The baron went livid and he spluttered, unable to speak.
‘Thou seemeth wroth, my Lord,’ Mandorallen said to him in that same deceptively mild tone, ‘or mayhap thine unseemly breeding hath robbed thy tongue of human speech.’ He looked critically at the baron. ‘I do perceive, my Lord, that thou art afflicted with cowardice as well as lack of breeding, for, in truth, no man of honor would endure such deadly insult as those which I have delivered unto thee without some response. Therefore, I fear I must goad thee further.’ He removed his gauntlet.
As all the world knew, it was customary to hurl one’s gauntlet to the floor when issuing a challenge. Mandorallen somehow missed the floor. The young baron staggered backward, spitting teeth and blood. ‘Thou art no longer a youth, Sir Mandorallen,’ he raged. ‘Long hast thou used thy questionable reputation to avoid combat. Methinks it is time for thee to be truly tried.’
‘It speaks,’ Mandorallen said with feigned astonishment. ‘Behold this wonder, My Lords and Ladies – a talking dog.’
The court laughed at that.
‘Let us proceed to the lower court, My Lord of Fleas,’ Mandorallen continued. ‘Mayhap a pass at arms with so elderly and feeble a knight shall give thee entertainment.’
The next ten minutes were very long for the insolent young baron. Mandorallen, who could undoubtedly have split him down the middle with one stroke, toyed with him instead, inflicting numerous painful and humiliating injuries. None of the bones the great knight broke were absolutely essential, however, and none of the cuts and contusions were incapacitating. The baron reeled about, trying desperately to protect himself as Mandorallen skillfully peeled his armor off him in chunks and pieces. Finally, apparently growing bored with the whole business, the champion of Arendia broke both of the young man’s shinbones with a single stroke. The baron howled with pain as he fell.
‘Prithee, my Lord,’ Mandorallen chided, ‘modulate thy shrieks of anguish, lest thou alarm the ladies. Groan quietly, an it please thee, and keep this unseemly writhing to a minimum.’ He turned sternly to a hushed and even frightened crowd. ‘And, he added, ‘should any other here share this rash youth’s prejudices, let him speak now, ’ere I sheath my sword, for truly, it is fatigueing to draw the weapon again and again.’ He looked around. ‘Let us proceed then, my Lords, for this foolishness doth weary me, and presently I shall grow irritable.’
Whatever their views were, the knights of the royal court chose at that point to keep them to themselves.
Ce’Nedra gravely stepped out into the courtyard. ‘My knight,’ she said proudly to Mandorallen. Then her eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘I do perceive that thy prowess doth remain undiminished even though cruel eld doth palsy thy limbs and snow down silvery hair upon thy raven locks.’
‘Eld?’ Mandorallen protested.
‘I’m only teasing, Mandorallen,’ she laughed. ‘Put away your sword. No one else wants to play with you today.’
They bade farewell to Mandorallen, Lelldorin, and Relg, who intended to return to Taiba and their children in Maragor from Vo Mimbre.
‘Mandorallen!’ King Anheg bellowed as they rode away from the city, ‘when winter gets here, come up to Val Alorn, and we’ll take Barak and go boar-hunting.’
‘I surely will, your Majesty,’ Mandorallen promised from the battlements.
‘I like that man,’ Anheg said expansively.
They took ship again and sailed north to the city of Sendar to advise King Fulrach of the Accords of Dal Perivor. Silk and Velvet were to sail north on Seabird with Barak and Anheg, and the rest of them planned a leisurely ride across the mountains to Algaria and from thence down into the Vale.
The farewells at wharfside were brief, in part because they would all see each other again shortly, and in part because none of them wanted to appear over-emotional. Garion took his leave of Silk and Barak in particular with a great deal of reluctance. The two oddly matched men had been his companions for more than half his life, and the prospect of being separated from them caused him an obscure kind of pain. The earth-shaking adventures were over now, and things would not ever really be the same.
‘Do you think you can stay out of trouble now?’ Barak asked him gruffly, obviously feeling the same way. ‘It upsets Merel when she wakes up in the morning to find that she’s been sharing her bed with a bear.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Garion promised.
‘Do you remember what I told you that time just outside Winold – when it was so frosty that morning?’ Silk asked.
Garion frowned, trying to remember.
‘I said that we were living in momentous times, and that now was the time to be alive to share in those events.’
‘Oh yes, now I remember.’
‘I’ve had some time to think about it, and I believe I’d like to reconsider.’ Silk grinned suddenly, and Garion knew that the little man did not mean one word he said.
‘We’ll see you at the Alorn council later this summer, Garion,’ Anheg shouted across the rail as Seabird prepared to depart. ‘It’s at your place this year. Maybe if we work on it, we can teach you to sing properly.’
They left the city of Sendar early the next morning and took the high road to Muros. Although it was not, strictly speaking, necessary, Garion had decided to see his friends all home. The gradual eroding of their company as they had sailed north had been depressing, and Garion was not quite ready yet to be separated from all of them.
They rode across Sendaria in late spring sunshine, crossed the mountains into Algaria, and reached the Stronghold a week or so later. King Cho-Hag was overjoyed at the outcome of the meeting at Korim, and startled at the results of the impromptu conference at Dal Perivor. Because Cho-Hag was far more stable than the brilliant but sometimes erratic Anheg, Belgarath and Garion went into somewhat greater detail about the astonishing elevation of Eriond.
‘He always was a strange boy,’ Cho-Hag mused in his deep, quiet voice when they had finished, ‘but then, this entire series of events has been strange. We’ve been privileged to live in important times, my friends.’
‘We have indeed,’ Belgarath agreed. ‘Let’s hope that things quiet down now – for a while, at least.’
‘Father,’ Hettar said then, ‘King Urgit of the Murgos asked me to convey his appreciation to you.’
‘You met the Murgo King? And we’re not at war?’ Cho-Hag was amazed.