Aunt Pol started quickly toward the edge, but Belgarath reached out and took her arm.’Let him go, Pol,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t be a kindness to save him now. Someone put something in his mind that crushed out his sanity as soon as he was asked that certain question.’
‘Who could possibly do that?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know, but I’m certainly going to find out.’
The shrieking laughter, still fading, continued to echo up to where they stood. And then it ended abruptly far below.
Chapter Twenty-one
A sudden summer storm had come howling in off the Great Western Sea two days after the fight on the cliffs and it raked the island with shrieking winds and sheets of rain that rattled against the windows of the council chamber high in the south tower. The bone-thin Javelin, who had arrived with the others aboard the Seabird that morning, slouched in his chair, looking out at the raging storm and thoughtfully tapping his fingers together. ‘Where did the trail finally lead?’ he asked.
‘Right down to the water’s edge in a secluded cove,’ Garion replied.
‘Then I think we’ll have to assume that his abductor made a clean escape with the prince. The timing might have been a little tight, but the men aboard the ships that were patrolling the coast would have been concentrating on the shore line, and a ship that had gotten well out to sea before they arrived could have escaped their notice.’
Barak was piling an armload of logs in the cavernous fireplace. ‘Why were those others left behind, then?’ he asked. ‘That doesn’t make any sense at all.’
‘We’re talking about Bear-cultists, Barak,’ Silk told him. ‘They’re not supposed to make sense.’
‘There’s a certain logic to it, though,’ the Earl of Seline pointed out. ‘If what that cultist said before he died is true, this Ulfgar has declared war on Belgarion. Isn’t it entirely possible that those men were left behind specifically to waylay him? One way or another, he was certain to follow that trail.’
‘There’s still something that doesn’t quite ring true,’ Javelin frowned. ‘Let me think about it for a bit.’
‘We can sort out their motives later,’ Garion said. ‘The important thing right now is to find out where they’ve taken my son.’
‘Rheon, most likely,’ Anheg said. ‘We’ve destroyed Jarviksholm. Rheon’s the only strong point they’ve got left.’
‘That’s not entirely certain, Anheg,’ Queen Porenn disagreed. ‘This scheme to abduct Prince Geran was obviously planned quite some time ago, and you destroyed Javiksholm only last week. It’s unlikely that the abductors even knew about it. I don’t think we can rule out the possibility that the prince was taken to Cherek.’
Anheg rose and began pacing up and down, a dark scowl on his face. ‘She’s got a point,’ he admitted finally. ‘These child stealers were Chereks, after all. It’s quite possible that they tried to take him to Jarviksholm, but when they found the city destroyed, they had to go someplace else. We could very well find them holed up in a fishing village somewhere on the west coast.’
‘What do we do now, then?’ Garion asked helplessly.
‘We split up,’ King Cho-Hag said quietly. ‘Anheg turns out all his forces, and they search every village and farm in Cherek. The rest of us go to Rheon and deal with those people there.’
‘There’s only one difficulty with that,’ Anheg said. ‘A baby is a baby. How do my men recognize Garion’s son if they do run across him?’
‘That’s no real problem, Anheg,’ Polgara told him from her chair by the fire where she sat sipping a cup of tea. ‘Show them your palm, Garion.’
Garion held up his right hand to show the King of Cherek the silvery mark there.
‘I’d almost forgotten that,’ Anheg grunted. ‘Does Prince Geran have the same mark?’
‘All heirs to the Rivan Throne have that mark on their palms,’ she replied. ‘It’s been that way since the birth of Iron-grip’s first son.’
‘All right,’ Anheg said. ‘My men will know what to look for, but will the rest of you have enough men to take Rheon? With the Algar and Drasnian cultists there, Ulfgar’s got quite an army.’
General Brendig rose and went over to a large map tacked up on one of the walls. ‘If I leave immediately for Sendar, I can put together a sizeable army in a few days. A forced march could put us in Darine within a week.’
‘I’ll have ships waiting there to ferry you and your men to Boktor, then,’ Anheg promised.
‘And I’ll go south and raise the clans,’ Hettar said. ‘We’ll ride straight north to Rheon.’
