The Malloreon: Book 04 - Sorceress of Darshiva

by David Eddings

  ‘By all means, Atesca,’ Zakath gave his consent. ‘I wouldn’t really trust anyone else to do it anyway.’

  Atesca bowed. ‘Your Majesty is very kind,’ he said.

  ‘If I may, your Imperial Majesty,’ Brador said, ‘we’re getting some disturbing reports from Cthol Murgos. Our agents there report that there are some fairly serious negotiations going on between Urgit and the Alorns.’

  ‘The Murgos and the Alorns?’ Zakath asked incredulously. ‘They’ve hated each other for eons.’

  ‘Perhaps they’ve found a common cause,’ Brador suggested delicately.

  ‘Me, you mean?’

  ‘It does seem logical, your Majesty.’

  ‘We have to put a stop to that. I think we’ll have to attack the Alorns. Give them something close to home to worry about so they won’t have time for any adventures in Cthol Murgos.’

  Atesca cleared his throat. ‘May I speak bluntly, your Majesty?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve never heard you speak any other way, Atesca. What’s on your mind?’

  ‘Only an idiot tries to fight a war on two fronts, and only a madman tries to fight one on three. You have this war here in Peldane, another in Cthol Murgos, and now you’re contemplating a third in Aloria. I advise against it in the strongest possible terms.’

  Zakath smiled wryly. ‘You’re a brave man, Atesca,’ he said. ‘I can’t recall the last time somebody called me an idiot and a madman in the same breath.’

  ‘I trust your Majesty will forgive my candor, but that’s my honest opinion of the matter.’

  ‘That’s all right, Atesca.’ Zakath waved one hand as if brushing it aside. ‘You’re here to advise me, not to flatter me, and your plain language definitely got my attention. Very well, we’ll hold off on going to war with the Alorns until we finish up here. I’ll go as far as idiocy; lunacy is something else. The world had enough of that with Taur Urgas.’ He began to pace up and down. ‘Curse you, Belgarion!’ he burst out suddenly. ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘Uh—your Majesty,’ Brador interposed diffidently, ‘Belgarion isn’t in the West. He was seen just last week in Melcene.’

  ‘What’s he doing in Melcene?’

  ‘We weren’t able to determine that, your Majesty. It’s fairly certain that he left the islands, however. We think that he’s somewhere in this general vicinity.’

  ‘Adding to the confusion, no doubt. Keep an eye out for him, Atesca. I really want to have a long talk with that young man. He stalks through the world like a natural disaster.’

  ‘I’ll make a point of trying to locate him for your Majesty,’ Atesca replied. ‘Now, with your Majesty’s permission, I’d like to go supervise the loading of the troops.’

  ‘How long is it going to take you to get to Ferra?’

  ‘Perhaps three or four days, your Majesty. I’ll put the troops to manning the oars.’

  ‘They won’t like that.’

  ‘They don’t have to like it, your Majesty.’

  ‘All right, go ahead. I’ll be along a few days behind you.’

  Atesca saluted and turned to go.

  ‘Oh, by the way, Atesca,’ Zakath said as an afterthought, ‘why don’t you take a kitten on your way out?’ He pointed at a number of prowling, half-grown cats on the far side of the room. His own mackerel-striped tabby was perched high on the mantelpiece with a slightly harried expression on her face.

  ‘Ah . . .’ Atesca hesitated, ‘I’m overwhelmed with gratitude, your Majesty, but cat fur makes my eyes swell shut, and I think I’ll need my eyes during the next few weeks.’

  Zakath sighed. ‘I understand, Atesca,’ he said. ‘That will be all.’

  The general bowed and left the room.

  Zakath considered it. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘if he won’t take a kitten, I suppose we’ll have to give him a field marshal’s baton instead—but only if this campaign of his is successful, you understand.’

  ‘Perfectly, your Majesty,’ Brador murmured.

  The coronation of the Archduke Otrath as Emperor of Mallorea went off quite smoothly. Otrath, of course, was an unmitigated ass and he had to be led by the hand through the ceremony. When it was over, Zandramas installed him on an ornate throne in the palace at Hemil and left instructions that he be flattered and fawned over. Then she quietly left.

