or sober – to hear that speech. He’s going to tell everybody that what we’ve done has been done at his specific orders. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble after that.’
‘Who in all this world has that much authority?’ Mangaran asked, looking slightly startled.
‘My father, naturally.’
‘Holy Belgarath himself?’ Asrana gasped.
‘I wouldn’t tack “holy” onto him until after you’ve met him, dear,’ I advised. ‘And I wouldn’t turn my back on him, if I were you. He has an eye for the ladies and a little difficulty in keeping his hands to himself.’
‘Really?’ she said archly. ‘What an interesting idea.’ Asrana, it appeared, was worse than I thought.
‘Did you find my archer, Mangaran?’ I asked the earl.
‘Yes, Lady Polgara,’ he replied. ‘His name’s Lammer, and he can thread a needle with an arrow at a hundred paces.’
‘Good. I’ll want to speak with him before we set things in motion.’
‘Ah–’ Mangaran said a bit tentatively, ‘just exactly when’s that going to be, Lady Polgara?’ he asked.
‘When I come into the throne room this evening, my Lord. That’ll be your signal to start.’
‘I’ll watch for you,’ he promised.
‘Do that. Now, let’s get to work.’
I lingered in the rose garden until they’d left. ‘All right, father,’ I said, speaking to a decorative lemon tree, ‘you can come down now.’
He looked just a bit foolish after he’d flown down and resumed his real form. ‘How did you know I was around?’ he asked.
‘Don’t be tiresome, father. You know perfectly well that you can’t hide from me. I always know when you’re around.’ I paused. ‘Well? What do you think?’
‘I think you’re taking a lot of chances, and you’re moving too fast.’
‘I have to move fast, father. I can’t be certain just who’s in that Murgo’s pocket.’
‘That’s exactly my point. You’re hanging your whole scheme on the two who just left, and you only met them this morning. Are you sure they can be trusted?’
I treated him to one of those long-suffering sighs. ‘Yes, father,’ I replied, ‘I’m sure. Mangaran has a lot to gain, and he does have a few faint tinges of patriotism lurking around his edges.’