The priestess Chabat’s eyes were narrowed, and her expression cunning. ‘Finding that truth is a simple matter, your Majesty,’ she declared. ‘My master Agachak is the most powerful sorcerer in all of Cthol Murgos. He will have no difficulty in probing the minds of all who are here to find out who is speaking truth and who is lying.’
‘Can you really do that, Agachak?’ Urgit asked.
Agachak shrugged. ‘It’s a simple matter.’
‘Then by all means, do it. I’m not going on board that scow over there until I find out exactly who my shipmates are going to be.’
Agachak took a deep breath and began to draw in his will.
‘Master!’ a Grolim with a purple satin lining on the hood of his robe exclaimed, leaping forward with one hand outstretched. ‘Beware!’
‘How dare you?’ Chabat shrieked at him, her eyes blazing.
The Grolim ignored her. ‘Master,’ he said to Agachak, ‘there is great danger in what the priestess proposes. Should either of these men be telling the truth, you will be probing the mind of a powerful sorcerer, and your own mind will be totally vulnerable. A single thought could erase your entire consciousness.’
Agachak slowly relaxed his will. ‘Ah, yes,’ he murmured. ‘I had not considered that danger.’ He turned to Chabat, catching the brief flicker of disappointment that crossed her face. ‘How curious that my Holy Priestess did not think of that before she suggested the probing—or did you, Chabat? Have you given up the notion of raising a demon to destroy me, then? Will you now fall back on so commonplace a thing as simple deceit? I’m terribly disappointed in you, my beloved.’
She shrank back, her scar-laced face frightened.
‘This matter has to be settled, Agachak,’ Urgit said. ‘I’m not going to go near that ship until I find out the truth here. I haven’t succeeded in staying alive for all these years by being foolhardy.’
‘The question is largely academic now anyway,’ Agachak replied. ‘None of these people will be leaving.’
‘Agachak, I have to get to Rak Cthaka immediately.’
‘Then go. I will find another party of slavers and hire another Dagashi.’
‘That could take months,’ Urgit protested. ‘Personally, I’m inclined to believe these slavers. Ussa has been very honest with me, and the young man over there has none of the bearing of a king. This one who calls himself Kabach, however, is highly suspect. If you were to look along the trail between here and Mount Kahsha, I think you might find the real Kabach in a shallow grave someplace. This man—whoever he is—has come very close to forestalling the mission to Rak Hagga with his accusation. Wouldn’t that be exactly what Urvon would want?’
‘There’s a logic to what you say, your Majesty, but I don’t think I want any of them going on board that ship until I find out the truth.’
‘Why not let them settle it for us, then?’
‘I don’t follow you.’
‘One of them—or possibly both—is a sorcerer. Let them fight each other, and we’ll see which one tries to destroy the other by sorcery.’
‘Trial by combat?’
‘Why not? It’s a bit antique, but the circumstances here seem to be appropriate.’
‘There is merit in your plan, your Majesty.’
Urgit suddenly grinned. ‘Why don’t we clear a space?’ he suggested. ‘We wouldn’t want to get singed when these two start hurling thunderbolts at each other.’ He came over and took Garion’s arm. ‘Just stay calm,’ he whispered, ‘and don’t do anything conspicuous. Try to force him to use sorcery.’ Then he pushed Garion forward into the circle that had quickly been formed on the stone quay. ‘Here is the supposed King of Riva,’ he said to Agachak. ‘Now, if the ostensible Mallorean Grolim will be so good as to step forth, we’ll find out who’s been telling the truth.’
‘I have no sword,’ Harakan said sullenly.
‘Simplicity in itself. Somebody give him a sword.’
Several were offered at once.
‘I think you’re in deep trouble, Harakan,’ Urgit smirked. ‘If you so much as twitch one finger, you’ll reveal yourself as a Mallorean Grolim, and my soldiers will shoot you full of arrows. On the other hand, if this is really Belgarion and you don’t use sorcery to defend yourself, he’ll burn you right down into a little pile of cinders. All in all, I think you’re in for a very bad afternoon.’
