The Malloreon: Book 04 - Sorceress of Darshiva

by David Eddings

‘That’s likely to be one of the things he’ll want to discuss with your Majesty. It’s possible that the two of you might be able to work out an accommodation of some kind.’

  ‘Possible, but not very probable.’

  ‘That’s up to his Imperial Majesty, isn’t it?’

  The fog had lifted, but the sky over Darshiva was heavily overcast. As Garion stood in the bow of Atesca’s ship, he caught a scent that was hauntingly familiar. It was a compound of damp rust, stagnant water, and the musty smell of fungus. He peered ahead and saw a forest composed of dead white snags. His heart sank.

  Atesca quietly joined him. ‘I hope your Majesty isn’t offended with me,’ he said. ‘I seem to be making a habit of apprehending you and your friends.’

  ‘You’re only following orders, General,’ Garion said shortly. ‘My quarrel is with your emperor, not with you.’

  ‘You’re a very tolerant man, your Majesty.’

  ‘Not really, General, but I don’t waste my time holding grudges against people who are only doing what they’re told to do.’

  Atesca looked toward the Darshivan shore, less than a mile away. ‘I expect that overcast will burn off by noon,’ he said, smoothly changing the subject.

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it, Atesca,’ Garion said somberly. ‘Did you ever visit Cthol Mishrak?’

  ‘Military people don’t have much reason to visit uninhabited ruins, your Majesty.’

  ‘Cthol Mishrak wasn’t uninhabited,’ Garion told him. ‘The Chandim was there, and the Hounds, and other things I can’t even put names to.’

  ‘Religious fanatics,’ Atesca shrugged. ‘They do things for strange reasons. I’m told it was an unhealthy sort of place.’

  Garion pointed at the Darshivan shore. ‘You’re looking at another one, I’m afraid. I know that Melcenes are almost as sceptical as Tolnedrans, so I don’t know how much you’ll believe of what I’m going to tell you. Do you smell that peculiar odor in the air?’

  Atesca sniffed, then wrinkled his nose. ‘Not very pleasant, is it?’

  ‘Cthol Mishrak smelled exactly the same way. I’d guess that the cloud cover over Darshiva has been there for a dozen years at least.’

  ‘I find that a bit hard to accept.’

  ‘Look at those trees.’ Garion pointed at the snags. ‘What do you think it would take to kill a whole forest?’

  ‘Some kind of disease, I suppose.’

  ‘No, General. Seedlings would have sprouted by now, and there’s not even any undergrowth there. The trees died from lack of sunlight. The only thing growing out there now is fungus. It rains from time to time, and the rain water collects in pools. The sun doesn’t come out to evaporate the water, so it just lies there and stagnates. That’s a part of what you’re smelling.’

  ‘I seem to smell rust, too. Where’s that coming from?’

  ‘I really don’t know. At Cthol Mishrak it came from the ruins of Torak’s iron tower. Darshiva’s shrouded in perpetual gloom because it’s the home of the Child of Dark.’

  ‘I’ve heard the term before. Who is this Child of Dark?’

  ‘Zandramas—at least for the time being. Are you really sure you want to land your troops there?’

  ‘I have my orders, King Belgarion. My troops are well trained. They’ll build a fortified enclave on that shore whether the sun shines or not. Then we’ll wait for the emperor. He has a number of decisions to make—not the least of which is what he’s going to do about you.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  They waited on board Atesca’s ship while the soldiers went ashore and began to build the enclave. The Mallorean troops were quite nearly as efficient as the legions of Imperial Tolnedra, and in a very short period of time they had cleared several acres of ground and erected a neat, orderly city of tents. It was surrounded on the inland side by breastworks, catapults, and a deep ditch bristling with sharpened stakes. A palisade of sharpened poles lined the river’s edge, and a number of floating docks extended out into the water.

  It was midafternoon when Garion and the others disembarked and were escorted to a large, guarded pavilion in the center of the enclave and politely, but firmly, asked to remain inside.

  ‘Have you been able to contact Beldin?’ Silk asked Belgarath in a whisper.

  The old man nodded. ‘He’s working on something.’

  ‘I hope he doesn’t take too long,’ the little man said. ‘I expect that once Zakath gets here, he’ll decide that we need slightly more secure quarters—probably a place involving stout walls and locked doors.’ He made a sour face. ‘I hate jails.’

