Enchanter's End Game

emergency. The queen was positive that an emergency was about to descend on her.
    "This is all your fault, Merel," she bitterly accused her blond friend. "If you'd just left things alone, we wouldn't be in this mess."
    "We'd be a worse one," Merel replied coldly. "Pull yourself together, Islena. It's done now, and you can't undo it."
    "Grodeg terrifies me," Islena blurted.
    "He won't be armed. He won't be able to hurt you."
    "I'm only a woman," Islena quailed. "He'll roar at me in that awful voice of his, and I'll go absolutely to pieces."
    "Stop being such a coward, Islena," Merel snapped. "Your timidity's brought Cherek right to the edge of disaster. Every time Grodeg's raised his voice to you, you've given him anything he wanted just because you're afraid of harsh talk. Are you a child? Does noise frighten you that much?"
    "You forget yourself, Merel," Islena flared suddenly. "I am queen, after alL"
    "Then by all the Gods, be queen! Stop behaving like a silly, frightened serving girl. Sit up straight on your throne as if you had some iron in your backbone - and pinch your cheeks. You're as pale as a bedsheet." Merel's face hardened. "Listen to me, Islena," she said. "If you give even one hint that you're starting to weaken, I'll have Torvik run his spear into Grodeg right here in the throne room."
    "You wouldn't!" Islena gasped. "You can't kill a priest."
    "He's a man just like any other man," Merel declared harshly. "If you stick a spear in his belly, he'll die."
    "Not even Anheg would dare to do that."
    "I'm not Anheg."
    "You'll be cursed!"
    "I'm not afraid of curses."
    Torvik came into the throne room, a broad-bladed boarspear held negligently in one big hand. "He's coming," he announced laconically.
    "Oh, dear," Islena quavered.
    "Stop that!" Merel snapped.
    Grodeg was livid with rage as he strode into the throne room. His white robe was rumpled as if he had thrown it on hastily, and his white hair and beard were uncombed. "I will speak with the queen alone!" he thundered as he approached across the rush-strewn floor.
    "That is the queen's decision to make, not yours, my Lord High Priest," Merel advised him in a flinty voice.
    "Does the wife of the Earl of Trellheim speak for the throne?" Grodeg demanded of Islena.
    Islena faltered, then saw Torvik standing directly behind the tall priest. The boarspear in his hand was no longer so negligently grasped. "Calm yourself, revered Grodeg," the queen said, quite suddenly convinced that the life of the infuriated priest hinged not only on her words but even on her tone of voice. At the tiniest quaver, Merel would give the signal, and Torvik would sink that broad, sharp blade into Grodeg's back with about as much emotion as he showed about swatting a fly.
    "I want to see you alone," Grodeg repeated stubbornly. "
    "No."
    "No?" he roared incredulously.
    "You heard me, Grodeg," she told him. "And stop shouting at me. My hearing is quite good."
    He gaped at her, then quickly recovered. "Why have all my friends been arrested?" he demanded.
    "They were not arrested, my Lord High Priest," the queen replied. "They have all volunteered to join my husband's fleet."
    "Ridiculous!" he snorted.
    "I think you'd better choose your words a bit more carefully, Grodeg," Merel told him. "The queen's patience with your impertinence is wearing thin."
    "Impertinence?" he exclaimed. "How dare you speak that way to me?" He drew himself up and fixed a stern eye on the queen. "I insist upon a private audience," he told her in a thunderous voice.
    The voice which had always cowed her before quite suddenly irritated Islena. She was trying to save this idiot's life, and he kept shouting at her. "My Lord Grodeg," she said with an unaccustomed hint of steel in her voice, "if you bellow at me one more time, I'll have you muzzled."
    His eyes widened in amazement.
    "We have nothing to discuss in private, my Lord," the queen continued. "All that remains is for you to receive your instructions - which you will follow to the letter. It is our decree that you will proceed directly to the harbor, where you will board the ship which is waiting to transport you to Algaria. There you will join the forces of Cherek in the campaign against the Angaraks."
    "I refuse!" Grodeg retorted.
    "Think carefully, my Lord Grodeg," Merel purred. "The queen has given you a royal command. Refusal could be considered treason."
    "I am the High Priest of Belar," Grodeg ground out between clenched teeth, obviously having great