Garion ground his teeth together and began talking fervently to the Orb, telling the stone over and over again not to do anything out of the ordinary. Then he steeled himself and reached back over his shoulder. The great blade made a steely hiss as it came out of the scabbard.
Harakan handled his borrowed sword nervously, but the way he held it and his stance clearly indicated that he was a competent swordsman. A sudden anger filled Garion. This was the man who had been responsible for the attempt on Ce’Nedra’s life and for the murder of Brand. He dropped into a half crouch with Iron-grip’s sword extended in front of him. Harakan desperately tried to slap that great blade away with his own sword, and there was a steely ring as the two swords came together. Implacably, Garion stalked his enemy. His anger was so great that he had even forgotten the reason for this duel. He was no longer interested in unmasking Harakan. All he wanted to do was to kill him.
There was a rapid exchange of thrusts and parries, and the entire harbor rang with the steel song of the swords. Step by step Harakan retreated, and his eyes began to fill with fear. But finally Garion lost all patience with fencing. With his eyes ablaze he seized the hilt of his huge sword in both hands and swung it back over his shoulder. Had he delivered that blow, nothing could have stopped it.
Harakan’s cheeks blanched as he looked directly into the face of death. ‘Curse you!’ he shouted at Garion, then flickered and vanished, to reappear briefly at the far end of the quay. He shimmered and swooped away in the form of a swift sea hawk.
‘That sort of answers the question, doesn’t it, Agachak?’ Urgit said quite calmly.
Agachak, however, his eyes ablaze with hate, also flashed into the form of a hawk. With two powerful strokes of his pinions, he drove himself into the air, shrieking for blood as he raced after the fleeing Harakan.
Garion’s hands were shaking. He turned and stalked toward Urgit with a scorching fury rising in his throat. With a great effort he restrained his sudden desire to take hold of the front of the smaller man’s doublet and hurl him far out into the harbor.
‘Now—now don’t be hasty,’ Urgit said, backing fearfully away.
Garion spoke from between clenched teeth in a dreadfully quiet voice. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’
‘Naturally not,’ Urgit agreed hastily. He stopped, a curious expression suddenly crossing his rat-like face. ‘Are you really Belgarion?’ he asked in a hoarse whisper.
‘Would you like some proof?’
‘No, no—that’s quite all right.’ Urgit’s words came tumbling out. He stepped quickly around the still infuriated Garion and crossed the quay to where Chabat stood. ‘Let us pray that your Hierarch succeeds in capturing that imposter,’ he said. ‘Give him my regards upon his return. I’d wait, but I must board ship and depart at once.’
‘Of course, your Majesty,’ she replied in a voice that was nearly a purr. ‘I will take charge of these slavers until the Hierarch’s return.’
He stared at her.
‘Since the entire purpose of this mission was to convey the Dagashi assassin to Rak Hagga, there’s no point in their going now, is there? They will have to remain here while we send to Kahsha for another Dagashi.’ She looked at Sadi with an unconcealed smirk. ‘I will place them under my personal protection.’
Urgit looked at her narrowly. ‘Holy Priestess,’ he said to her, ‘to be quite candid about it, I don’t think you can be trusted. Your personal enmity toward this Nyissan is painfully obvious, and he’s far too important to risk. I don’t think that you would be able to restrain yourself, once both Agachak and I are gone from Rak Urga. I think I’ll
just take Ussa and his people with me—just to be on the safe side. When the Dagashi arrives from Mount Kahsha, send him along.’
Chabat’s eyes hardened, and her face grew angry. ‘The purpose of the mission to Rak Hagga is to fulfill a prophecy,’ she declared, ‘and the fulfillment of prophecy is clearly in the domain of the Church.’
Urgit drew in a deep breath. Then he straightened from his usual slouching posture. ‘The mission is also a State matter, Holy Priestess. Agachak and I have been co-operating in this affair, and in his absence I assert the authority of the crown. Ussa and his people will go with me, and you will take your Grolims back to the Temple to await the return of your Hierarch.’
