Asrana stepped forward. ‘I’m just a silly woman,’ she said, ‘but it seems to me that someone already has. Earl Mangaran seems to have everything under control. Since he’s volunteered, why don’t we let him take care of things during the duke’s temporary incapacity?’
‘Yes,’ an elderly noble, also one of our cohorts, agreed. ‘Mangaran will do nicely, I think. The Privy Council may want to discuss the matter, but in the interim, I’d suggest that the earl should continue to make decisions. We do have the Wacites on our eastern frontier, after all, so we don’t want any signs of division or weakness to encourage them to attack.’
Mangaran sighed. ‘If it is the will of the court – ’ He even managed to sound reluctant.
The still gibbering duke was hustled into a carriage for his trip to the monastery an hour or so before the party at the Marquis Torandin’s house broke up. We left the Murgo’s body where it had fallen to help persuade the returning party-goers that there really had been an assassination attempt, and with only a few exceptions the courtiers all agreed that Mangaran should continue to stand in Oldoran’s stead.
It was almost dawn by the time I fell into bed to snatch a couple of hours sleep.
‘Interstitial conjunctive morbialis?’ father’s voice asked mildly. ‘What’s that, Pol?’
‘It’s very rare, father.’
‘It must be. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it before.’
‘Probably not. This is the first case I’ve ever seen. Go away, Old Man. Let me get some sleep. I’ll call you when it’s time for you to make your speech.’
Our coup had gone off quite smoothly. Such opposition as there was had been thrown into total disarray by the speed at which we had moved, and the sudden appearance in the throne-room of the legendary Belgarath the Sorcerer about mid-morning of the day following our little coup more or less set our arrangements in stone. Father, always a performer, strode into the throne-room garbed in an almost incandescent white robe. He carried a staff, which the gullible Asturians assumed could be used to fell vast forests, blow the tops off mountains, and turn whole generations into regiments of toads. Father, quite naturally, took all the credit, and then he strongly suggested that it was his decision that Earl Mangaran assume the reins of the government.
The dead Murgo who’d subverted Duke Oldoran was buried with Lammer’s arrow still stuck through his head, and since most of his underlings were Angaraks incapable of making decisions on their own, they had to wait for new instructions from Rak Cthol. Ctuchik had been getting all sorts of bad news lately, and I had every intention of going on to Vo Mimbre to send him some more.
Father, Mangaran, Asrana and I gathered in Asrana’s apartments after everything had been nailed down to discuss our options at this point. ‘My father might not agree with me,’ I told them, ‘but I think our next step should be some peace overtures to Kathandrion of Vo Wacune. Let’s shut down this silly war.’ I looked at father. ‘Any objections?’ I asked him.
‘This is your party, Pol,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Do it any way you like.’
‘I’d more or less intended to, father.’ I cocked an eyebrow at Asrana and Mangaran. ‘I’m going on to Vo Mimbre,’ I advised them. Try not to get creative while I’m gone. Watch Oldoran’s relatives and those half-dozen or so courtiers who were so upset by the sudden passing of the fellow in the Tolnedran mantle. There are probably other Murgos lurking about, though, and I think they’ll also pose as Tolnedrans when they start showing up at court. I think the best way to deal with them would be to lean heavily on that “interim” business. Theoretically, you’re just filling in for Oldoran until he regains his health, my Lord Mangaran. Pretend that you don’t have the authority to sign treaties or agree to more informal arrangements. Tell them that they’ll have to wait until the duke recovers. That should stall anything new for about half a year. Ctuchik’s plan has a definite time-table, I think, and an enforced six-month delay should seriously disrupt it. The Dagashi will have to just mark time, but I won’t. I’ll be able to stop things at Vo Mimbre, and they won’t be able to do a thing about it.’
‘Did you teach her how to be so devious, Holy Belgarath?’ Mangaran asked my father.
‘No,’ father replied. ‘It seems to be a natural talent. I’m terribly proud of her, though.’
‘An actual compliment, father?’ I said. ‘I think I’ll faint.’
Asrana had been eyeing my father with a speculative look.
‘That’s a terrible mistake, dear,’ I told her. ‘You don’t really want to get involved with him.’
‘I can take care of myself, Polly,’ she said, her eyes still on my father.
‘Oh dear,’ I said. Then I threw up my hands and left for Vo Mimbre.
Chapter 15
My father suggested that I stop at Vo Mandor to talk with the current baron on my way south, so Lady and I went down across the vast, deforested plain of the Mimbrate duchy. Even then that landscape was depressingly dotted with the ruins of towns, villages, and isolated castles. I’m sure that Asturia and Wacune were littered with the souvenirs of idiocies past as well, but those old wounds moldered discreetly in the forests which covered the two northern duchies. In Mimbre the grey stone ghosts of castles and the like were always painfully visible and were thus a constant reminder of the sorry history of Arendia. There are those who pass through the plains of Mimbre who find the ruins picturesque and romantic, but that’s usually long after the smoke and stench have been blown away and the seasons have washed off the blood.
There wasn’t much danger that Mandorallen’s ancestral home would ever be part of the nameless ruins of the tides of civil war. Vo Mandor was probably what they had in mind when they coined the word ‘unassailable’. It stood atop a rocky knoll, and in the process of construction the builders had hacked away the sides of that knoll to obtain the necessary building stones. The end result was a fortress situated atop a jutting peak with sheer sides hundreds of feet high that defied assault – not that it hadn’t been tried a few times, Arends being what they are and all.
As I thought about it, I reached the conclusion that the site of their place of origin may have played a significant role in the formation of the character of that long, unbroken line of the Barons of Vo Mandor. If you grow up with the conviction that no one can possibly hurt you, it tends to make you just a bit rash.