  ‘Don’t you think you’re exaggerating, Prince Kheldar?’ Ce’Nedra asked. ‘Zakath’s always behaved like a perfect gentleman.’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ he replied with heavy sarcasm. ‘Why don’t you tell that to all those Murgos he crucified on the plains of Hagga? He can be polite when it doesn’t inconvenience him too much, but we’ve seriously irritated him. If we’re not gone by the time he gets here, I expect he’ll show us just how irritated he really is.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Prince Kheldar,’ Eriond said gravely. ‘He just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do yet, that’s all.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Back in Cthol Murgos, Cyradis told him that he was going to come to a crossroads in his life. This is it, I think. Once he makes the right choice, we can be friends again.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘More or less, yes.’

  ‘Polgara, would you please make him stop that?’

  The tent was familiar. It was a Mallorean officer’s pavilion with the usual red carpeting, and furniture which could be easily disassembled. They had been housed in this same kind of pavilion many times in the past. Garion looked around without much interest, then he sprawled on a bench.

  ‘What’s the matter, Garion?’ Ce’Nedra asked, coming over to sit beside him.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? Why don’t they just leave us alone?’

  ‘I think you worry too much,’ she told him. She reached out and touched his forehead with one little finger. ‘Your friend in there isn’t going to let anything happen that’s not supposed to happen, so stop brooding about this. We’re supposed to go to Kell, and Zakath couldn’t stop us, even if he brought his whole army back from Cthol Murgos and piled them in our path.’

  ‘You’re taking this all awfully calmly.’

  ‘I have to believe, Garion,’ she replied with a little sigh. ‘If I didn’t, I’d go insane.’ She leaned forward and kissed him. ‘Now get that grumpy look off your face. You’re starting to look exactly like Belgarath.’

  ‘Of course I am. He’s my grandfather, after all.’

  ‘The resemblance shouldn’t start to show up for several thousand years yet, though,’ she said tartly.

  Two soldiers brought them a supper consisting of standard military rations. Silk opened one of the metal pots and looked inside. He sighed. ‘I was afraid of that.’

  ‘What’s the trouble, Kheldar?’ Sadi asked him.

  ‘Beans,’ Silk replied, pointing at the pot.

  ‘I thought you liked beans.’

  ‘Not to eat, I don’t.’

  Because they had not slept the previous night, they retired early. Garion tossed restlessly for a while and then finally dropped off.

  The following morning they all slept late, and Garion emerged from the curtained-off compartment he shared with Ce’Nedra to find Silk pacing up and down restlessly. ‘Finally,’ the little man said with some relief. ‘I thought everybody was going to sleep till noon.’

  ‘What’s your problem?’ Garion asked him.

  ‘I need somebody to talk to, that’s all.’

  ‘Lonesome?’

  ‘No. Edgy. Zakath’s probably going to show up today. Do you suppose we ought to wake Belgarath?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To find out if Beldin’s come up with a way to get us out of here, naturally.’

  ‘You worry too m
uch.’

  ‘My, aren’t we complacent this morning?’ Silk snapped.

  ‘Not really, but there’s not much point in chewing off all our fingernails over something that’s out of our hands, is there?’

  ‘Garion, why don’t you go back to bed?’

  ‘I thought you were lonesome.’

  ‘Not that lonesome.’

  ‘Has Atesca come by this morning?’

  ‘No. He’s probably fairly busy. He’s going to have to have some sort of campaign mapped out by the time Zakath gets here.’ The little man flung himself into one of the folding chairs. ‘No matter what Beldin comes up with, we’re very likely to have at least a regiment hot on our heels when we ride out of here,’ he predicted, ‘and I hate being chased.’

  ‘We’ve had people chasing us ever since the night we left Faldor’s farm. You should be used to it by now.’

  ‘Oh, I am, Garion. I still don’t like it, though.’

  Perhaps an hour or so later, the others began to wake up, and not long after that, the same red-garbed soldiers brought them breakfast. The two men were the only people they had seen since they had been confined in the pavilion.

  They spent the rest of the morning in desultory conversation. By unspoken agreement, no one mentioned their present situation.