Garion was also peering at the map. ‘If Anheg’s ships take me and my troops to Boktor, we can join with the Drasnian pikemen there and march toward Rheon from the west,’ he said. ‘Then the ships can go back to Darine and pick up Brendig.’
‘That would save some time,’ Brendig agreed.
‘With the Rivans and Drasnians, you’re going to have enough troops to encircle Rheon,’ Silk said. ‘You might not have enough men to take the city, but you will have enough to keep anybody from going in or out. Then all you have to do is sit and wait for Brendig and Hettar. Once they join you, you’ll have an overwhelming force.’
‘It’s a sound plan, Garion,’ Barak said approvingly.
Mandorallen stood up. ‘And when we arrive at this fortified city on the moors of eastern Drasnia, I will undertake with siege engines and diverse other means to weaken the walls so that we may more easily gain access when we make our final assault,’ he noted. ‘Rheon will fall, and we will bring this miscreant Ulfgar to swift and terrible justice.’
‘Not too swift, I hope,’ Hettar murmured. ‘I was thinking along the lines of something more lingering.’
‘We’ll have time to think about that after we catch him,’ Barak said.
The door opened, and Ce’Nedra, pale and wan-looking and accompanied by Queen Layla and the other ladies, entered. ‘Why are you all still here?’ she demanded. ‘Why aren’t you taking the world apart to find my baby?’
‘That’s hardly fair, Ce’Nedra,’ Garion chided her gently.
‘I’m not trying to be fair. I want my baby.’
‘So do I, but we’re not going to accomplish much by dashing around in circles, are we?’
‘I’ll raise an army myself, if I have to,’ she declared hotly. ‘I did it before and I can certainly do it again.’
‘And just where would you take them, dear?’ Polgara asked her.
‘Wherever it is that they’ve got my baby.’
‘And where is that? If you know something that we don’t, shouldn’t you share it with us?’
Ce’Nedra stared at her helplessly, her eyes filling with tears.
Belgarath had not contributed anything to the discussions, but rather had sat brooding out at the storm from a deep-cushioned chair by the window. ‘I’ve got the feeling that I’m missing something,’ he muttered as Adara and Nerina led the distraught Ce’Nedra to a chair near the council table.
‘What did you say, Belgarath?’ Anheg asked, removing his dented crown and tossing it on the table.
‘I said that I think I’m missing something,’ the old man replied. ‘Anheg, just how extensive is your library?’
The Cherek King shrugged, scratching at his head. ‘I don’t know that I could match the university library at Tol Honeth,’ he admitted, ‘but I’ve gathered most of the significant books in the world.’
‘How does your collection stack up in the area of the mysteries?’
‘Of what?’
‘Prophecies—not so much the Mrin Codex or the Darine—but the others; the Gospels of the Seers at Kell, the Grolim Prophecies of Rak Cthol, the Oracles of Ashaba.’
‘I’ve got that one,’ Anheg told him, ‘the Ashaba thing. I picked it up about a dozen years ago.’
‘I think I’d better go to Val Alor and have a look at it.’
‘This is hardly the time for side trips, Grandfather,’ Garion objected.
&n
bsp; ‘Garion, we know that something’s happening that goes beyond an insurrection by a group of religious fanatics. That passage you found in the Mrin Codex was very specific. It instructed me to look into the mysteries, and I think that if I don’t do exactly that, we’re all likely to regret it.’ He turned to Anheg. ‘Where’s your copy of the Ashabine Oracles?’
‘In the library—up on the top shelf. I couldn’t make any sense out of it, so I stuck it up there. I always meant to get back to it one day.’ Then a thought occurred to him. ‘Oh, by the way, there’s a copy of the Mallorean Gospels in the monastery at Mar Terrin.’
Belgarath blinked.
‘That’s one of the other books you wanted to see, wasn’t it? The one by the Seers of Kell?’
‘How could you possibly know what’s in the library at Mar Terrin?’
‘I heard about it a few years back. I have people who keep their eyes open for rare books. Anyway, I made the monks an offer for it—quite generous, I thought—but the negotiations fell through.’
‘You’re a positive sink of information, Anheg. Can you think of anything else?’