  Prince Geran was in the simple room Zandramas had chosen for herself in the temple. A middle-aged Grolim priestess had been watching over him. ‘He’s been very good this morning, Holy Zandramas,’ the priestess advised.

  ‘Good, bad—what difference does it make?’ Zandramas shrugged. ‘You can go now.’

  ‘Yes, Holy Priestess.’ The middle-aged woman genuflected and left the room.

  Prince Geran looked at Zandramas with a grave expression on his little face.

  ‘You’re quiet this morning, your Highness,’ Zandramas said ironically.

  The child’s expression did not change. Though they had been together for over a year, Geran had never shown the slightest sign of affection for her and, perhaps even more disturbing, he had never shown fear either. He held up one of his toys. ‘Ball,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘I suppose so.’ Then, perhaps because his penetrating gaze disturbed her, she crossed the room to stand before her mirror. She pushed back her hood and gazed intently at her reflection. It had not touched her face yet. That was something at least. She looked with distaste at the whirling, sparkling lights beneath the skin of her hands. Then, quite deliberately, she opened the front of her robe and gazed at her nude reflection. It was spreading, there could be no question about that. Her breasts and belly were also underlaid with those self-same whirling points of light.

  Geran had come silently up to stand beside her. ‘Stars,’ he said, pointing at the mirror.

  ‘Just go play, Geran,’ the Child of Dark told him, closing her robe.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As they rode west that afternoon, they could see a heavy, dark purple cloudbank building up ahead of them, rising higher and higher and blotting out the blue of the sky. Finally Durnik rode forward. ‘Toth says that we’d better find shelter,’ he told Belgarath. ‘These spring storms in this part of the world are savage.’

  Belgarath shrugged. ‘I’ve been rained on before.’

  ‘He says that the storm won’t last long,’ Durnik said, ‘but it’s going to be very intense. It should blow through by morning. I really think we should listen to him, Belgarath. It’s not only the rain and wind. He says that there’s usually hail as well, and the hailstones can be as big as apples.’

  Belgarath peered toward the blue-black clouds towering up into the western sky with lightning bolts staggering down from their centers. ‘All right,’ he decided. ‘We wouldn’t be able to go much farther today anyway. Does he know of any shelter nearby?’

  ‘There’s a farm village a league or so ahead,’ Durnik told him. ‘If it’s like the others we’ve passed, there won’t be anybody there. We ought to be able to find a house with enough roof left to keep the hailstones off our heads.’

  ‘Let’s aim for there then. That storm’s moving fast. I’ll call in Beldin and have him take a look.’ He lifted his face, and Garion could feel his thought reaching out.

  They rode at a gallop into a mounting wind that whipped their cloaks about them and carried with it an unpleasant chill and vagrant spatters of cold rain.

  When they crested the hill above the deserted village, they could see the storm front advancing like a wall across the open plain.

  ‘It’s going to be close,’ Belgarath shouted above the wind. ‘Let’s make a run for it.’

  They plunged down the hill through wildly tossing grass and then across a broad belt of plowed ground that encircled the village. The place was walled, but the gate was off its hinges, and many houses showed signs of recent fires. They clattered along a rubble-littered street with the wind screaming at them. Garion heard a loud pop. Then another. Then several more in a growing staccato. �
��Here comes the hail!’ he shouted.

  Velvet suddenly cried out and clutched at her shoulder. Silk, almost without thinking, it seemed, pulled his horse in beside hers and flipped his cloak over her, tenting it protectively with his arm.

  Beldin stood in the dooryard of a relatively intact house. ‘In here!’ he called urgently. ‘The stable doors are open! Get the horses inside!’

  They swung out of their saddles and quickly led their mounts into a cavernlike stable. Then they pushed the doors shut and dashed across the yard to the house.

  ‘Did you check the village for people?’ Belgarath asked the hunchbacked sorcerer as they entered.

  ‘There’s nobody here,’ Beldin told him, ‘unless there’s another bureaucrat hiding in a cellar somewhere.’

  The banging sound outside grew louder until it became a steady roar. Garion looked out the door. Great chunks of ice were streaking out of the sky and smashing themselves to bits on the cobblestones. The chill grew more intense moment by moment. ‘I think we made it just in time,’ he said.

