"Have you had any reports about the weather conditions along the coast to the south?" Praia asked calmly.
"There's some wind, your Highness," the colonel replied, "and there are almost always rain squalls around the tip of the peninsula."
"Thank you, Colonel."
He bowed and quietly left the room.
Garion let out his breath explosively.
"Lord Belgarath." Praia's voice was crisp. "You cannot expose the Lady Tamazin to that kind of weather. I will not permit it."
Belgarath blinked. "Will not permit?" he asked incredulously.
"Absolutely not. If you persist, I'll scream the roof down." She turned coolly to Velvet. "Don't come one step closer, Liselle," she warned. "I can scream at least twice before you can kill me, and that will bring every guard in the Drojim to this room on the run."
"She's right, you know, father," Polgara said very calmly. "Tamazin could not possibly endure the rigors of the voyage."
"Couldn't we—"
"No, father," she said firmly, "it's absolutely out of the question."
He muttered a sour curse and jerked his head at Sadi. The two of them moved down to the far end of the room for a brief, murmured conversation.
"You've got a knife under your doublet, haven't you, Kheldar?" Urgit asked.
"Two, actually," Silk replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "and one in my boot and another on a string at the back of my neck. I like to be prepared for little emergencies when they arise—but why dwell on an unpleasantness that never happened?"
"You're a dreadful man, Kheldar."
"I know."
Belgarath came back from his low-voiced conference with Sadi, "Lady Tamazin," he said.
The Queen Mother's chin lifted. "Yes?" she replied.
"Under the circumstances, I believe we can rely on your discretion," he said. "You've already proved that you know how to keep a secret. You do realize that your life—and your son's—depends on your not revealing what you've learned here, don't you?"
"Yes, I suppose I do."
"We're going to need to leave someone ostensibly in charge here anyway, so things will work out, I suppose."
"What you propose is quite impossible, Lord Belgarath."
"I do wish people would stop using that word. What's the problem now?"
"Murgos will not take orders from a woman."
Belgarath grunted sourly. "Oh, yes. I'd forgotten about that peculiar Murgo prejudice."
"My Lord Oskatat," Sadi said.
The seneschal's face was stony as he glanced briefly at Durnik and Toth standing one on each side of him.
"Wouldn't you be the logical one to attend to the affairs of state during his Majesty's absence?"
"It's possible."
"Just how far does your loyalty to your kinswoman, the Lady Tamazin, go?"
Oskatat scowled at him.
"Eriond," Ce'Nedra said then.
"Yes?"
"Can the seneschal be trusted not to send a fleet after us as soon as we leave?"
Garion looked up sharply. He had forgotten his young friend's peculiar ability to see directly into the minds and hearts of others.
"He won't say anything," Eriond replied confidently.
"Are you sure?" Ce'Nedra asked.
"Absolutely. He'd rather die than betray Tamazin."
A dull flush crept up into the big Murgo's scarred cheeks, and he turned his face so that he could avoid the Queen Mother's eyes.
"All right then." Belgarath's tone was decisive. "Urgit will go with us." He looked at the seneschal. "We'll drop him off not far from Rak Cthaka. You have my word on that. You stay here with Tamazin. It's up to you, but I'd recommend that you follow through on the plan to send reinforcements to the city by sea. Otherwise, your king may have to hold off the Malloreans all by himself."
"What about Praia?" Ce'Nedra asked.
Belgarath scratched his ear. "There's no real point in taking her along," he said. "I'm sure that if she stays here, Tamazin and Oskatat can keep her from blurting out any secrets."
"No, my Lord Belgarath," the slender Cthan Princess said firmly. "I will not stay behind. If his Majesty is going to Rak Cthaka, then so am I. I will not give you my word to remain silent. You have no choice but to take me along— or to kill me."
"What's this?" Urgit asked, puzzled.
Silk, however, had already guessed. "If you want to start running right now, Urgit, I'll try to hold her until you get a good head start."
"What are you talking about, Kheldar?"
"If you're very, very lucky, my brother, Kal Zakath won't get you, but I'm afraid that your chances of escaping this young lady are far more slender. Take my advice and start running right now."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A heavy bank of gray cloud had moved in off the Great Western Sea, and a stiff offshore breeze tugged at their garments as they mounted their horses in the courtyard of the Drojim.
"You know what to do, Oskatat?" Urgit asked his seneschal.
The big Murgo nodded. "The ships carrying the reinforcements will depart within two days, your Majesty. You have my word on that."
"Good. I'd rather not fight this battle all by myself. Try not to use any more of those warrants than you absolutely have to."
"Trust me." Oskatat's face creased into a bleak smile.
Urgit's quick answering grin was wolfish. "And look after my mother," he added.