‘I can’t help you with the Grolim Prophecies of Rak Cthol, I’m afraid. The only copy I know of was in Ctuchik’s library, and that was probably buried when you blew Rak Cthol off its mountaintop. You could go dig for it, I suppose.’
‘Thanks, Anheg,’ Belgarath said drily. ‘You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.’
‘I can’t believe that I’m hearing this,’ Ce’Nedra said accusingly to Belgarath. ‘Someone has stolen my baby—your great-grandson—and instead of trying to find him, you’re planning to go off chasing obscure manuscripts.’
‘I’m not abandoning the child, Ce’Nedra. I’m just looking for him in a different place, that’s all.’ He looked at her with a great sympathy in his eyes. ‘You’re still very young,’ he said, ‘and all you can see is the one reality that your baby has been taken from you. There are two kinds of reality, however. Garion is going to follow your child in this reality. I’m going to follow him in the other. We’re all after the same thing and this way we cover all the possibilities.’
She stared at him for a moment, and then she suddenly covered her face with her hands and began to cry. Garion rose, went to her, and put his arms around her. ‘Ce’Nedra,’ he said soothingly, ‘Ce’Nedra, it’s going to be all right.’
‘Nothing will be all right,’ she sobbed brokenly. ‘I’m so afraid for my baby, Garion. Nothing will ever be all right again.’
Mandorallen rose to his feet, tears standing in his eyes. ‘As I am thy true knight and champion, dearest Ce’Nedra, I vow upon my life that the villain Ulfgar will never see another summer.’
‘That sort of gets to the point,’ Hettar murmured. ‘Why don’t we all go to Rheon and nail Ulfgar to a post someplace—with very long nails?’
Anheg looked at Cho-hag. ‘Your son has a remarkably firm grasp of the realities of this situation,’ he observed.
‘He’s the delight of my twilight years,’ Cho-Hag said proudly.
The argument with Ce’Nedra began immediately upon their return to the royal apartment. Garion tried reason first, then commands. Finally, he resorted to threats.
‘I don’t care what you say, Garion, I am going to Rheon.’
‘You are not!’
‘I am so!’
‘I’ll have you locked in the bedroom.’
‘And as soon as you leave, I’ll order someone to unlock the door—or I’ll chop it down—and I’ll be on the next boat out of the harbor.’
‘Ce’Nedra, it’s too dangerous.’
‘So was Thull Mardu—and Cthol Mishrak—and I didn’t flinch from either one. I’m going to Rheon, Garion—either with you or by myself. I’m going to get my baby back—even if I have to tear down the city walls with my bare hands.’
‘Ce’Nedra, please.’
‘No!’ she exclaimed, stamping her foot. ‘I’m going, Garion, and nothing you can say or do is going to stop me!’
Garion threw his arms in the air. ‘Women!’ he said in a despairing tone.
The fleet left at dawn the following morning, sailing out of the harbor into rough seas and the dirty scud and wrack of the tail-end of the storm.
Garion stood on the aft deck of the Seabird beside Barak, whose thick hands firmly grasped the tiller. ‘I didn’t think I was ever going to have to do this again,’ he said morosely.
‘Oh, sailing in rough weather isn’t all that bad.’ Barak shrugged as the wind tossed his red beard.
‘That’s not what I meant. I thought that after Torak died, I could live out my life in peace.’
‘You got lucky,’ Barak told him.
‘Are you trying to be funny?’
‘All anybody ever got out of peace was a fat behind and cobwebs in his head,’ the big man said sagely. ‘Give me a nice friendly little war any time.’
When they were some leagues at sea, a detachment of ships separated from the fleet to sail due east toward Sendar, bearing with them King Fulrach, General Brendig, the Earl of Seline, and the heavily sedated Queen Layla.
‘I hope Brendig gets to Darine on time,’ Anheg said, standing at the rail. ‘I’m really going to need those ships during the search.’
‘Where do you plan to start?’ Queen Porenn asked him.
‘The cult’s largely concentrated on the west coast,’ he replied. ‘If Prince Geran’s abductors went to Cherek, they’d most likely head for a cult stronghold. I’ll start along the coast and work my way inland.’
‘That seems like sound strategy.’ she agreed, ‘Deploy your men and sweep the area.’
