"Your Highness," King Rhodar began with a portly bow. "You honor us. Was there-"

"Your Majesty," she responded with a little curtsy, "and gentlemen, I find that I need your advice in a matter of state."

"We are all at your immediate disposal, your Highness," King Rhodar replied with sly little twinkle in his eyes.

"In the absence of king Belgarion, it appears that I must act in his stead," Ce'Nedra annaunced, "and I need your advice on how to proceed. I wish the transfer of power into my hands to go as smoothly as possible."

They all stared at her disbelievingly.

King Rhodar recovered his wits first. "An interesting proposal, your Highness," he murmured politely. "We have, however, made other arrangements. There's a long-standing precedent in the matter. We thank your Highness for her gracious offer nonetheless."

"It was not precisely an offer, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra told him, "and any previous precedents have been superceded."

King Anheg was spluttering, but Rhodar was already moving along smoothly. Ce'Nedra realized that the rotund Drasnian king was likely to be her most serious adversary - or her most effective ally. "We'd all be fascinated to examine the instrument vesting your Highness with royal authority," he said. "I presume that the parchment you carry is relevant?"

"It is indeed, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra declared. "The doc.u.ment quite clearly lists my responsibilities."

"May I?" Rhodar asked, extending his hand.

Ce'Nedra handed him the parchment and he carefully unrolled it. "Uh - your Highness. This is your bethrothal agreement. Perhaps you meant to bring a different doc.u.ment."

"The pertinent material is contained in the fourth paragraph, your Majesty."

Rhodar quickly read the paragraph, frowning slightly.

"What does it say, Rhodar?" King Anheg asked impatiently.

"Interesting," Rhodar murmured, scratching his ear.

"Rhodar," Anheg complained, "what does it say?"

King Rhodar cleared his throat and began to read aloud. " 'It is agreed that King Belgarion and his Queen shall rule jointly, and that in his absence shall she a.s.sume fully the duties and authority of the Rivan Throne.'"

"Let me see that," Anheg demanded, s.n.a.t.c.hing the parchment from Rhodar.

"It doesn't mean anything," Brand declared. "She isn't his queen yet. She won't be until after the wedding."

"That's only a formality, my Lord Warder," Ce'Nedra told him.

"A rather important one, I'd say," he retorted.

"The precedent is well-established," she said coolly. "When a king dies, the next in line a.s.sumes the duties of the crown, doesn't he, even though there hasn't been a formal coronation?"

"That's different," Brand growled.

"I fail to see the difference, my Lord. I have been designated Belgarion's co-ruler. In his absence or an emergency, I am obliged to take command. It is my right and my responsibility. The formalities may have to wait, but I am the Rivan Queen. This is King Belgarion's will and intent. Will you defy your king?"

"There's something to what she says, my Lord Warder," the Earl of Seline mused. "The doc.u.ment is quite clear."

"But look at this," Anheg said triumphantly. "In paragraph two it says that should the wedding not take place, all gifts are to be returned. The wedding has not taken place."

"I'm not sure that power is a gift, Anheg," King Fulrach suggested. "You can't give it and then take it back."

"There's no way she could rule," Anheg declared stubbornly. "She doesn't know the first thing about Alorns."

"Neither did Garion," King Cho-Hag murmured in his quiet voice. "She can learn the same way he did."

Ce'Nedra had been rather carefully a.s.sessing their mood. Most of them seemed willing at least to consider her idea. Only the two conservatives, Brand and Anheg, were actually resisting. It seemed the time now for a dignified withdrawal coupled with a disarming offer. "I will leave you gentlemen to discuss the matter," she declared somewhat loftily. "I would like you to know, however, that I realize the gravity of the situation confronting the West." She deliberately put on a winsome, little-girl face. "I'm only a young girl," she confessed, "unused to the intricacies of strategy and tactics. I could never make any decisions in that area without the fullest advice from you gentlemen."

She curtsied then to King Rhodar, choosing him deliberately. "Your Majesty," she said, "I shall await your decision."

He bowed in response, a bit floridly. "Your Majesty," he replied with a sly wink.