"I've done that for many years—without her even being aware of it."
Gravely the Murgo King leaned down from his saddle and shook hands with his friend. Then he straightened resolutely. "All right," he said to the officer in charge of the guard detachment, "let's go."
They clattered out of the courtyard, and Silk drew in beside his brother. "What was that business about warrants?" he asked curiously.
Urgit laughed. "The generals might want to refuse to obey Oskatat's orders," he explained, "so I signed warrants for the execution of every one of them and left them with him to use as he sees fit."
"Clever."
"I should have thought of it years ago." Urgit looked up at the racing clouds overhead, with his robe flapping in the rising wind. "I'm not a very good sailor, Kheldar," he admitted with a shudder. "I tend to throw up a lot in rough weather."
Silk laughed. "Then just remember always to stand at the leeward rail."
The murky sky seemed somehow to Garion to be suited to the bleakness of Rak Urga. A city so devoid of any kind of beauty seemed unnatural when the sky was clear and the sun was shining. Now, however, it squatted under the roiling clouds like some torpid stone toad. The black-robed Murgos in the narrow streets stood aside for their king. Some of them bowed; others stood stony-faced and unbending as the party passed.
They rode through a square and then on down the stone-paved street that led to the Temple. "Captain," Urgit called to the officer in the lead, "have one of your men stop by and tell the Hierarch that we're leaving. He has someone in the Temple that he wants to send along with us."
"As your Majesty commands," the officer replied.
The cobbled street they were following rounded a corner, and they were able to see the harbor. It lay in a sheltered bay behind the headland standing at the narrow mouth of the Gulf of Urga and was dotted with black-painted Murgo ships. The familiar smell of the meeting of sea and land, a mixture of brine, seaweed, and dead fish, rose to meet Garion's nostrils, and his blood began to race at the prospect of once again going to sea.
The black ship moored at the side of the stone quay onto which they rode was larger than most of the other vessels in the harbor. It was a squat, broad-beamed scow with slanting masts and tarred planking. Silk eyed it distrustfully. "Do you really call that thing a ship?" he asked his brother.
"I warned you about Murgo boats."
There was a brief disagreement about the horses when they reached the ship. "Totally out of the question, your Majesty," the ship captain, a huge, evil-looking man, declared adamantly. "I don't
carry livestock on board my ship." He stood towering over his king with a self-important expression slightly tinged with contempt on his face. Urgit's expression became one of distress.
"I'd say that it's time for another exercise of the royal assertiveness," Silk murmured to him.
Urgit gave him a quick look and then squared his shoulders. He turned back to the hulking ship's master. "Load these horses on your ship, Captain," he repeated his command in a firmer tone.
"I just told you that I don't—"
"Did I say it too fast for you? Listen carefully this time. Put-the-horses-on-the-boat. If you don't do exactly what I tell you to do, I'll have you nailed to the prow of your ship in place of a figurehead. Do we understand each other?"
The captain stepped back, his look of arrogance becoming one of doubt and apprehension. "Your Majesty—"
"Do it, Captain!" Urgit barked, "Now!"
The captain drew himself up sharply, saluted, and then turned to his crew. "You heard the king," he said harshly. "Load the horses." He stalked away, muttering to himself. .
"You see," Silk said. "It gets easier every time you do it, doesn't it? All you have to remember is that your commands are not subjects for debate."
"You know," Urgit said with a tight grin, "I could actually get to like that."
The sailors began to push the skittish horses up the narrow gangplank and then down a steeply slanting ramp into the hold of the vessel. They had loaded perhaps half of the animals when Garion heard the sound of a sullen drum coming from the narrow, cobbled steel leading down to the quay. A double file of black-robed Grolims in polished steel masks marched down the hill toward the water, moving with that peculiar, swaying gait Garion had seen in the Temple.
Belgarath took Urgit by the sleeve and drew him out of earshot of his guards and the busy sailors. "We don't need any surprises, here, Urgit," he said firmly, "so let's get through the formalities with Agachak as quickly as possible. Tell him that you're going to Rak Cthaka to take personal command of the defense of the city. Let's get your Dagashi on board ship and get out of here."
"I don't really have any choice about this, do I?" Urgit asked unhappily.
"No," Belgarath replied. "Not very much at all." The cadaverous Agachak rode in a litter carried by a dozen Grolims. At his side, her head erect, came the scarred priestess Chabat. Her eyes were ravaged from weeping, and her face was dreadfully pale. The look she directed at Sadi, however, was filled with implacable hatred.
Behind Agachak's litter there came a hooded figure that did not walk with the stiff-legged, swaying gait of the Grolims in the Hierarch's entourage, and Garion surmised that this man was the mysterious Kabach. He looked at the man curiously, but could not see the face concealed beneath the hood.
