David Eddings - Castle of Wizardry

“How’s the squabble over the succession going?” Rhodar asked in the tone of a man making small talk.

“It’s still up in the air,” Ran Borune responded, also in a neutral manner. “The Honeths seem to be joining forces, though.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Rhodar murmured. “The Honeths have a bad reputation.”

Under Colonel Brendig’s direction, a squad of Sendarian soldiers were quickly erecting a large, bright-colored pavilion on the green turf not far away.

“Did you deal with Duke Kador, father?” Ce’Nedra inquired.

“His Grace found his life burdensome,” Ran Borune replied with a short laugh. “Someone rather carelessly left some poison lying about in his prison cell, and he sampled it extensively. We gave him a splendid funeral.”

Ce’Nedra smiled. “I’m so sorry I missed it.”

“The pavilion is ready now,” King Fulrach told them. “Shall we go inside?”

They all entered and sat at the table the soldiers had placed inside. Lord Morin, the Emperor’s chamberlain, held Ce’Nedra’s chair for her. “How has he been?” Ce’Nedra whispered to the brown-mantled official.

“Not well, Princess,” Morin replied. “Your absence grieved him more than he cared to admit.”

“Is he eating well—and getting his rest?”

“We try, Highness.” Morin shrugged. “But your father’s not the easiest person in the world to get along with.”

“Do you have his medicine?”

“Naturally, Highness. I never go anywhere without it.”

“Suppose we get down to business,” Rhodar was saying. “Taur Urgas has sealed his western border, and the southern Murgos have moved into position around Rak Goska. ’Zakath, the Mallorean Emperor, has set up a staging area on the plains outside Thull Zelik to receive his troops as he ferries them in. We’re running out of time, Ran Borune.”

“I’m negotiating with Taur Urgas,” the Emperor replied, “and I’ll dispatch a plenipotentiary to ’Zakath immediately. I’m certain this can be settled without a war.”

“You can talk to Taur Urgas until your tongue falls out,” Anheg snorted, “and ’Zakath probably doesn’t even know or care who you are. As soon as they’ve gathered their forces, they’ll march. The war can’t be avoided, and I for one am just as happy about that. Let’s exterminate the Angaraks once and for all.”

“Isn’t that just a bit uncivilized, Anheg?” Ran Borune asked him.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” King Korodullin said formally, “the King of Cherek speaks hastily perhaps, but there is wisdom in his words. Must we live forever under the threat of invasion from the East? Might it not be best forever to quell them?”

“All of this is very interesting,” Ce’Nedra interrupted them coolly, “but it’s really beside the point. The actual point at issue here is that the Rivan King has returned, and Tolnedra is required by the provisions of the Accords of Vo Mimbre to submit to his leadership.”

“Perhaps,” her father replied. “But young Belgarion seems to be absent. Have you misplaced him somewhere? Or is it perhaps that he still had pots to scrub in the scullery at Riva so that you had to leave him behind?”

“That’s beneath you, father,” Ce’Nedra said scornfully. “The Overlord of the West requires your service. Are you going to shame the Borunes and Tolnedra by abrogating the Accords?”

“Oh, no, daughter,” he said, holding up one hand. “Tolnedra always meticulously observes every clause of every treaty she’s ever signed. The Accords require me to submit to Belgarion, and I’ll do precisely that—just as soon as he comes here and tells me what he wants.”

“I am acting in his stead,” Ce’Nedra announced.

“I don’t seem to recall anything that states that the authority is transferable.”

“I am the Rivan Queen,” Ce’Nedra retorted hotly, “and I’ve been invested with co-rulership by Belgarion himself.”

“The wedding must have been very private. I’m a little hurt that I wasn’t invited.”

“The wedding will take place in due time, father. In the meantime, I speak for Belgarion and for Riva.”

“Speak all you want, girl.” He shrugged. “I’m not obliged to listen, however. At the moment, you’re only the betrothed of the Rivan King. You are not his wife and therefore not his queen. If we want to be strictly legal about it, until such time as you do marry, you’re still under my authority. Perhaps if you apologize and get out of that stupid-looking armor and put on proper clothing, I’ll forgive you. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to punish you.”

“Punish? Punish!”

“Don’t scream at me, Ce’Nedra,” the Emperor said hotly.

“Things seem to be deteriorating rapidly,” Bank observed dryly to Anheg.

“I noticed that,” Anheg agreed.

“I am the Rivan Queen!” Ce’Nedra shouted at her father.

“You’re a silly girl!” he shot back.

“That does it, father,” she declared, leaping to her feet. “You will deliver command of your legions to me at once, and then you’ll return to Tol Honeth where your servants can wrap you in shawls and feed you gruel, since you’re obviously too senile to be of any further use to me.”

“Senile?” the Emperor roared, also jumping up. “Get out of my sight! Take your stinking Alorn army out of Tolnedra at once, or I’ll order my legions to throw you out.”

Ce’Nedra, however, was already storming toward the door of the tent.

“You come back here!” he raged at her. “I haven’t finished talking to you yet.”

“Yes you have, father,” she shouted back. “Now I’m going to talk. Barak, I need that sack you have tied to your saddle.” She rushed from the tent and climbed onto her horse, spluttering with apparent fury.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Barak asked her as he tied the sack of Angarak coins to her saddle.

“Perfectly,” she replied in a calm voice.

Barak’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “You seem to have regained your temper in a remarkably short time.”

“I never lost it, Barak.”

“You were acting in there?”

“Obviously. Well, at least partially. It will take my father an hour or so to regain his composure, and by then it will be too late. Tell Rhodar and the others to prepare the army to march. The legions will be joining us.

“What makes you think that?”

“I’m going to go fetch them right now.” She turned to Mandorallen, who had just emerged from the tent. “Where have you been?” she asked. “Come along. I need an escort.”

“Where are we going, pray?” the knight asked.

“You’ll see,” she told him, and she turned her mount and rode at a trot up the hillside toward the massed legions. Mandorallen exchanged a helpless look with Barak and then clanged into his saddle to follow.

Ce’Nedra, riding ahead, carefully put her fingertips to her amulet. “Lady Polgara,” she whispered, “can you hear me?” She wasn’t certain that the amulet would work that way, but she had to try. “Lady Polgara,” she whispered again, a bit more urgently.

“What are you doing, Ce’Nedra?” Polgara’s voice sounded quite clearly in the little queen’s ears.

“I’m going to talk to the legions,” Ce’Nedra answered. “Can you fix it so they’ll hear me?”

“Yes, but the legions won’t be much interested in a speech about patriotism.”

“I’ve got a different one,” Ce’Nedra assured her.

“Your father’s having a fit in here. He’s actually foaming at the mouth.”

Ce’Nedra sighed regretfully. “I know,” she said. “It happens fairly often. Lord Morin has the medicine with him. Please try to keep him from biting his tongue.”