  ‘Close the door, Garion,’ Polgara told him, ‘and let’s get a fire going.’

  The room into which they had come showed signs of a hasty departure. The table and the chairs had been overturned, and there were broken dishes on the floor. Durnik looked around and picked up a stub of candle from the corner. He righted the table, set the candle on a piece of broken plate, and reached for his flint, steel, and tinder.

  Toth went to the window and opened it. Then he reached out, pulled the shutters closed, and latched them.

  Durnik’s candle guttered a bit, then its flame grew steady, casting a golden glow through the room. The smith went to the fireplace. Despite the litter on the floor and the disarray of the furniture, the room was pleasant. The walls had been whitewashed, and the over-head beams were dark and had been neatly adzed square. The fireplace was large and it had an arched opening. A number of pothooks jutted from its back wall, and a pile of firewood was neatly stacked beside it. It was a friendly kind of place.

  ‘All right, gentlemen,’ Polgara said to them. ‘Let’s not just stand there. The furniture needs to be put right, and the floor needs to be swept. We’ll need more candles, and I’ll want to check the sleeping quarters.’

  The fire Durnik had built was catching hold. He gave it a critical look; satisfied, he rose to his feet. ‘I’d better see to the horses,’ he said. ‘Do you want the packs in here, Pol?’

  ‘Just the food and the cooking things for now, dear. But don’t you think you should wait until the hail lets up?’

  ‘There’s a sort of covered walkway along the side of the house,’ he replied. ‘I’d guess that the people who built the place knew about this sort of weather.’ He went out with Toth and Eriond close behind him.

  Garion crossed the room to where Velvet sat on a rude bench with her hand laid protectively over her right shoulder. Her face was pale, and her brow was dewed with sweat.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her.

  ‘It surprised me, that’s all,’ she replied. ‘It’s nice of you to ask, though.’

  ‘Nice my foot!’ He was suddenly angry. ‘You’re like a sister to me, Liselle, and if you let yourself get hurt, I take it as a personal insult.’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty,’ she said, her smile suddenly lighting up the room.

  ‘Don’t play with me, Velvet. Don’t try to be brave. If you’re hurt, say so.’

  ‘It’s only a little bruise, Belgarion,’ she protested. Her large brown eyes conveyed a world of sincerity, mostly feigned.

  ‘I’ll spank you,’ he threatened.

  ‘Now, that’s an interesting notion.’ She laughed.

  He didn’t even think about it. He simply leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

  She looked a little surprised. ‘Why, your Majesty,’ she said in mock alarm. ‘What if Ce’Nedra had seen you do that?’

  ‘Ce’Nedra can cope with it. She loves you as much as I do. I’ll have Aunt Pol look at that shoulder.’

  ‘It’s really fine, Belgarion.’

  ‘Do you want to argue about that with Aunt Pol?’

  She thought about it. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t really think so. Why don’t you send Kheldar over to hold my hand?’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘You could kiss me again, if you’d like.’

  With a certain clinical detachment, Polgara opened the front of Velvet’s gray dress and carefully examined the large purple bruise on the blond girl’s shoulder. Velvet blushed and modestly covered her more salient features.

  ‘I don’t think anything’s broken,’ Polgara said, gently probing the bruised shoulder. ‘It’s going to be very painful, though.’

  ‘I noticed that almost immediately,’ Velvet said, wincing.

  ‘All right, Sadi,’ Polgara said briskly, ‘I need a good analgesic. What would you suggest?’

  ‘I have oret, Lady Polgara,’ the eunuch answered.

  She thought about it. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Oret would incapacitate her for the next two days. Do you have any miseth?’

  He looked a bit startled. ‘Lady Polgara,’ he protested. ‘Miseth is an excellent painkiller, but—’ he looked at the suffering Velvet. ‘There are those side effects, you know.’

  ‘We can control her if necessary.’

  ‘What side effects?’ Silk demanded, hovering protectively over the blonde girl.

  ‘It tends to rouse a certain—ah, shall we say—ardor,’ Sadi replied delicately. ‘In Nyissa it’s widely used for that purpose.’

  ‘Oh,’ Silk said, flushing slightly.

  ‘One drop,’ Polgara said. ‘No. Make that two.’

  ‘Two?’ Sadi exclaimed.

