Part one arendia Chapter Ten
THE CITY OF THE MIMBRATE ARENDS reared almost like a mountain beside
the sparkling river. Its thick, high walls were surmounted by massive
battlements, and great towers and slender spires with bright banners at
their tips rose within the walls, gleaming golden in the afternoon
sun."Behold Vo Mimbre," Mandorallen proclaimed with pride, "queen of
cities. Upon that rock the tide of Angarak crashed and recoiled and
crashed again. Upon this field met they their ruin. The soul and pride
of Arendia loth reside within that fortress, and the power of the Dark
One may not prevail against it."
"We've been here before, Mandorallen," Mister Wolf said sourly.
"Don't be impolite, father," Aunt Pol told the old man. Then she
turned to Mandorallen and to Garion's amazement she spoke in an idiom he
had never heard from her lips before. "Wilt thou, Sir Knight, convey us
presently into the palace of thy king? We must needs take council with
him in matters of gravest urgency." She delivered this without the least
trace of self-consciousness as if the archaic formality came quite
naturally to her. "Forasmuch as thou art the mightiest knight on life,
we place ourselves under the protection of thy arm."
Mandorallen, after a startled instant, slid with a crash from his
warhorse and sank to his knees before her. "My Lady Polgara," he replied
in a voice throbbing with respect - with reverence even, "I accept thy
charge and will convey thee safely unto King Korodullin. Should any man
question thy paramount right to the king's attention, I shall prove his
folly upon his body."
Aunt Pol smiled at him encouragingly, and he vaulted into his saddle
with a clang and led the way at a rolling trot, his whole bearing
seething with a willingness to do battle.
"What was that all about?" Wolf asked.
"Mandorallen needed something to take his mind off his troubles," she replied. "He's been out of sorts for the last few days."
As they drew closer to the city, Garion could see the scars on the
great walls where heavy stones from the Angarak catapults had struck the
unyielding rock. The battlements high above were chipped and pitted
from the impact of showers of steel-tipped arrows. The stone archway
that led into the city revealed the incredible thickness of the walls,
and the ironbound gate was massive. They clattered through the archway
and into the narrow, crooked streets. The people they passed seemed for
the most part to be commoners, who quickly moved aside. The faces of the
men in dun-colored tunics and the women in patched dresses were dull
and uncurious.
"They don't seem very interested in us," Garion commented quietly to Durnik.
"I don't think the ordinary people and the gentry pay much attention
to each other here," Durnik replied. "They live side by side, but they
don't know anything about each other. Maybe that's what's wrong with
Arendia."
Garion nodded soberly.
Although the commoners were indifferent, the nobles at the palace
seemed afire with curiosity. Word of the party's entrance into the city
apparently had raced ahead of them through the narrow streets, and the
windows and parapets of the palace were alive with people in brightly
colored clothes.
"Abate thy pace, Sir Knight," a tall man with dark hair and beard,
wearing a black velvet surcoat over his polished mail, called down from
the parapet to Mandorallen as they clattered into the broad plaza before
the palace. "Lift thy visor so that I may know thee."
Mandorallen stopped in amazement before the closed gate and raised
his visor. "What discourtesy is this?" he demanded. "I am, as all the
world knows, Mandorallen, Baron of Vo Mandor. Surely thou canst see my
crest upon the face of my shield."
"Any man may wear another's crest," the man above declared disdainfully.
Mandorallen's face darkened. "Art thou not mindful that no man on
life would dare to counterfeit my semblance?" he asked in a dangerous
tone.
"Sir Andorig," another knight on the parapet told the dark-haired
man, "this is indeed Sir Mandorallen. I met him on the field of the
great tourney last year, and our meeting cost me a broken shoulder and
put a ringing in my ears which hath not yet subsided."
"Ah," Sir Andorig replied, "since thou wilt vouch for him, Sir
Helbergin, I will admit that this is indeed the bastard of Vo Mandor."
"You're going to have to do something about that one of these days," Barak said quietly to Mandorallen.
"It would seem so," Mandorallen replied.
"Who, however, are these others with thee who seek admittance, Sir
Knight?" Andorig demanded. "I will not cause the gates to open for
foreign strangers."
Mandorallen straightened in his saddle. "Behold!" he announced in a
voice that could probably be heard all over the city. "I bring you honor
beyond measure. Fling wide the palace gate and prepare one and all to
make obeisance. You look upon the holy face of Belgarath the Sorcerer,
the Eternal Man, and upon the divine countenance of his daughter, the
Lady Polgara, who have come to Vo Mimbre to consult with the King of
Arendia on diverse matters."
"Isn't that a little overdone?" Garion whispered to Aunt Pol.
"It's customary, dear," she replied placidly. "When you're dealing
with Arends, you have to be a little extravagant to get their
attention."
"And who hath told thee that this is the Lord Belgarath?" Andorig
asked with the faintest hint of a sneer. "I will bend no knee before an
unproved vagabond."
"Dost thou question my word, Sir Knight?" Mandorallen returned in an
ominously quiet voice. "And wilt thou then come down and put thy doubt
to the test? Or is it perhaps that thou wouldst prefer to cringe doglike
behind thy parapet and yap at thy betters?"
"Oh, that was very good," Barak said admiringly. Mandorallen grinned tightly at the big man.
"I don't think we're getting anywhere with this," Mister Wolf
muttered. "It looks like I'll have to prove something to this skeptic if
we're ever going to get in to see Korodullin." He slid down from his
saddle and thoughtfully removed a twig from his horse's tail, picked up
somewhere during their journey. Then he strode to the center of the
plaza and stood there in his gleaming white robe. "Sir Knight," he
called up mildly to Andorig, "you're a cautious man, I see. That's a
good quality, but it can be carried too far."
"I am hardly a child, old man," the dark-haired knight replied in a
tone hovering on the verge of insult, "and I believe only what mine own
eye hath confirmed."
"It must be a sad thing to believe so little," Wolf observed. He bent
then and inserted the twig he'd been holding between two of the broad
granite flagstones at his feet. He stepped back a pace and stretched his
hand out above the twig, his face curiously gentle. "I'm going to do
you a favor, Sir Andorig," he announced. "I'm going to restore your
faith. Watch closely." And then he spoke a single soft word that Garion
couldn't quite hear, but which set off the now-familiar surge and a
faint roaring sound.