“That was before you stole my daughter,” he retorted. “What have you done to her? She was difficult before, but now she’s absolutely impossible.”
“Children grow up, your Majesty,” Polgara replied philosophically. “The queen’s point was well-taken, however. We do need to talk—preferably in private.”
“What queen are we talking about?” the Emperor asked bitingly. “I don’t see any queen here.”
Ce’Nedra’s eyes hardened. “Father,” she snapped, “you know what’s been happening. Now stop playing games and talk sense. This is very important.”
“Your Highness knows me well enough to know that I don’t play games,” he told her in an icy tone.
“Your Majesty,” she corrected him.
“Your Highness,” he insisted.
“Your Majesty,” she repeated, her voice going up an octave.
“Your Highness,” he snarled from between clenched teeth.
“Do we really need to squabble like bad-tempered children right in front of the armies?” Polgara asked calmly.
“She’s right, you know,” Rhodar said to Ran Borune. “We’re all beginning to look a bit foolish out here. We ought to try to maintain the fiction of dignity at least.”
The Emperor glanced involuntarily over one shoulder at the glittering ranks of his legions drawn up on the hilltops not far away. “Very well,” he conceded grudgingly, “but I want it clearly understood that the only thing we’re going to talk about is your withdrawal from Tolnedran soil. If you’ll follow me, we’ll go to my pavilion.”
“Which stands right in the middle of your legions,” King Anheg added. “Forgive me, Ran Borune, but we’re not that stupid. Why don’t we go to my pavilion instead?”
“I’m no stupider than you are, Anheg,” the Emperor retorted.
“If I may,” King Fulrach said mildly. “In the interests of expediency, might we not assume that this spot is more or less neutral?” He turned to Brendig. “Colonel, would you be so good as to have a large tent erected here?”
“At once, your Majesty,” the sober-faced Brendig replied.
King Rhodar grinned. “As you can see, the legendary practicality of the Sendars is not a myth.”
The Emperor looked a bit sour, but finally seemed to remember his manners. “I haven’t seen you in a long time, Fulrach,” he said. “I hope Layla’s well.”
“She sends her regards,” the King of Sendaria replied politely.
“You’ve got good sense, Fulrach,” the Emperor burst out. “Why have you lent yourself to this insane adventure?”
“I think that might be one of the things we ought to discuss in private, don’t you?” Polgara suggested smoothly.
“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.”