His pavilion stood in the center of the camp of the Malloreans, a vast sea of tents standing on the plains of Mishrak ac Thull. The earthen floor of the pavilion was covered with priceless Mallorean carpets, and the polished tables and chairs were inlaid with gold and with mother of pearl. Candles filled the pavilion with glowing light. Somewhere nearby, a small group of musicians played subdued melodies set in a minor key.
The Emperor's only companion was a half grown cat, a common, mackerel-striped tabby with that gangling, long-legged awkwardness of the adolescent feline. While 'Zakath watched with a sort of sad-eyed amusement, the young cat stalked a scrap of balled-up parchment, her feet noiseless on the carpet and her face set in a look of intent concentration.
As Princess Ce'Nedra and her companions were escorted into the pavilion, 'Zakath, seated on a low, cushioned divan, held up his hand for silence, his eyes still fixed on the cat.
"She hunts," the Emperor murmured in a dead voice.
The cat crept nearer to her intended prey, crouched and shifted her hind feet nervously, her bottom twitching from side to side and her tail lashing. Then she leaped at the parchment. The ball crackled as she pounced on it, and, startled, she jumped high into the air. She batted the ball experimentally with one paw; suddenly finding a new game, she bounded it across the floor with a series of soft-pawed jabs, scampering after it with awkward enthusiasm.
'Zakath smiled sadly. "A young cat," he said, "with much yet to learn." He rose gracefully to his feet and bowed to Ce'Nedra. "Your Imperial Highness," he greeted her formally. His voice was resonant, but there was that peculiar deadness in it.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Ce'Nedra replied, inclining her head in response.
"Please, Goodman," 'Zakath said to Durnik, who was supporting the still-dazed Polgara, "let the lady rest here." He indicated the divan. "I'll send for my physicians, and they will see to her indisposition."
"Your Majesty is too kind." Ce'Nedra mouthed the ritual phrase, but her eyes were searching 'Zakath's face for some hint of his real intentions. "One is surprised to meet such courtesy-under the circumstances."
He smiled again, rather whimsically. "And, of course, all Malloreans are supposed to be raving fanatics - like Murgos. Courtesy is out of character, right?"
"We have very little information about Mallorea and its people," the princess responded. "I was not certain what to expect."
"That's surprising," the Emperor observed. "I have a great deal of information about your father and your Alorn friends."
"Your Majesty has the aid of Grolims in gathering intelligence," Ce'Nedra said, "while we must rely on ordinary men."
"The Grolims are overrated, Princess. Their first loyalty is to Torak; their second to their own hierarchy. They tell me only what they want to tell me - although periodically I manage to have a bit of additional information extracted from one of them. It helps to keep the rest of them honest."
An attendant entered the pavilion, fell to his knees, and pressed his face to the carpet.
"Yes?" 'Zakath inquired.
"Your Imperial Majesty asked that the King of Thulldom be brought here," the attendant replied.
"Ah, yes. I'd nearly forgotten. Please excuse me for a moment, Princess Ce'Nedra - a small matter requiring my attention. Please, you and your friends make yourselves comfortable." He looked critically at Ce'Nedra's armor. "After we've dined, I'll have the women of my household see to more suitable clothing for you and for Lady Polgara. Does the child require anything?" He looked curiously at Errand, who was intently watching the cat.
"He'll be all right, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra replied. Her mind was working very rapidly. This urbane, polished gentleman might be easier to deal with than she had anticipated.
"Bring in the King of the Thulls," 'Zakath ordered, his hand wearily shading his eyes.
"At once, your Imperial Majesty," the attendant said, scrambling to his feet and backing out of the pavilion, bent in a deep bow.
Gethell, the King of Mishrak ac Thull, was a thick-bodied man with lank, mud-colored hair. His face was a pasty white as he was led in, and he was trembling violently. "Y-Your Imperial Majesty," he stammered in a croaking voice.
"You forgot to bow, Gethell," 'Zakath reminded him gently. One of the Mallorean guards doubled his fist and drove it into Gethell's stomach. The Thull monarch doubled over.