Chabat seemed taken aback by his sudden show of strength. She had obviously expected to brush aside any feeble objections he might raise, but this seemed to be a new Urgit. Her face hardened, and the flamelike scars writhed on her pale cheeks. ‘So,’ she said, ‘it appears that our king is finally maturing. I think, however, that you will come to regret your passage into manhood at this particular time. Watch closely, High King of Cthol Murgos.’ She bent, holding something in her hand, and began to mark symbols on the stones of the quay—symbols that glowed with an unholy light.
‘Garion!’ Silk cried in alarm, ‘stop her!’
But Garion had also seen the glowing circle Chabat had drawn on the wet stones and the burning five-pointed star she was inscribing in its center and he recognized the meaning of those symbols immediately. He took a half step toward Chabat, even as she stepped into the protection of the circle and began muttering words in some unknown language.
As fast as he was, however, Polgara was even faster. ‘Chabat!’ she said sharply, ‘Stop! This is forbidden!’
‘Nothing is forbidden to one who has the power,’ the priestess replied, her scarred and beautiful face filled with an overwhelming pride, ‘and who here can prevent me?’
Polgara’s face grew grim. ‘I can,’ she said calmly. She raised her hand in a curious lifting gesture, and Garion felt the surge of her will. The sullen swells washing against the stones of the quay slowly rose until they broke across the top to swirl about the ankles of those who stood there. The burning symbols Chabat had marked on the stones vanished as the water washed over them.
The Grolim priestess drew in her breath sharply and stared at Polgara, realization slowly dawning in her eyes. ‘Who are you?’
‘One who would save your life, Chabat,’ Polgara answered. ‘The punishment for raising demons has always been the same. You might succeed once or twice—or even a few more times—but in the end, the demon will turn on you and tear you to pieces. Not even Torak in all his twisted madness would have dared to step across this line.’
‘But I do dare! Torak is dead, and Agachak is not here to prevent me. No one can stop me.’
‘I can, Chabat,’ Polgara said quietly. ‘I will not permit you to do this.’
‘And how will you stop me? I have the power.’
‘But mine is greater.’ Polgara let her cloak fall to the stones at her feet, bent, and removed her shoes. ‘You may have been able to control your demon the first time you raised him,’ she said, ‘but your control is only temporary. You are no more than the doorway through which he enters this world. As soon as he feels his full strength, he will destroy you and be loosed upon this world to raven as he chooses. I beg of you, my sister, do not do this. Your life—and your very soul—are in deadly peril.’
‘I have no fear,’ Chabat rasped. ‘Not of my demon and not of you.’
‘Then you’re a fool—on both counts.’
‘You challenge me?’
‘If I must. Will you meet me on my own ground, Chabat?’ Polgara’s blue eyes were suddenly like ice, and the white lock at her brow flamed incandescently as she gathered in her will. Once again she raised her hand and the lead-gray swells again raised obediently to the edge of the quay. With that same dreadful calm, she stepped out onto the surface of the water and stood there, as if what lay under her feet was firm earth. A sudden moan rose from the Grolims as she turned to look at the awestricken priestess. ‘Well, Chabat,’ she said, ‘will you join me here? Can you join me?’
Chabat’s scarred face grew ashen, but her eyes clearly showed that she could not refuse Polgara’s challenge. ‘I will,’ she rasped through clenched teeth. Then she, too, stepped off the quay, but floundered awkwardly as she sank to the knees in the dirty waters of the harbor.
‘Is it so very difficult for you, then?’ Polgara asked her. ‘If this little thing takes all of your will, how do you imagine that you will have enough power to control a demon? Abandon this desperate plan, Chabat. There is still time to save your own life.’
‘Never!’ Chabat shrieked with flecks of froth coming to her lips. With an enormous effort, she lifted herself until she stood on the surface and laboriously strode out several yards. Then, with her face once again twisted into that overwhelming triumph, she drew the symbols on the face of the water, inscribing them with sooty orange flame. Her voice rose again in the evil incantation of the summoning, rising and falling in its hideous cadences. The red scars on her cheeks seemed to grow pale, then suddenly glowed with a burning white light as she continued to recite the spell.
‘Kheldar, what’s happening?’ Urgit’s voice was shrill as he stared at the impossibility that was occurring before his eyes.
‘Something very unpleasant,’ Silk told him.