Ce'Nedra retired and literally flew down the corridors to her own quarters. Breathlessly she closed the door behind her and touched the talisman at her throat with trembling fingertips. She sorted quickly through random conversation until she found the one she wanted.

"-refuse to be a party to an absurdity," Anheg was saying.

"Anheg, my friend," King Fulrach of Sendaria said with surprising firmness, "you are my dear brother king, bu you do have a few blind spots. Wouldn't it be more statesmanlike to consider the advantages and disadvantages of the situation dispa.s.sionately."

"The Alorns will never follow her," Anheg declared. "That's a major disadvantage right there."

"The Alorns will follow us, though," King Cho-Hag said quietly. "She's only going to be a figurehead, after all - a symbol of unity."

"I suspect that Cho-Hag's. .h.i.t the exact point we should examine most closely," King Rhodar urged. "My apologies, Baron Mandorallen, but the Arends are totally disunited. Asturia and Mimbre are hovering on the verge of reopening hostilities, and a call from King Korodullin could very possibly be ignored in northern Arendia - in which case the Mimbrate knights would almost be compelled to stay home to defend against possible Asturian uprisings. We have to have someone who can make them forget their squabbles and join with us. We need the Asturian bowmen and the Mimbrate knights."

"I must sadly concur, your Majesty," Mandorallen agreed. "My poor Arendia must needs be united in one cause from the outside. We are not wise enough to unify ourselves."

"Ce'Nedra can serve us there as well as Garion could have done," Barak reasoned. "I don't think anybody expected him to be a general. All we were going to do was put a crown on him and let him ride at the head of the army - and Arends get all gushy and romantic about pretty girls. That betrothal doc.u.ment makes her claim at least semi-legitimate. All we'd have to do is act as if we accepted her and talk very fast. Add the prospect of a nice little war someplace, and the Arends will unite behind us, I think."

"The main point to consider, though," King Rhodar emphasized, "is the impact she's going to have in Tolnedra. Ran Borune dotes on her, and he might agree to lend her his legions - at least some of them - which he'd never do, if we were the ones asking it of him. He'll see the political advantage of having her in command almost immediately. We need those legions. I personally don't like Tolnedrans, but the legions are the finest fighting force in the world. I'll bend my knee to Ce'Nedra if I have to in order to get them. Let her play queen if she wants to."

Ce'Nedra smiled. Things were going even better than she had expected. All in all, she was quite pleased with herself as she sat down at her dressing table and began to brush her hair, humming softly all the while.

Chapter Twenty-three.

DELBAN THE ARMORER WAS a gruff, bald man with broad shoulders, huge callused hands and a grizzled beard. He was a craftsman, an artist, and he had absolutely no respect for anyone. Ce'Nedra found him to be impossible.

"I don't make armor for women," was his initial response to her inquiry when she, accompanied by Durnik the smith, entered his workshop. He had then turned his back on her and begun pounding noisily on a sheet of glowing steel. It took the better part of an hour to convince him even to consider the idea. The heat shimmered out from his glowing forge, and the red brick walls seemed to reflect the heat and intensify it. Ce'Nedra found herself perspiring heavily. She had made some sketches of what she thought might be a suitable design for her armor. All in all, she thought it would look rather nice, but Delban laughed raucously when he saw them.

"What's so amusing?" she demanded.

"You'd be like a turtle in something like that," he replied. "You wouldn't be able to move."

"The drawings are only intended to give you a general idea," she told him, trying to keep a grip on her temper.

"Why don't you be a good girl and take these to a dressmaker?" he suggested. "I work in steel, not brocade or satin. Armor like this would be useless, and so uncomfortable that you wouldn't be able to wear it."

"Then modify it," she grated from between clenched teeth.

He glanced at her design again, then deliberately crumpled her drawings in his fist and threw them into the corner. "Foolishness," he grunted.

Ce'Nedra resisted the urge to scream. She retrieved the drawings. "What's the matter with them?" she persisted.

"Too much here." He stabbed a thick finger at the shoulder represented on the drawing. "You wouldn't be able to lift your arm. And here." He pointed at the armhole on the breastplate she had drawn. "If I make it that tight, your arms would stick straight out. You wouldn't even be able to scratch your nose. As long as we're at it, where did you get the whole notion in the first place? Do you want a mail shirt or a breastplate? You can't have both."