"Much better," 'Zakath said approvingly. "I've asked you here in regard to some distressing news I received from the battlefield, Gethell. My commanders report that your troops did not behave well during the engagement at Thull Mardu. I am no soldier, but it seems to me that your men might have stood at least one charge by the Mimbrate knights before they ran away. I'm informed however, that they did not. Have you any explanation for that?"
Gethell began to babble incoherently.
"I thought not," 'Zakath told him. "It's been my experience that the failure of people to do what's expected of them is the result of poor leadership. It appears that you've not taken the trouble to encourage your men to be brave. That was a serious oversight on your part, Gethell."
"Forgive me, dread 'Zakath," the King of the Thulls wailed, falling to his knees in terror.
"But of course I forgive you, my dear fellow," 'Zakath told him. "How absurd of you to think that I wouldn't. A reprimand of some sort is in order, though, don't you think?"
"I freely accept full responsibility," Gethell declared, still on his knees.
"Splendid, Gethell. Absolutely splendid. I'm so glad that this interview is going so well. We've managed to avoid all kinds of unpleasantness." He turned to the attendant. "Would you be so good as to take King Gethell out and have him flogged?" he asked.
"At once, your Imperial Majesty."
Gethell's eyes started from his head as the two soldiers dragged him to his feet.
"Now," 'Zakath mused. "What do we do with him after we've flogged him?" He thought a moment. "Ah, I know. Is there any stout timber in the vicinity?"
"It's all open grassland, your Imperial Majesty."
"What a pity." 'Zakath sighed. "I was going to have you crucified, Gethell, but I suppose I'll have to forgo that. Perhaps an extra fifty lashes will serve as well."
Gethell began to blubber.
"Oh, come now, my dear fellow, that just won't do. You are a king, after all, and you absolutely must provide a good example for your men. Run along now. I have guests. One hopes that the sight of your public flogging will give your troops greater incentive to do better. They'll reason that if I'd do that to you, then what I'll do to them will be infinitely worse. When you recover, encourage them in that belief, because the next time this happens, I'll have made arrangements to have the necessary timber on hand. Take him away," he said to his men without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
"Forgive me for the interruption, your Highness," he apologized. "These little administrative details consume so much of one's time." The King of the Thulls was dragged sobbing from the pavilion. "I've ordered a small supper for you and your friends, Princess Ce'Nedra," 'Zakath continued. "All the finest delicacies. Then I'll make arrangements for the absolute comfort of you and your companions."
"I hope that this won't offend your Imperial Majesty," Ce'Nedra began bravely, "but one is curious about your plans in regard to our future."
"Please set your mind at rest, your Highness," 'Zakath replied in his dead-sounding voice. "Word has reached me that the madman, Taur Urgas, is dead. I will never be able to repay you for that service, and I bear you absolutely no ill will whatsoever." He glanced toward one corner of his tent where his cat, purring ecstatically, was lying on her back in Errand's lap with all four paws in the air. The smiling child was gently stroking her furry belly. "How charming," 'Zakath murmured in an oddly melancholy voice.
Then the Emperor of boundless Mallorea rose and approached the divan where Durnik supported Lady Polgara. "My Queen," he said, bowing to her with profound respect. "Your beauty quite transcends all reports."
Polgara opened her eyes and gave him a level gaze. A wild hope leaped in Ce'Nedra's heart. Polgara was conscious.
"You are courteous, my Lord," Polgara told him in a weak voice.
"You are my queen, Polgara," 'Zakath told her, "and I can now understand my God's ages-old longing for you." He sighed then as his apparently habitual melancholy descended upon him once again.
"What are you going to do with us?" Durnik asked, his arms still holding Polgara protectively.
'Zakath sighed again. "The God of my people is not a good or kindly God," he told the smith. "If the arranging of things had been left to me, all might have been different. I was not consulted, however. I am Angarak, and I must bow to the will of Torak. The sleep of the Dragon God grows fitful, and I must obey his commands. Though it wounds me deeply, I must turn you and your companions over to the Grolims. They will deliver you up to Zedar, disciple of Torak in Cthol Mishrak, City of Night, where he will decide your fate."