  ‘I want it to last until the pain subsides.’

  ‘Two drops will do that, all right,’ Sadi said, ‘but you’ll have to confine her until it wears off.’

  ‘I’ll keep her asleep if I need to.’

  Dubiously, Sadi opened his red case and removed a vial of deep purple liquid. ‘This is against my better judgment, Lady Polgara,’ he said.

  ‘Trust me.’

  ‘It always makes me nervous when somebody says that,’ Belgarath said to Beldin.

  ‘A lot of things make you nervous. We can’t go anywhere until the girl’s better. Pol knows what she’s doing.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Belgarath replied.

  Sadi carefully measured two drops of the purple medication into a cup of water and stirred the mixture with his finger. Then he rather carefully dried his hand on a piece of cloth. He handed the cup to Velvet. ‘Drink it slowly,’ he instructed. ‘You’ll begin to feel very strange almost immediately.’

  ‘Strange?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘We can talk about it later. All you need to know now is that it’s going to make the pain go away.’

  Velvet sipped at the cup. ‘It doesn’t taste bad,’ she observed.

  ‘Of course not,’ the eunuch replied, ‘and you’ll find that it tastes better and better as you get toward the bottom of the cup.’

  Velvet continued to take small sips of the liquid. Her face grew flushed. ‘My,’ she said, ‘isn’t it warm in here all of a sudden?’

  Silk sat down on the bench beside her. ‘Is it helping at all?’ he asked.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘How’s the shoulder?’

  ‘Did you see my bruise, Kheldar?’ She pulled her dress open to show it to him. She showed him—and everyone else in the room—other things as well. ‘Oops,’ she said absently, not bothering to cover herself.

  ‘I think you’d better take those steps you mentioned, Lady Polgara,’ Sadi said. ‘The situation is likely to get out of hand any minute now.’

  Polgara nodded and put one hand briefly on Velvet’s brow. Garion felt a light surge.

  ‘Suddenly I feel so very drowsy,’ Velvet said. ‘Is the medicine doing that?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ Polgara replied.

  Velvet’s hea
d drooped forward, and she laid it on Silk’s shoulder.

  ‘Bring her along, Silk,’ Polgara told the little man. ‘Let’s find a bed for her.’

  Silk picked the sleeping girl up and carried her from the room with Polgara close beside him.

  ‘Does that stuff always have that effect?’ Ce’Nedra asked Sadi.

  ‘Miseth? Oh yes. It could arouse a stick.’

  ‘And does it work on men, too?’

  ‘Gender makes no difference, your Majesty.’

  ‘How very interesting.’ She gave Garion a sly, sidelong glance. ‘Don’t lose that little bottle, Sadi,’ she said.

  ‘Never mind,’ Garion told her.

  It took them perhaps a quarter of an hour to tidy up the room. Polgara was smiling when she and Silk returned. ‘She’ll sleep now,’ she said. ‘I looked into the other rooms, too. The woman of the house appears to have been a very neat sort of person,’ she said. ‘This is the only room that was seriously disturbed when the family left.’ She set her candle down and smoothed the front of her gray dress with a satisfied expression. ‘The house will do very nicely, uncle,’ she told Beldin.

  ‘I’m glad you approve,’ he replied. He was sprawled on a high-backed bench by the window and was carefully retying the thong that held his ragged left sleeve in place.

  ‘How far are we from the river?’ Belgarath asked him.

  ‘It’s still a ways—a good day’s hard riding at least. I can’t be much more exact than that. When the wind came up, it almost blew off my feathers.’

  ‘Is the country on up ahead still empty?’

  ‘It’s hard to be sure. I was up fairly high, and if there are any people out there, they’d all have taken cover from this storm.’

  ‘We’ll have to have a look in the morning.’ Belgarath leaned back in his chair and stretched his feet out toward the hearth. ‘That fire was a good idea,’ he said. ‘There’s a definite chill in the air.’

  ‘That happens sometimes when you pile three or four inches of ice on the ground,’ Beldin told him. The ugly little man squinted thoughtfully. ‘If this sort of storm is a regular afternoon occurrence around here, we’ll need to cross the Magan during the morning hours,’ he noted. ‘Getting caught in a hailstorm in an open boat isn’t my idea of fun.’