Polgara the Sorceress

‘There’s a lot of difference between “will be” and “is”, Daran. You have to give the appearance of impartiality in this situation. You can spend tomorrow evening sitting in front of a mirror practicing expressions of shock and outrage. Then, when Anrak, Kamion and I drag the Cultists before you and present the case against them, no one can accuse you of having been in on our scheme from the very start. Appearances are very important in situations like this.’

‘Your Highness might want to keep in mind the fact that witchcraft’s a capital offense,’ Kamion pointed out. ‘In actuality, you could burn the lot of them at the stake.’

‘Could I really do that, Aunt Pol?’ Daran asked me.

‘Don’t get carried away, dear. Sentencing them to exile’s really an act of mercy, you realize.’

‘Part of the idea here is to build your reputation, your Highness,’ Kamion explained.

‘I don’t think it’s very fair,’ Daran sulked.

‘No, your Highness, it’s not. It’s politics, and politics aren’t meant to be fair. Oh, incidentally, after the trial, it might not be a bad idea for you to agonize over your final judgment for a week or so.’

Daran stared at him blankly.

‘It’ll give me some time to spread word of the charges and our proof all over the Isle – public relations, you understand.’

‘I know what I’m going to do to them, Brand.’

‘Of course you do, dear,’ I told him. ‘Just don’t do it so quickly. Give Elthek and his cohorts some time to worry before you pass judgment on them.’

‘Where am I going to keep them while I pretend to be making up my mind?’

‘Elthek’s got a fairly extensive dungeon under the temple of Belar, your Highness,’ Kamion suggested without even cracking a smile. ‘As long as it’s there anyway – ’

Daran burst out laughing at that point.

And then the day arrived, dawning murky with the threat of incipient rain. ‘Wonderful,’ Anrak said sourly, looking out the window of our blue-draped conference room as morning stained the sky over the Isle. ‘I hate crawling around in the woods when it’s raining.’

‘You won’t melt,’ I assured him. ‘If you’d like, you could bring a cake of soap along tonight. I think it’s almost time for your annual bath.’

‘I think you did me a big favor that day back in the Vale when you turned down my marriage proposal, Pol,’ he replied.

‘What’s this?’ Daran asked.

‘I was young and foolish at the time, Daran,’ Anrak explained. ‘Some men just aren’t meant to get married.’

That gave me something to think about. Daran would be twenty-three years old on his next birthday, and I didn’t really want him to grow too accustomed to bachelorhood.

It rained off and on all that day, a filmy, misty kind of rain that wreathed the towers of the Citadel and obscured the city and the harbor. The sky cleared in the late afternoon, though, and we were treated to one of those glorious sunsets that almost make living in rainy country worthwhile.

No, I didn’t have anything to do with it. You know how my father feels about tampering with the weather.

The nobles and commons who joined us that evening to serve as witnesses were all men of impeccable character and good reputation. They were not, despite Anrak’s objections, coached or prompted in any way. Indeed, they were not even advised in advance that they were going to spend an entertaining evening out in the still-dripping forest. Kamion, acting in his official capacity as Rivan Warder, simply sent men out to round them all up as the sun went down. Most of them were at supper when they were summoned to the Citadel, and there was a bit of grumbling about that.

‘What’s this all about, Kamion?’ a white-bearded old earl demanded when we all gathered in the stables. The earl’s name was Jarok, a fairly common Alorn name.

‘I want you all to see something, my Lord Jarok,’ Kamion replied.

‘What are we supposed to look at?’ Jarok was obviously not happy. He was an old man with a young wife, and he’d had other plans for the evening, I guess.

‘I’m not at liberty to discuss it, my Lord,’ Kamion told him. ‘All you and the others need to know is that you’re going to witness a crime being committed this evening. The criminals will be taken into custody and they’ll be tried later for their crime. You gentlemen will perform your civic duty and testify at that trial.’

‘Belar’s teeth, Kamion!’ the grouchy old Jarok swore, ‘just hang the rogues and have done with it.’

‘We aren’t talking about a simple burglary or an incidental murder, my Lord. This is a wide-ranging conspiracy that threatens the security of the throne and the entire kingdom. We want to stamp it out, so we’ll need an iron-clad case to take before the Prince Regent.’

That bad?’ Jarok blinked. ‘It’s really bad enough to take before Daran himself instead of a magistrate?’

‘Probably even worse, my Lord. If possible, I’d take the matter to Riva himself.’

‘What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!’

I love the way Alorns can change direction in the blink of an eye, don’t you?

The ride up the gorge which adjoined the one where the Cult was meeting wasn’t very pleasant. The moon and stars were out, but the woods were absolutely soaked by the day’s rain, and we were all wet to the skin by the time we reached the narrow pass that connected the two deep valleys. Things got worse at that point. We all dismounted and started wading up the hill through the sodden undergrowth.

The Cultists’ bonfire down at the bottom of the gorge was clearly visible when we reached the crest, but it became less so as we crept down through the trees.

‘I haven’t had this much fun in years, Pol,’ Anrak whispered to me as we struggled down the steep hill.

‘Did you plan to ever grow up, Anrak?’ I asked him rather tartly as I tried to unsnag the hem of my dress from a thorny bush.

‘Not if I can help it, dear Lady.’ His grin was infectious, and I had to stifle a laugh.

The clearing which surrounded the Cult’s bonfire was quite large. ‘Spread out, gentlemen,’ Kamion’s instructions were passed around in whispers. ‘Let’s try to see everything that happens out there.’ The nobles and merchants and craftsmen comprising our group of witnesses obediently fanned out, moving as silently as possible and all crouched low to avoid being seen. Then we all sank down onto the wet ground to watch.

Elthek had not yet put in an appearance, and the Cultists, all dressed in bearskins, were gathered about the fire drinking strong ale and singing – badly – old Alorn folk-songs. One of the soldiers Kamion had out in the woods came crawling up to join us. He was a stocky man with a no-nonsense kind of face. ‘What are your orders, Lord Brand?’ he whispered.

‘Tell your men to stay out of sight, Sergeant,’ Kamion instructed. ‘Did those people around the fire leave any sentries out there in the forest?’

‘No, my Lord Warder. As soon as the first ale-barrel was broached, they all came in out of the woods.’ The soldier coughed in a slightly embarrassed way. ‘Ah – Lord Brand?’

‘Yes, Sergeant?’

‘I know it isn’t proper for me to take any kind of action without orders, but something came up, and I had to deal with it on my own.’

‘Oh?’

‘When those people around the fire started coming up the gorge, it was fairly obvious that they were members of the Bear-Cult. Some of my men have sympathies in that direction, so I had to take steps. Nobody got hurt,’ he added hastily, ‘at least not too badly. I’ve got those men chained to trees a couple of miles up the gorge, and their mouths are stuffed full of old boot socks to keep them from shouting out warnings. Is it all right that I did that, my Lord?’

‘Perfectly all right, Captain.’

‘Ah – I’m only a sergeant, my Lord.’

‘Not any more, you aren’t. What’s your name, Captain?’

‘Torgun, my Lord.’