PART THREE - MALLOREA
Chapter Nineteen
THEY REMAINED FOR nearly a week in the Imperial compound as the personal guests of the Emperor 'Zakath, who for some strange reason seemed to take a melancholy pleasure in their company. Quarters were provided for them within the labyrinth of silken tents and pavilions that sheltered 'Zakath's household staff, and their every comfort received the personal attention of the Emperor himself.
The strange, sad-eyed man puzzled Princess Ce'Nedra. Although he was the absolute soul of courtesy, the memory of his interview with King Gethell frightened her. His ruthlessness was all the more chilling because he never lost his temper. He never seemed to sleep either, and when, often in the middle of the night, he felt some obscure need for conversation, he would send for Ce'Nedra. He never apologized for having interrupted her rest. It apparently did not even occur to him that his summons might in some way inconvenience her.
"Where did King Rhodar receive his military training?" 'Zakath asked her during one of these midnight interviews. "None of my information about him even hints about any such talent." The Emperor was seated deep in the purple cushions of a soft chair with golden candlelight playing over his face and his cat dozing in his lap.
"I really couldn't say, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra replied, toying absently with the sleeve of the pale silk gown that had been provided for her soon after her arrival. "I only met Rhodar last winter."
"Very peculiar," 'Zakath mused. "We had always assumed that he was just a foolish old man doting on his young wife. We had never even considered him a possible threat. We concentrated our attentions on Brand and Anheg. Brand is too self effacing to be a good leader, and Anheg seemed too erratic to give us much concern. Then Rhodar appeared out of nowhere to take charge of things. The Alorns are an enigma, aren't they? How can a sensible Tolnedran girl stand them?"
She smiled briefly. "They have a certain charm, your Majesty," she told him rather pertly.
"Where is Belgarion?" The question came without any warning. ''
"We don't know, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra answered evasively. "Lady Polgara was furious when he slipped away."
"In the company of Belgarath and Kheldar," the Emperor added."We heard of the search for them. Tell me, Princess, does he by any chance have Cthrag Yaska with him?"
"Cthrag Yaska?"
"The burning stone - what you in the west call the Orb of Aldur "
"I'm not at liberty to discuss that, your Majesty," she told him rather primly, "and I'm sure you're too courteous to try to wring the information out of me."
"Princess," he said reprovingly.
"I'm sorry, your Majesty," she apologized and gave him that quick, little girl smile that was always her weapon of last resort.
'Zakath smiled gently. "You're a devious young woman, Ce'Nedra," he said.
"Yes, your Majesty," she acknowledged. "What prompted you and Taur Urgas to bury your enmity and unite against us?" Ce'Nedra wanted to demonstrate that she too could ask surprise questions.
"There was no unity in our attack, Princess," he replied. "I was merely responding to Taur Urgas."
"I don't understand."
"So long as he remained at Rak Goska, I was perfectly content to stay at Thull Zelik; but as soon as he began to march north, I had to respond. The land of the Thulls is of too much strategic importance to allow it to be occupied by a hostile force."
"And what now, 'Zakath?" Ce'Nedra asked him impudently. "Taur Urgas is dead. Where will you turn now in search of an enemy?"
He smiled a wintry smile. "How little you understand us, Ce'Nedra. Taur Urgas was only the symbol of Murgo fanaticism. Ctuchik is dead, and Taur Urgas is dead, but Murgodom lives on - even as Mallorea will live on when I am gone. Our enmity goes back for eons. At last, how-ever, a Mallorean Emperor is in a position to crush Cthol Murgos once and for all and make himself undisputed overking of Angarak."
"It's all for power, then?"
"What else is there?" he asked sadly. "When I was very young, I thought that there might be something else-but events proved that I was wrong." A brief look of pain crossed his face, and he sighed. "In time you will discover that same truth. Your Belgarion will grow colder as the years pass and the chill satisfaction of power comes more and more to possess him. When it is complete, and only his love of power remains, then he and I will move against each other as inevitably as two great tides. I will not attack him until his education is complete. There is no satisfaction in destroying a man who does not fully comprehend reality. When all of his illusions are gone and only his love of power remains, then he will be a fit opponent." His face had grown bleak. He looked at her, his eyes as dead and cold as ice. "I think I've kept you from your rest too long, Princess," he said. "Go to bed and dream of love and other absurdities. The dreams will die all too soon, so enjoy them while you can."
