Queen of Sorcery

overgrown street between the low mounds of slush-covered rubble.

Chapter Two
    LELLDORIN OF WILDANTOR Was eighteen years old, although his ingenuous nature made him seem more boyish. No emotion touched him that did not instantly register in his expression, and sincerity shone in his face like a beacon. He was impulsive, extravagant in his declarations, and probably, Garion reluctantly concluded, not overly bright. It was impossible not to like him, however.
    The following morning when Garion pulled on his cloak to go out and continue his watch for Hettar, Lelldorin immediately joined him. The young Arend had changed out of his garish clothing and now wore brown hose, a green tunic, and a dark brown wool cape. He carried his bow and wore a quiver of arrows at his belt; as they walked through the snow toward the broken west wall he amused himself by loosing arrows at targets only half visible ahead of him.
    "You're awfully good," Garion said admiringly after one particularly fine shot.
    "I'm an Asturian," Lelldorin replied modestly. "We've been bowmen for thousands of years. My father had the limbs of this bow cut on the day I was born, and I could draw it by the time I was eight."
    "I imagine you hunt a great deal," Garion said, thinking of the dense forest all around them and the tracks of game he had seen in the snow.
    "It's our most common pastime." Lelldorin stopped to pull the arrow he had just shot from a tree trunk. "My father prides himself on the fact that beef or mutton are never served at his table."
    "I went hunting once, in Cherek."
    "Deer?" Lelldorin asked.
    "No. Wild boars. We didn't use bows though. The Chereks hunt with spears."
    "Spears? How can you get close enough to kill anything with a spear?"
    Garion laughed a bit ruefully, remembering his bruised ribs and aching head. "Getting close isn't the problem. It's getting away after you've speared him that's the difficult part."
    Lelldorin didn't seem to grasp that.
    "The huntsmen form a line," Garion explained, "and they crash through the woods, making as much noise as they can. You take your spear and wait where the boars are likely to pass when they try to get away from the noise. Being chased makes them bad-tempered, and when they see you, they charge. That's when you spear them."
    "Isn't that dangerous?" Lelldorin's eyes were wide.
    Garion nodded. "I almost got all my ribs broken." He was not exactly boasting, but he admitted to himself that he was pleased by Lelldorin's reaction to his story.
    "We don't have many dangerous animals in Asturia," Lelldorin said almost wistfully. "A few bears and once in a while a pack of wolves." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking closely at Garion. "Some men, though, find more interesting things to shoot at than wild stags." He said it with a kind of secretive sidelong glance.
    "Oh?" Garion was not quite sure what he meant.
    "Hardly a day goes by that some Mimbrate's horse doesn't come home riderless."
    Garion was shocked at that.
    "Some men think that there are too many Mimbrates in Asturia," Lelldorin explained with heavy emphasis.
    "1 thought that the Arendish civil war was over."
    "There are many who don't believe that. There are many who believe that the war will continue until Asturia is free of the Mimbrate crown." Lelldorin's tone left no question as to where he stood in the matter.
    "Wasn't the country unified after the Battle of Vo Mimbre?" Garion objected.
    "Unified? How could anybody believe that? Asturia is treated like a subject province. The king's court is at Vo Mimbre; every governor, every tax collector, every bailiff, every high sheriff in the kingdom is a Mimbrate. There's not a single Asturian in a position of authority anywhere in Arendia. The Mimbrates even refuse to recognize our titles. My father, whose line extends back a thousand years, is called landowner. A Mimbrate would sooner bite out his tongue than call him Baron." Lelldorin's face had gone white with suppressed indignation.
    "I didn't know that," Garion said carefully, not sure how to handle the young man's feelings.
    "Asturia's humiliation is almost at an end, however," Lelldorin declared fervently. "There are some men in Asturia for whom patriotism is not dead, and the time is not far off when these men will hunt royal game." He emphasized his statement by snapping an arrow at a distant tree.
    That confirmed the worst of Garion's fears. Lelldorin was a bit too familiar with the details not to be involved in this