Ce’Nedra began to laugh.
In the days that followed, a number of people left Riva on important missions. Barak sailed north to Val Alorn to attend the outfitting of the Cherek fleet. Mandorallen left for Vo Mimbre to report to King Korodullin. The fiery young Lelldorin, who had received a pardon at Garion’s request, took ship to return to Asturia to make certain preparations there. Hettar, Relg, and Colonel Brendig departed for Camaar, where they would separate and each would return home to oversee the final stages of the mobilization. Events, which always moved at their own pace, began to stir and quicken as the West moved inexorably toward war.
24
Princess Ce’Nedra soon discovered that Alorns were a surprisingly emotional people. She was forced from the outset to abandon the stereotyped Tolnedran view of this northern race as brutish savages, ravening on the extreme edges of civilization. She found them instead to be an extraordinarily complex people often capable of an extreme range of highly subtle emotions.
There was nothing subtle, however, about the apoplectic fury of King Anheg of Cherek when he came bursting into the council chamber a few days later with his eyes bulging and his face aflame.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he bellowed at Ce’Nedra.
“Done to what, your Majesty?” she replied calmly.
“To Cherek!” he shouted, his dented crown sliding down over one ear. “This little game you’ve been playing gave my wife the brilliant idea that she’s going to run my country while I’m gone.”
“She’s your wife, King Anheg,” Ce’Nedra pointed out coolly. “It’s only proper that she should mind the kingdom in your absence.”
“Mind?” he almost screamed. “Islena doesn’t have a mind. There’s nothing between her ears but empty air.”
“Why did you marry her then?”
“It certainly wasn’t for her mind.”
“She might surprise you, Anheg,” King Rhodar suggested with an amused look on his face.
“The only thing that would surprise me would be to find anything left when I get back,” Anheg retorted, collapsing in a chair. “And there’s nothing I can do to stop her. No matter what I say, she’ll assume the throne as soon as I leave. It’s going to be a disaster. Women have no business in politics. They’re too weak-brained for it.”
“I’m afraid that suggestion won’t endear you very much in this particular company, Anheg.” King Rhodar chuckled, glancing at Polgara. One of her eyebrows had shot up at Anheg’s last remark.
“Oh-sorry, Polgara,” Anheg mustered, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean you, of course. I don’t really think of you as a woman.”
“I wouldn’t pursue it any further, Anheg,” King Rhodar advised him. “You’ve blundered quite enough for one day already.”
“That’s all right, Rhodar,” Polgara said in a frigid tone. “I find the observations of the King of Cherek most interesting.”
Anheg winced.
“I really can’t understand you, my friend,” King Rhodar said to Anheg. “You’ve given yourself the finest education in the north. You’ve studied art and poetry and history and philosophy, but on this one subject you’re as blind as an illiterate peasant. What disturbs you so much about the idea of a woman with authority?”
“It’s—it’s unnatural,” Anheg blurted. “Women were not meant to rule. The whole idea violates the order of things.”
“I’m not certain that we’re getting anywhere with this,” Polgara observed. “If you gentlemen will excuse us, her Majesty and I still have preparations to make.” She rose and led Ce’Nedra from the council chamber.
“He’s very excitable, isn’t he?” Ce’Nedra said as the two of them passed through the corridors of Iron-grip’s Citadel toward Lady Polgara’s apartments.
“He tends to be overdramatic at times,” Polgara replied. “These outbursts of his aren’t always genuine. Sometimes he behaves the way he does because he thinks people expect it of him.” She frowned slightly. “He’s right about one thing, though. Islena’s not qualified to rule. I think we’ll have to have a talk with her—and with the other ladies as well.” She opened the door to her apartment, and the two of them went inside.
Most of the damage that had resulted from Polgara’s vast rage had been repaired, and there remained only a few scorchmarks on the stone walls to testify to the violence of her fury. She seated herself at a table and turned again to the letter which had arrived that morning from Queen Porenn in Drasnia. “I think it’s rather obvious that we’re not going to be able to catch up with my father and the others now,” she observed somewhat regretfully, but at least there’s one thing we won’t have to worry about any more.”
“Which one is that?” Ce’Nedra asked, seating herself across the table from Polgara.
“There’d been some question about my father’s recovery from that collapse he suffered last winter, but from what Porenn says, he’s completely back to normal—although that’s not an unmixed blessing.” She laid Porenn’s letter aside. “I think the time’s come for us to have a little talk, Ce’Nedra. You’ve done a great deal of maneuvering and manipulating in the past few weeks. Now I want to know exactly what’s behind it all. Precisely why have you seen fit to ram your new status down everybody’s throat?”
Ce’Nedra flushed. “I am the Rivan Queen after all, Lady Polgara,” she replied stiffly.
“Don’t be absurd. You’re wearing a fictional crown because Rhodar decided to let you wear it, and because he’s convinced Anheg and Brand and Cho-Hag that you’re not going to do any damage. Now what’s behind all this?” Polgara’s look was very direct, and Ce’Nedra squirmed uncomfortably.
“We have to bring in the Arends and my father’s legions,” she said as if that explained it.
“That’s fairly obvious.”
“But the Alorn Kings wouldn’t be able to do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because a committee can’t win people’s hearts.” It was out in the open now, and Ce’Nedra rushed on. “Garion could have done it. The entire West would have risen at the call of the Rivan King, but Garion isn’t here, so somebody else has to do it. I’ve studied history, Lady Polgara. No army led by a committee has ever succeeded. The success of an army depends on the spirit of the soldiers, and the soldiers have to have one leader—someone who fires their imagination.”
“And you’ve elected yourself?”
“It doesn’t have to be anybody brilliant or anything—not really. It’s just got to be somebody visible—and unusual.”
“And you think that a woman’s going to be unusual enough and visible enough to raise an army—and incidentally to pose enough of a threat to attract the undivided attention of Taur Urgas and ’Zakath, the Mallorean Emperor?”
“Well, it’s never been done before.” Ce’Nedra felt a little defensive about it.
“A lot of things have never been done before, Ce’Nedra. That’s not necessarily the best recommendation—and what convinced you that I wasn’t qualified?”
Ce’Nedra swallowed hard. “You were so angry,” she faltered, “and I wasn’t sure how long you were going to stay angry. Somebody had to take charge immediately. Besides—” she hesitated.
“Go on.”
“My father doesn’t like you,” Ce’Nedra blurted. “He’d never order his legions to follow you. I’m the only one who has a chance to convince him that he ought to join us. I’m sorry, Lady Polgara. I don’t mean to offend you.”
Polgara, however, waved that aside. Her face was thoughtful as she considered Ce’Nedra’s arguments. “It would seem that you have given the matter some thought,” she concluded. “All right, Ce’Nedra, we’ll try it your way—for now. Just don’t do anything exotic. Now I think we’d better have a talk with the ladies.”
The conference that took place in Polgara’s apartments that afternoon concerned matters of state. She waited quietly until the little group had all gathered, and then she spoke to them rather gravely. “Ladies,” she began, “in a very short time the Alorns and others will be taking the field on an expedition of some importance.”