‘Porenn,’ he said with a pained look, ‘I love you like a sister, but please don’t use military terms when you talk to me. It sets my teeth on edge to hear that sort of language in a woman’s mouth.’
The passage through the Cherek Bore delayed them for two days. Although Greldik and a few other hardy souls were willing—even eager—to attempt the Great Maelstrom in the heavy seas that were the aftermath of the storm, cooler and more prudent heads prevailed. ‘I’m sure the sea will quiet down in a bit,’ Barak shouted across to his friend, ‘and Rheon isn’t going anyplace. Let’s not lose any ships if we don’t have to.’
‘Barak,’ Greldik shouted back, ‘you’re turning into an old woman.’
‘Anheg said the same thing just before Jarviksholm,’ Barak noted.
‘He’s a wise king.’
‘It isn’t his ship.’
After they passed the Bore and entered the calmer waters of the Gulf of Cherek, King Anheg took a sizeable portion of the fleet and sailed northward toward Val Alorn. Before making the transfer to one of Anheg’s ships, Belgarath stood on deck, talking quietly with Garion and Polgara. ‘As soon as I finish at Val Alorn, I’ll go on down to Mar Terrin,’ he told them. ‘If I don’t get back before you arrive at Rheon, be careful. The cult’s pretty fanatic, and this war they’ve started is directed at you personally, Garion.’
‘I’ll watch out for him, father,’ Polgara assured him.
‘I can more or less take care of myself, Aunt Pol,’ Garion told her.
‘I’m sure you can, dear,’ she replied, ‘but old habits die hard.’
‘How old am I going to have to be before you realize that I’m grown up?’
‘Why don’t you check back with me in a thousand years or so?’ she said. ‘Maybe we can talk about it then.’
He smiled, then sighed. ‘Aunt Pol,’ he said, ‘I love you.’
‘Yes, dear,’ she replied, patting his cheek, ‘I know, and I love you, too.’
At Kotu, the ship carrying Hettar and his wife and parents turned south toward Aldurford. ‘I’ll meet you at Rheon in about three weeks,’ the hawk-faced Algar called across to the Seabird. ‘Save a little bit of the fighting for me.’
‘Only if you hurry,’ Lelldorin shouted back blithely.
‘I’m not sure which is worse,’ Polgara murmured to Ce’Nedra, ‘Arends
or Alorns.’
‘Could they possibly be related?’ Ce’Nedra asked.
Aunt Pol laughed, then wrinkled her nose as she looked at the wharves of Kotu. ‘Come, dear,’ she said, ‘Let’s go below. Harbors always have the most distressing odors about them.’
The fleet passed Kotu and filed into the mouth of the Mrin River. The current was sluggish, and the fens lay green and soggy on either side. Garion stood near the bow of the Seabird, idly watching the gray-green reeds and scrubby bushes slide by as the oarsmen pulled steadily upstream.
‘Ah, there you are, Garion,’ Queen Porenn said, coming up behind him. ‘I thought we might talk for a few minutes.’
‘Of course.’ He had a rather special feeling for this small, blonde woman, whose courage and devotion bespoke at once an enormous affection and an iron-clad resolve.
‘When we reach Boktor, I want to leave Kheva at the palace. I don’t think he’s going to like it very much, but he’s just a little young for battles. If he gets stubborn about it, could you order him to stay behind?’
‘Me?’
‘You’re the Overlord of the West, Garion,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m only his mother.’
‘Overlord of the West is an over-rated title, I’m afraid.’ He tugged absently at one ear. ‘I wonder if I could possibly persuade Ce’Nedra to stay in Boktor as well,’ he mused.
‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘Kheva might accept you as his superior, but Ce’Nedra looks upon you as her husband. There’s a difference, you know.’
He made a wry face. ‘You’re probably right,’ he admitted. ‘It’s worth a try, though. How far up the Mrin can we go by boat?’
‘The north fork runs into a series of shallows about twenty leagues above Boktor,’ she replied. ‘I supppose we could portage around them, but it wouldn’t accomplish very much. Ten leagues farther upstream you come to another stretch of shallows, and then there are the rapids. We could spend a great deal of time pulling the boats out of the water and then putting them back in again.’
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