Early the next morning, Ce'Nedra entered the pavilion where Polgara rested, recuperating from the struggle with the Grolims at Thull Mardu. She was alert, but still dreadfully weak.
"He's every bit as insane as Taur Urgas was," Ce'Nedra reported. "He's so obsessed with the idea of becoming overking of Angarak that he isn't even paying any attention to what we've been doing."
"That may change once Anheg starts sinking his troop ships," Polgara replied. "There's nothing we can do at the moment, so just keep listening to him and be polite."
"Do you think we should try to escape?"
"No."
Ce'Nedra looked at her, a bit startled.
"What's happening is supposed to happen. There's some reason that the four of us - you, Durnik, Errand, and I - are supposed to go to Mallorea. Let's not tamper with it."
"You knew this was going to happen?"
Polgara gave her a weary smile. "I knew that's where we were going. I didn't know how, exactly. 'Zakath isn't interfering in any way, so don't aggravate him."
Ce'Nedra sighed in resignation. "Whatever you say, Lady Polgara," she said.
It was early afternoon of that same day when the first reports of King Anheg's activities in the Sea of the East reached the Emperor 'Zakath. Ce'Nedra, who was present when the dispatches were delivered, felt a secret sense of satisfaction as the icy man showed the first hint of irritation she had seen in him.
"Are you certain of this?" he demanded of the trembling messenger, holding up the parchment.
"I only carried the dispatch, dread Lord." The messenger quailed, cringing back from his Emperor's anger.
"Were you at Thull Zelik when the ships arnved?"
"There was only one ship, dread Lord."
"One ship out of fifty?" 'Zakath's tone was incredulous. "Weren't there others - perhaps coming along the coast?"
"The sailors said there weren't, your Imperial Majesty."
"What kind of barbarian is this Anheg of Cherek?" 'Zakath exclaimed to Ce'Nedra. "Each of those ships carried two hundred men."
"King Anheg is an Alorn, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra replied coolly. "They're an unpredictable people."
With
a great deal of effort, 'Zakath regained his composure. "I see," he said after a moment's reflection. "This was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it, Princess? The entire attack on Thull Mardu was a subterfuge."
"Not entirely, your Majesty. I was assured that the city had to be neutralized to permit the passage of the fleet."
"But why is he drowning my soldiers? I bear the Alorns no malice."
"Torak does - or so I'm told - and it is Torak who will command the combined armies of Angarak. We cannot allow your forces to land on this continent, your Majesty. We cannot give Torak that advantage."
"Torak is asleep - and he's likely to remain so for a number of years yet."
"Our information indicates that it will not be nearly so long. Belgarath himself is convinced that the time is near at hand."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "I must hand you all over to the Grolims, then," he said. "I'd hoped to wait until Polgara had regained her strength before subjecting her to the journey; but if what you say is true, there is little time to waste. Advise your friends to make their preparations, Princess. You will depart for Thull Zelik tomorrow morning."
"As your Majesty wishes," Ce'Nedra replied, a chill going down her spine as she bowed her head in acquiescence.
"I am a secular man, Princess," he said by way of explanation. "I bow to the altar of Torak when the occasion demands it, but I make no pretence at excessive piety. I will not involve myself in a religious dispute between Belgarath and Zedar, and I most certainly will not stand between Torak and Aldur when they confront each other. I would strongly advise you to follow the same course."
"That decision is not mine to make, your Majesty. My part in this was decided for me long before I was born."
He looked amused. "The Prophecy, you mean? We Angaraks have one also, Princess, and I don't imagine yours is any more reliable than ours. Prophecy is no more than a trick of the priesthood to maintain its grip on the gullible."
"Then you believe in nothing, my Lord?"
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