"Why not?"

"The weight. You wouldn't be able to carry it."

"Make it lighter then. Can't you do that?"

"I can make it like cobwebs if you want, but what good would it be if I did? You could cut through it with a paring knife."

Ce'Nedra drew in a deep breath. "Master armorer," she said to him in a level voice, "look at me. In all the world do you think there's a single warrior small enough for me to fight?"

He considered her tiny form, scratching his bald head and looking down at her with pursed lips. "You are a bit undergrown," he admitted. "If you aren't going to fight, why do you need armor?"

"It's not actually going to be armor," she explained to him rather impatiently, "but I need to look like I'm wearing armor. It's sort of in the nature of a costume." She saw instantly that her choice of words had been a mistake. Delban's face darkened, and he threw her drawings away again. It took another ten minutes to mollify him. Eventually, after much wheedling and outrageous flattery, she persuaded him to consider the whole notion as something in the nature of an artistic challenge.

"All right," he surrendered finally with a sour look, "take off your clothes."

"What?"

"Take your dress off," he repeated. "I need exact measurements."

"Do you realize what you're suggesting?"

"Little girl," he said testily, "I'm a married man. I've got daughters older than you are. You are wearing underclothes, aren't you?"

"Yes, but "

"That will satisfy the demands of modesty. Take off the dress."

With a flaming face, Ce'Nedra removed her dress. Durnik the smith, who had watched the entire exchange from the doorway with an open grin on his face, politely turned his back.

"You ought to eat more," Delban told her. "You're as scrawny as a chicken."

"I can do without the comments," she replied tartly. "Get on with this. I'm not going to stand around in my chemise all day."

Delban picked up a piece of stout cord with knots tied in it at regular intervals. He took a great many measurements with the cord, meticulously recording them on a piece of flat board. "All right," he said finally. "That ought to do it. Go ahead and get dressed again."

Ce'Nedra scrambled back into her dress. "How long will it take?" she asked.

"Two or three weeks."

"Impossible. I need it next week."

"Two weeks," he repeated stubbornly.

"Ten days," she countered.

For the first time since she had entered his workshop, the blunt man smiled. "She's used to getting her own way, isn't she?" he observed to Durnik.

"She's a princess," Durnik informed him. "She usually gets what she wants in the end."

"All right, my scrawny little princess." Delban laughed. "Ten days."

Ce'Nedra beamed at him. "I knew you'd see it my way."

Precisely ten days later, the princess, with Durnik once again in tow, returned to Delban's workshop. The mail shirt the craftsman had fashioned was so light that it could almost have been described as delicate. The helmet, hammered from thin steel, was surmounted with a white plume and was encircled with a gold crown. The greaves, which were to protect the fronts of Ce'Nedra's legs, fit to perfection. There was even an embossed shield rimmed with bra.s.s and a light sword with an ornate hilt and scabbard.

Ce'Nedra, however, was staring disapprovingly at the breastplate Delban had made for her. It would quite obviously fit-too well. "Didn't you forget something?" she asked him.

He picked the breastplate up in his big hands and examined it. "It's all there," he told her. "Front, back, all the straps to hook them together. What else did you want?"

"Isn't it a trifle - understated?" Ce'Nedra suggested delicately.

"It's made to fit," he replied. "The understatement isn't my fault."

"I want it a little more-" She made a sort of curving gesture with her hands.

"What for?"

"Never mind what for. Just do it."

"What do you plan to put in it?"

"That's my business. Just do it the way I told you to."

He tossed a heavy hammer down on his anvil. "Do it yourself," he told her bluntly.

"Durnik," Ce'Nedra appealed to the smith.

"Oh, no, princess," Durnik refused. "I don't touch another man's tools. That just isn't done."

"Please, Delban," she wheedled.

"It's foolishness," he told her, his face set.

"It's important," she coaxed. "If I wear it like that, I'll look like a little boy. When people see me, they have to know that I'm a woman. It's terribly, terribly important. Couldn't you - well just a little bit?" She cupped her hands slightly.

Delban gave Durnik a disgusted look. "You had to bring her to my workshop, didn't you?"