  About noon, General Atesca entered the tent. ‘His Imperial Majesty will arrive shortly,’ he announced. ‘His ships are approaching the docks.’

  ‘Thank you, General,’ Belgarath replied.

  Atesca bowed stiffly and went back out.

  Polgara rose to her feet. ‘Come along, ladies,’ she said to Ce’Nedra and Velvet. ‘Let’s go make ourselves presentable.’

  Sadi looked down at his plain tunic and hose. ‘Hardly suitable for an imperial audience,’ he said. ‘Do you think we ought to change?’

  ‘Why bother?’ Belgarath shrugged. ‘Let’s not give Zakath the impression that we take him seriously.’

  ‘Don’t we?’

  ‘Maybe, but we don’t need to let him know about it.’

  Not much later, the Emperor of Mallorea entered with General Atesca and the Chief of the Bureau of Internal Affairs. As was his custom, Zakath wore a plain linen robe, but he had a scarlet military cape draped across his shoulders. His eyes were once again melancholy, and his pallid lips expressionless. ‘Good day, your Majesty,’ he said to Garion in a flat, emotionless tone. ‘You’ve been well, I trust?’

  ‘Tolerably, your Majesty,’ Garion replied. If Zakath wanted formality, Garion would give him formality.

  ‘Your extensive travels must have been fatiguing,’ Zakath said in that same flat tone, ‘particularly for the ladies. I’ll see to it that your return journey to Mal Zeth is made in easy stages.’

  ‘Your Majesty is very kind, but we’re not going back to Mal Zeth.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Belgarion. You are going back to Mal Zeth.’

  ‘Sorry. I’ve got a pressing engagement elsewhere.’

  ‘I’ll convey your regrets to Zandramas when I see her.’

  ‘I’m sure she’d be overjoyed to hear that I’m not coming.’

  ‘Not for very long, she won’t. I fully intend to have her burned as a witch.’

  ‘Good luck, your Majesty, but I don’t think you’ll find that she’s very combustible.’

  ‘Aren’t you gentlemen being just a little silly?’ Polgara asked then. She had changed into a blue dress and she sat at a table, calmly mending a pair of Eriond’s socks.

  ‘Silly?’ Zakath snapped, his eyes suddenly flashing.

  ‘You’re still friends and you both know it. Now stop behaving like a couple of schoolboys.’

  ‘I think you go too far, Lady Polgara,’ Zakath told her in a frigid tone.

  ‘Really?’ she replied. ‘I thought I’d described the situation rather accurately. You’re not going to put Garion in chains, and he’s not going to turn you into a radish, so stop trying to bully each other.’

  ‘I think we can continue this discussion some other time,’ Zakath said curtly. He bowed slightly to Polgara and left the tent.

  ‘Wasn’t that perhaps a trifle abrupt, Lady Polgara?’ Sadi asked her.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she replied. ‘It cut through a lot of nonsense.’ She carefully folded the socks she had been mending. ‘Eriond, I think it’s time for you to trim your toenails again. You’re cutting your way out of your socks faster than I can mend them.’

  ‘He’s gone back to being the way he was before, hasn’t he?’ Garion said sadly. ‘Zakath, I mean.’

  ‘Not entirely,’ Polgara disagreed. ‘Most of that was a pose to conceal his real feelings.’ She looked at Belgarath. ‘Well, father, has Uncle Beldin come up with anything yet?’

  ‘He was working on something this morning. I can’t talk to him right now because he’s chasing a rabbit. We’ll get back in touch after he finishes his lunch.’

  ‘Can’t he concentrate on business?’

  ‘Oh, come now, Pol. I’ve known you to go out of your way for a fat rabbit on occasion.’

  ‘You don’t!’ Ce’Nedra gasped to Polgara, her eyes wide with sudden horror.

  ‘I really don’t think you’d understand, dear,’ Polgara told her. ‘Why don’t you bring me your gray dress? I noticed a rip in the hem and I’ve already got my sewing box out.’

  They waited out the remainder of the afternoon; after supper, they sat around talking quietly.

  Silk squinted toward the door of the tent, beyond which the guards were posted. ‘Any luck with Beldin yet?’ he whispered to Belgarath.

