Noble winced visibly at the word “gallop.”
Polgara examined the flowers carefully, but, to the disappointment of the princess and her friends, she would not commit herself immediately concerning their medicinal value. A bit subdued, the little princess returned quietly to her quarters and her duties.
Colonel Brendig was awaiting her. Upon reflection, Ce’Nedra concluded that Colonel Brendig was by far the most practical man she had ever met. No detail was too small for him. In a lesser man, such concern with little things might have been passed off as mere fussiness, but the colonel’s belief that big things were made up of little things gave his patient attention to detail a certain dignity. He seemed to be everywhere in the camp; in his wake, tent-ropes were tightened, cluttered heaps of equipment were arranged into neat stacks, and casually open doublets were quickly buttoned up.
“I hope that her Majesty found her ride refreshing,” the colonel said politely, bowing as Ce’Nedra entered the room.
“Thank you, Colonel Brendig,” the princess replied. “My majesty did.” She was in a whimsical frame of mind, and it was always a delight to tease this sober-faced Sendar.
A brief smile touched Brendig’s lips, and then he immediately got down to the business of the midday report. “I’m pleased to advise your majesty that the Drasnian engineers have nearly completed the hoists atop the escarpment,” he reported. “All that remains is the rigging of the counterweights which will help to lift the Cherek warships.”
“That’s nice,” Ce’Nedra said with the vacant, empty-headed smile she knew drove him absolutely wild.
Brendig’s jaw tightened slightly, but his face betrayed no other sign of his momentary flash of irritation. “The Chereks are beginning to remove the masts and rigging from their ships in preparation for the portage,” he continued, “and the fortified positions up on top of the escarpment are several days ahead of schedule.”
“How wonderful!” Ce’Nedra exclaimed, clapping her hands with a great show of girlish delight.
“Your Majesty, please,” Brendig complained.
“I’m sorry, Colonel Brendig,” Ce’Nedra apologized, affectionately patting his hand. “For some reason you bring out the very worst in me. Don’t you ever smile?”
He looked at her with an absolutely straight face. “I am smiling, your Majesty,” he said. “Oh—you have a visitor from Tolnedra.”
“A visitor? Who?”
“A General Varana, the Duke of Anadile.”
“Varana? Here? What on earth is he doing in Algaria? Is he alone?”
“There are a number of other Tolnedran gentlemen with him,” Brendig replied. “They aren’t in uniform, but they have the general bearing of military men. They say that they’re here as private observers. General Varana expressed a desire to pay his respects whenever it might be convenient.”
“Of course, Colonel Brendig,” Ce’Nedra said with an enthusiasm that was no longer feigned. “Please send for him at once.”
Ce’Nedra had known General Varana since her earliest childhood. He was a stocky man with graying, curly hair and a stiff left knee that gave him a noticeable limp. He was blessed with that wry, understated sense of humor so characteristic of the Anadilian family. Of all the noble houses of Tolnedra, the Borunes were most comfortable with the Anadiles. Both families were southern, for one thing, and the Anadiles usually sided with the Borunes in disputes with the powerful families of the north. Although Anadile was only a duchy, there had never been any hint of subservience in the family’s alliances with the Grand Dukes of the House of Borune. Indeed, Anadilian dukes, more often than not, poked gentle fun at their more powerful neighbors. Serious historians and statesmen had long considered it a misfortune for the Empire that the talented House of Anadile had not enough wealth to make a serious bid for the Imperial Throne.
When General Varana politely limped into the room where Ce’Nedra impatiently awaited him, there was a faint smile hovering on his lips and a quizzical lift to one of his eyebrows. “Your Majesty,” he greeted her with a bow,
“Uncle Varana,” the princess exclaimed, flying to embrace him. Varana was not, in fact, her uncle, but she had always thought of him as such.
“What have you gone and done now, my little Ce’Nedra?” He laughed, enfolding her in his thick-muscled arms. “You’re turning the world upside-down, you know. What’s a Borune doing in the middle of Algaria with an Alorn army at her back?”
“I’m going to invade Mishrak ac Thull,” she declared impishly.
“Really? Whatever for? Did King Gethell of Thulldom insult the House of Borune in some way? I hadn’t heard about it.”
“It’s an Alorn matter,” Ce’Nedra replied airily.
“Oh, I see. That explains it, I suppose. Alorns don’t need reasons for the things they do.”
“You’re laughing at me,” she accused him.
“Of course I am, Ce’Nedra. The Anadiles have been laughing at the Borunes for thousands of years.”
She pouted. “It’s very serious, Uncle Varana.”
“Naturally it is,” he agreed, gently touching her out-thrust lower lip with one thick finger, “but that’s no reason not to laugh about it.”
“You’re impossible,” Ce’Nedra said helplessly, laughing in spite of herself. “What are you doing here?”
“Observing,” he told her. “Generals do that a lot. You’ve got the only war that’s going on just now, so several of us thought we’d drop by and have a look. Morin suggested it.”
“My father’s chamberlain?”
“I think that’s his function, yes.”
“Morin wouldn’t do that—not on his own.”
“Really? What astonishing news.”
Ce’Nedra frowned, nibbling absently at a lock of her hair. Varana reached out and took the lock out from between her teeth. “Morin doesn’t do anything unless my father tells him to,” Ce’Nedra mused, once again lifting the curl to her lips.
Varana took the lock out of her fingers again.
“Don’t do that,” she told him.
“Why not? That’s the way I broke you of sucking your thumb.”
“This is different. I’m thinking.”
“Think with your mouth closed.”
“This was my father’s idea, wasn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t presume to say I knew the Emperor’s mind,” he replied.
“Well, I would. What’s that old fox up to?”
“That’s hardly respectful, child.”
“You say you’re here to observe?”
He nodded.
“And perhaps make a few suggestions?”
He shrugged. “If anyone cares to listen. I’m not here officially, you understand. Imperial policy forbids that. Your claim to the Riven throne is not formally recognized in Tol Honeth.”
She cast a sidelong glance at him through her thick eyelashes. “These suggestions you might make—if you happened to be near a Tolnedran legion that seemed to need a bit of direction, is it at all possible that one of these suggestions might be ‘forward march?’ ”
“That situation might arise, yes,” he admitted gravely.
“And you have a number of other officers of the general staff with you?”
“I think several of them do, in fact, serve occasionally on that body.” His eyes were twinkling with suppressed mirth.
Ce’Nedra lifted the lock again, and General Varana took it away from her once more.
“How would you like to meet King Rhodar of Drasnia?” she asked him.
“I’d be honored to meet his Majesty.”
“Why don’t we go see him, then?”
“Why don’t we?”
“Oh, I love you, Uncle.” She laughed, throwing her arms about him again.
They found King Rhodar in conference with the other leaders of the army in a large airy chamber King Cho-Hag had set aside for their use. There was no longer any pretence of formality among the leaders of the army, and most of them sprawled in comfortable horsehide chairs, watching as the crimson-robed Rhodar measured off distances with a piece of string on a large map that covered one entire wall.