‘And did you recover your son, your Majesty?’ Salmissra asked Garion.
‘We did, your Majesty.’
‘Congratulations. Give my regards to your wife.’
‘I will, Salmissra.’
‘We must leave now,’ Polgara said. ‘Goodbye, Sadi.’
‘Goodbye, Lady Polgara.’ Sadi looked at Garion. ‘Goodbye, Garion,’ he said. ‘It’s been a lot of fun, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it has,’ Garion agreed, shaking the eunuch’s hand.
‘Say goodbye to the others for me. I rather imagine we’ll all see each other from time to time on state business, but it won’t be exactly the same, will it?’
‘No, probably not.’ Garion turned to follow Aunt Pol and Issus from the throne room,
‘A moment, Polgara,’ Salmissra said.
‘Yes?’
‘You’ve changed many things here. At first, I was very angry with you, but now I’ve had time to reconsider. Everything’s turned out for the best after all. You have my thanks.’
Polgara inclined her head.
‘Congratulations on your forthcoming blessing,’ Salmissra added.
Polgara’s face gave no hint of surprise at the Serpent Queen’s perception of her condition. ‘Thank you, Salmissra,’ she said.
They stopped off in Tol Honeth to deliver Emperor Varana to the palace. The heavy-shouldered professional soldier seemed a bit abstracted, Garion noticed. He spoke briefly with a palace functionary as the group moved toward his quarters, and the official scurried away.
Their farewells were brief, almost abrupt. Varana was, as always, the soul of courtesy, but he obviously had other things on his mind.
Ce’Nedra was fuming as they left the palace. She was, as she almost always was now, carrying her young son, and was absently running her fingers through his blond curls. ‘He was almost rude,’ she said indignantly.
Silk looked down the broad marble drive leading up to the palace. Spring was approaching in these northern latitudes, and the leaves were beginning to appear on the huge old trees lining the drive. A number of richly dressed Tolnedrans were almost running up the drive toward the palace. ‘Your uncle, – or brother, whichever you want to call him – has something very important to attend to just now,’ the little man told Ce’Nedra.
‘What could possibly be more important than common courtesy?’
‘Cthol Murgos, at the moment.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘If Zakath and Urgit work out a peace treaty, there’ll be all sorts of commercial opportunities in Cthol Murgos.’
‘I understand that,’ she said tartly.
‘Of course you do. You’re a Tolnedran, after all.’
‘Why aren’t you doing something about it?’
‘I already have, Ce’Nedra,’ he smiled, polishing a large ring on the front of his pearl gray doublet. ‘Varana may be very cross with me when he finally finds out what I’ve done to him.’
‘What exactly did you do?’
‘I’ll tell you once we’re back out to sea. You’re still a Borune and you might have some residual family loyalties. I wouldn’t want you to spoil the surprise for your uncle.’
They sailed north along the west coast, and then up the River Arend to the shallows a few leagues west of Vo Mimbre. Then they took to horse and rode through spring sunshine to the fabled city of the Mimbrate Arends.
The court of King Korodullin was thunderstruck by Mandorallen’s announcement that Mimbrate Arends had been discovered on the far side of the world. Courtiers and functionaries were sent scurrying off to various libraries to compose suitable replies to the greetings sent from King Oldorin.
The copy of the Accords of Dal Perivor delivered to the throne by Lelldorin, however, evoked troubled expressions on the faces of several of the more seasoned members of the court. ‘I do fear me, your Majesties,’ one elderly courtier observed to Korodullin and Mayaseran, ‘that our poor Arendia hath once more fallen behind the rest of the civilized world. Always in the past have we taken some comfort in the well-nigh eternal strife between Alorn and Angarak and the more recent conflict between Mallorean and Murgo, thinking perhaps that their discord in some measure excused ours. This scant comfort, methinks, will not long be available to us. Shall we let it be said that only in this most tragic of kingdoms doth rancor and rude war still prevail? How may we hold up our heads in a peaceful world so long as childish bickering and idiotic intestine war do mar our relationships with each other?’
‘I find thy words highly offensive, my Lord,’ a stiff-necked young baron denounced the old man. ‘No true Mimbrate could ever refuse to heed the stern urgings of honor.’
‘I speak not of Mimbrates only, my Lord,’ the old man replied mildly. ‘I speak of all Arends, Asturians as well as Mimbrates.’
‘Asturians have no honor,’ the baron sneered.
Lelldorin immediately went for his sword.
‘Nay, my young friend,’ Mandorallen said, restraining the impetuous youth. ‘the insult hath been delivered here – on Mimbrate soil. Thus it is my responsibility – and pleasure – to answer it.’ He stepped forward. ‘Thy words were perhaps hasty, my Lord,’ he said politely to the arrogant baron. ‘I pray thee, reconsider them.’
‘I have said what I have said, Sir Knight,’ the young hothead declared.
‘Thou hast spoken discourteously to a revered counsellor of the king,’ Mandorallen said firmly, ‘and thou hast delivered a mortal insult unto our brethren of the north.’
‘I have no Asturian brethren,’ the knight declared. ‘I do not deign to acknowledge kinship with miscreants and traitors.’
Mandorallen sighed. ‘I pray thee, forgive me, your Majesty,’ he apologized to the king. ‘Mayhap thou wouldst have the ladies withdraw, for I propose to speak bluntly.’
No force on earth, however, could have dragged the ladies of the court from the throne room at that time.
Mandorallen turned back toward the insolently sneering baron. ‘My Lord,’ the great knight said distantly, ‘I find thy face apelike and thy form misshapen. Thy beard, moreover, is an offense against decency, resembling more closely the scabrous fur which doth decorate the hinder portion of a mongrel dog than a proper adornment for a human face. Is it possible that thy mother, seized by some wild lechery, did dally at some time past with a randy goat?’