  ‘He’s working on something—something fairly exotic, I’d imagine, knowing Beldin. He’s still hammering out the details. He’ll tell me the whole thing once he gets it put together.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better if the two of you worked on it together?’

  ‘He knows what he has to do. I’d just get in his way if I tried to stick my oar in, too.’ The old man stretched and yawned. Then he stood up. ‘I don’t know about the rest of you,’ he said, ‘but I think I’ll go to bed.’

  The next morning, Garion rose quietly, dressed, and slipped out of the curtained-off chamber, leaving Ce’Nedra still asleep.

  Durnik and Toth were seated at the table in the main part of the pavilion with Belgarath.

  ‘Don’t ask me how he did it,’ Belgarath was saying. ‘All he told me was that Cyradis agreed to come here when Toth summoned her.’

  Durnik and Toth exchanged a few gestures. ‘He says he can do that,’ the smith translated. ‘Do you want her to come here now?’

  Belgarath shook his head. ‘No, let’s wait until Zakath is in here with us. I know how much it tires her to project her image over long distances.’ He made a face. ‘Beldin suggests that we let the conversation get to a climax before we send for her. Beldin has urges in the direction of melodrama sometimes. We’ve all talked to him about it over the years, but he backslides from time to time. Good morning, Garion.’

  Garion nodded briefly to each of them, then sat at the table. ‘What’s Cyradis going to be able to do that we can’t?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Belgarath replied. ‘We all know that she has a peculiar effect on Zakath, though. He tends to lose his grip on things every time he sees her. Beldin wouldn’t tell me exactly what he’s got in mind, but he sounded disgustingly pleased with himself. Do you feel up to some theatricality this morning?’

  ‘Not really, but I suppose I can manage something.’

  ‘You’re supposed to goad Zakath a little—not too much, mind, but push him into making some threats. That’s when we’re supposed to call Cyradis. Don’t be too obvious about it. Sort of lead him into it gradually.’ The old man looked at Toth. ‘Keep your eyes on me when Garion and Zakath start arguing,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll cover my mouth and cough. That’s when we’ll need your mistress.’

  Toth nodded.

  ‘Are we going to tell the others?’ Garion asked.

  Belgarath squinted.
‘No,’ he decided. ‘Their reactions might be more natural if they don’t know what’s going on.’

  Durnik smiled slightly. ‘I’d say that Beldin isn’t the only one with a flair for the dramatic.’

  ‘I used to be a professional storyteller, Durnik,’ Belgarath reminded him. ‘I can play an audience like a lute.’

  After the others had awakened and breakfast had been served, General Atesca came into the tent. ‘His Imperial Majesty instructs that you make ready. You’ll be departing for Mal Zeth within the hour.’

  Garion moved quickly to head that off. ‘Tell his Imperial Majesty that we’re not going anyplace until we finish the conversation we started yesterday.’

  Atesca looked momentarily startled, then recovered. ‘People do not speak so to the emperor, your Majesty,’ he declared.

  ‘He might find it refreshing, then.’

  Atesca drew himself up. ‘The emperor is otherwise occupied at the moment.’

  Garion leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. ‘We’ll wait,’ he said flatly. ‘That will be all, General.’

  Atesca’s face grew tight, then he bowed stiffly, turned, and went out without another word.

  ‘Garion!’ Ce’Nedra gasped, ‘we’re at Zakath’s mercy, and you were being deliberately rude.’

  ‘He hasn’t been overly polite to me.’ Garion shrugged. ‘I told him we weren’t going back to Mal Zeth, and he ignored me. It appears that sometimes it takes a bit to get his attention.’

  Polgara was looking narrowly at Garion. Then she turned to Belgarath. ‘What are you two up to, father?’ she asked.

  He winked at her, but did not reply.

  It took Kal Zakath approximately two minutes to arrive. He burst into the tent with his eyes wild and his face beet-red. ‘What do you mean?’ he almost screamed at Garion.

  ‘What do you mean, what do I mean?’

  ‘I gave you an imperial command!’

  ‘So? I’m not one of your subjects.’

  ‘This is intolerable!’

  ‘You’ll get used to it. You should know by now that I always do what I set out to do. I thought I’d made that point when we left Mal Zeth. I told you we were going to Ashaba, and that’s exactly what we did.’