Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  "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 Alorn and have a look at it."

  "This is hardly the time for side trips, Grandfather," Garion objected.

  "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 her 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 are 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 suppose 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."

  "Then it would be faster just to start marching when we get to the first shallows?"

  She nodded. "It's likely to take several days for my generals to assemble their troops and get their supplies together," she added. "I'll instruct them to follow us as quickly as they can. Once they join us, we can go on to Rheon and lay siege until Brendig and Hettar arrive."

  "You know, you're really very good at this, Porenn."

  She smiled sadly. "Rhodar was a very good teacher."

  "You loved him very much, didn't you?"

  She sighed. "More than you can possibly imagine, Garion."

  They reached Boktor the following afternoon, and Garion accompanied Queen Porenn and her slightly sullen son to the palace, with Silk tagging along behind. As soon as they arrived, Porenn sent a messenger to the headquarters of the Drasnian military forces.

  "Shall we take some tea while we're waiting, gentlemen?" the little blonde queen offered as the three of them sat comfortably in a large, airy chamber with red velvet drapes at the windows.

  "Only if you can't find anything stronger." Silk replied with an impudent grin.

  "Isn't it a trifle early in the day for that, Prince Kheldar?" she asked him reprovingly.

  "I'm an Alorn, Auntie dear. It's never too early in the day."

  "Kheldar, please don't call me that. It makes me feel positively antique."

  But you are, Porenn -my aunt, I mean, not antique, of course."

  "Are you ever serious about anything?"

  "Not if I can help it."

  She sighed and then laughed a warm tinkle of a laugh.

  Perhaps a quarter of an hour later, a stocky man with a red face and a somewhat gaudy orange uniform was shown into the room. "Your Majesty sent for me?" he asked, bowing respectfully.

  "Ah, General Haldar," she replied. "Are you acquainted with his Majesty, King Belgarion?"

  "We met briefly, ma'am -at your late husband's funeral." He bowed floridly to Garion. "Your Majesty."

  "General."

  "And of course you've met Prince Kheldar."

  "Of course," the general replied. "Your Highness."

  "General." Silk looked at him closely "Isn't that a new decoration, Haldar?" he asked.

  The red-faced general touched the cluster of medals on his chest somewhat deprecatingly. "That's what generals do in peacetime, Prince Kheldar. We give each other medals."

  "l'm afraid that the peacetime is at an end, General Haldar," Porenn said rather crisply. "You've heard what happened at Jarviksholm in Cherek, I presume."

  "Yes, your Majesty," he replied. "It was a well-executed campaign."

  "We are now going to proceed against Rheon. The Bear-cult has abducted King Belgarion's son."

  "Abducted?" Haldar's expression was incredulous.

  "I'm afraid so. I think the time has come to eliminate the cult entirely. That's why we're moving on Rheon. We have a fleet in the harbor loaded with Belgarion's Rivans. Tomorrow, we'll sail up to the shallows and disembark. We'll march overland toward Rheon. I want you to muster the army and follow us as quickly as you possibly can."

  Haldar was frowning as if something he had heard had distracted him. "Are you sure that the Rivan Prince was abducted, your Majesty?" he asked. "He was not killed?"

  "No," Garion answered firmly. "It was clearly an abduction."

  Haldar began to pace up and down agitatedly. "That doesn't make any sense," he muttered, almost to himself.

  "Do you understand your instructions, General?" Porenn asked him.

  "What? Oh yes, your Majesty. I'm to gather the army and catch up with King Belgarion's Rivans before they reach Rheon."

  "Precisely. We'll besiege the town until the rest of our forces arrive. We'll be joined at Rheon by Algars and elements of the Sendarian army."

  "I'll start at once, your Majesty," he assured her. His expression was still slightly abstracted, and his frown was worried.

  "Is there anything wrong, General?" she asked him.

  "What? Oh, no, your Majesty. I'll go to headquarters and issue the necessary orders immediately "

  "Thank you, General Haldar. That will be all."

  "He certainly heard something he didn't like," Silk observed after the general had left.

  "We've all heard things lately that we haven't liked," Garion said.

/>   "It wasn't quite the same, though," Silk muttered. "Excuse me for a bit. I think I'm going to go ask a few questions." He rose from his chair and quietly left the room.

  Early the next morning, the fleet weighed anchor and began to move slowly upstream from Boktor. Though the day had dawned clear and sunny, by noon a heavy cloud cover had swept in off the Gulf of Cherek to turn the Drasnian countryside gray and depressing.

  "I hope it doesn't rain," Barak growled from his place at the tiller. "I hate slogging through mud on my way to a fight."

  The shallows of the Mrin proved to be a very wide stretch of river where the water rippled over gravel bars.

  "Have you ever considered dredging this?" Garion asked the Queen of Drasnia.

  "No," she replied. "As a matter of policy I don't want the Mrin navigable beyond this point. I'd rather not have Tolnedran merchantmen bypassing Boktor." She smiled sweetly at Ce'Nedra. "I'm not trying to be offensive, dear," she said, "but your countrymen always seem to want to avoid customs. As things now stand, I control the North Caravan Route and I need that customs revenue."

  "I understand, Porenn," Ce'Nedra assured her. "I'd do it that way myself."

  They beached the fleet on the northern bank of the river, and Garion's forces began to disembark. "You'll lead the ships back down-river and across to Darine, then?" Barak said to the bearded Greldik.

  "Right," Greldik said. "I'll have Brendig and his Sendars back here within a week."

  "Good. Tell him to follow us to Rheon as quickly as he can. I've never been happy with the idea of long sieges."

  "Are you going to send Seabird back with me?"

  Barak scratched at his beard thoughtfully. "No," he said finally. "I think I'll leave her here."

  "Believe me, I'm not going to get her sunk, Barak."

  "I know, but I just feel better about the idea of having her here in case I need her. Will you come to Rheon with Brendig? There's bound to be some good fighting."

  Greldik's face grew mournful. "No," he replied. "Anheg ordered me to come back to Val Alorn when I finish freighting the Sendars here."

  "Oh. That's too bad."

  Greldik grunted sourly. "Have fun at Rheon," he said, "and try not to get yourself killed."