Chabat’s voice had risen to a shriek, and the surface of the harbor suddenly erupted before her in a seething cauldron of steam and fire. Out of the midst of those flames there arose something so hideous that it was beyond comprehension. It was vast and clawed and fanged, but the worst of all were its red, glowing eyes.
‘Kill her!’ Chabat cried, pointing at Polgara with a trembling hand. ‘I command thee to kill this witch!’
The demon looked at the priestess standing safely within the flaming circle of her protective symbols and then, with the still-boiling water surging around his vast trunk, he turned and started toward Polgara. But, with her face still calm, she raised one hand. ‘Stop!’ she commanded, and Garion felt the enormous jolting force of her will.
The demon suddenly howled, his fanged muzzle lifted toward the gray clouds in a sudden agony of frustration.
‘I said kill her!’ Chabat shrieked again.
The monster slowly sank into the water, extending his two huge arms just beneath the surface. He began to turn, rotating slowly in the seething water. Faster and faster he spun, with the water sizzling around him. A vortex began to appear around him as he whirled, a sudden maelstrom very nearly as dreadful as the Cherek Bore.
Chabat howled her triumph, dancing on the surface of the water in an obscene caper, unaware that the flames with which she had drawn her symbols had been suddenly whirled away by the surging vortex.
As the spinning waters reached the spot where Polgara stood, she began to be drawn toward the deadly whirlpool and the slavering demon still whirling in its center.
‘Pol!’ Durnik shouted. ‘Look out!’
But it was too late. Caught in that inexorable maelstrom, she was carried round and round, slowly at first but then faster and faster as she was pulled in long spirals toward the center. As she neared it, however, she once again raised her hand and very suddenly she disappeared beneath the surging surface.
‘Pol!’ Durnik shouted again, his face suddenly gone deathly white. Struggling to pull off his tunic, he ran toward the edge of the quay. Belgarath, however, his face grimly set, caught the smith’s arm. ‘Stay out of it, Durnik!’ he snapped, his voice cracking like a whip.
Durnik struggled with him, trying to pull himself free. ‘Let me go!’ he yelled.
‘I said not to interfere!’
Beyond the edge of the demon-created vortex, a single rose bobbed to the surface. It was a curiously familiar flower, its petals white on the outside and a deep, blushing crimson in the center. Garion stared at it, a sudden wild hope springin
g up in him.
At the center of the swirling vortex, the monstrous demon suddenly stopped, his burning eyes filled with bafflement. Without any warning he rose, arched forward, and plunged headfirst into the seething water.
‘Find her!’ the flame-marked Chabat screamed after her enslaved fiend. ‘Find her and kill her!’
The leaden waters of the harbor boiled and steamed as the huge demon surged this way and that beneath the surface. Quite suddenly, the movement stopped, and the air and the water grew deadly calm.
Chabat, still standing on the water and with the glowing light still illuminating the cruel scars on her cheeks, lifted both arms above her head in a gesture of exaltation. ‘Die, witch!’ she shouted. ‘Feel the fangs of my servant rend your flesh!’
Suddenly a monstrous, scaly claw came up out of the water directly in front of her. ‘No!’ she shrieked, ‘you cannot!’ Then she looked in horror at the water upon which she stood, realizing at last that her protective symbols had been swept away. She took a faltering step backward, but the huge hand closed on her, its needle-sharp claws biting deeply into her body. Her blood spurted, and she screamed in agony, writhing in that awful grasp.
Then, with a huge bellow, the demon rose from the depths with his great, fanged muzzle agape. He lifted the struggling priestess aloft with a howl of hellish triumph. The Grolims and the Murgo soldiers on the quay broke and fled in terror as the monster started toward them.
The single rose that had floated to the surface of the harbor, however, had begun to glow with a strange blue light. It seemed to grow larger as the glow intensified. Then, her face calm, Polgara appeared in the very center of that coruscating incandescence. A few feet to her left there also appeared a nimbus of flickering light. Before the stunned eyes of those on the quay, the nimbus suddenly coalesced, and there, standing beside Polgara, Garion saw the glowing form of the God Aldur.
‘Must it be so, Master?’ Polgara asked in a voice that clearly revealed her reluctance.
King Of The Murgos Page 31