As the litter reached the gangway, Agachak signalled his bearers to a halt. "Your Majesty," he greeted Urgit hollowly as his litter was lowered to the stones.
"Dread Hierarch."
"I received your message. Is the situation in the south as grave as I was led to believe?"
"I'm afraid so, Agachak. I'm going to take advantage of this ship to go to Rak Cthaka and take personal command."
"You, your Majesty?" Agachak looked startled. "Is that altogether wise?"
"Perhaps not, but I'm sure I can't do much worse than my generals have done. I've left orders that reinforcements are to be sent to the city by ship."
"By ship? A daring innovation, your Majesty. I'm surprised that your generals agreed to it."
"I didn't ask them to agree. I finally realized that their duty to advise me doesn't give them the authority to order me around."
Agachak looked at him, his eyes thoughtful. "This is a new side of you, your Majesty," he noted, stepping out of his litter to stand on the stones of the quay.
"I thought it was time for a change."
It was at that point that Garion felt a warning tingle and an oppressive kind of weight that seemed centered just above his ears. He glanced quickly at Polgara, and she nodded. It did not appear to be emanating from the Hierarch, who seemed wholly engrossed in his conversation with Urgit. Chabat stood to one side with her burning eyes fixed balefully on Sadi, but there was no hint of any mounting of her will. The quiet probing was coming from somewhere else.
"We should be able to reach Rak Cthaka in five or six days," Urgit was saying to the red-robed Hierarch. "As soon as we arrive, I'll get Ussa and his people started toward Rak Hagga with our Dagashi. They might have to swing south a bit to avoid the Mallorean advance, but they won't lose too much time."
"You must be very careful at Rak Cthaka, your Majesty," Agachak cautioned. "It's not only the fate of Cthol Murgos you carry on your shoulders; it's the fate of the entire world."
"I don't concern myself too much with fate, Agachak. A man whose main concern has always been staying alive for the next hour or so doesn't have much time to worry about next year. Where's Kabach?"
The man in the hooded robe stepped out from behind the litter. "I'm here, your Majesty," he said in a deep, resonant voice. There was something familiar about that voice, and a warning prickle ran up between Garion's shoulder blades.
"Good," Urgit said. "Have you any final instructions for him, Agachak?"
"I have said to him all that needs to be said," the Hierarch responded.
"That covers everything, then." Urgit looked around. "All right," he said, "let's all get on board that ship."
"Perhaps not just yet, your Majesty," the black-robed Dagashi said to him, stepping forward and pushing back his hood. Garion suppressed a start of surprise. Although his black beard had been shaved off, there was no question about the man's identity. It was Harakan.
"There is one last thing your Majesty should know before we board," Harakan declared in a voice clearly intended to be heard by everyone on the quay. "Were you aware of the fact that the man with the sword over there is Belgarion of Riva?"
Urgit's eyes went very wide as a ripple of amazement went through the priests and the soldiers standing on the slippery stones of the quay. The Murgo King, however, was quick to recover. "That's a very interesting thing to suggest, Kabach," he said carefully. "I'd be interested to know what makes you so sure."
"It's absolute nonsense," Sadi spluttered.
Agachak's sunken eyes were boring into Garion's face. "I have seen Belgarion myself," he intoned hollowly. "He was much younger then, but there is a resemblance."
"A resemblance certainly, Dread Hierarch," Sadi agreed quickly, "but that's all. The young man has been in my service since he was a boy. Oh, I'll admit that there are some superficial similarities of features, but I can assure you that this most definitely is not Belgarion."
Silk was standing just behind Urgit, and his lips were moving very fast as he whispered to his new-found brother. The Murgo King was a skilled enough politician to control his expression, but his eyes darted nervously this way and that as he began to realize that he stood at the very center of an incipient explosion. Finally, he cleared his throat. "You still haven't told us what makes you believe that this is Belgarion, Kabach," he said.
"I was in Tol Honeth some years ago," Harakan shrugged. "Belgarion was there at the same time—for a funeral, I think. Someone pointed him out to me."
"I think the noble Dagashi is mistaken," Sadi said. "His identification is based entirely on a fleeting glance from a distance. That hardly qualifies as definitive proof. I tell you that this is not Belgarion."
"He lies," Harakan said flatly. "I am of the Dagashi. We are trained observers."
"That raises an interesting point, Agachak," Urgit said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Harakan. "In spite of everything, the Dagashi are still Murgos, and every Murgo alive slashes his face as a blood offering to Torak." He turned and pointed at two faint, thin white lines on his cheek. The king's scarcely visible scars gave mute evidence that his self-mutilation had been none too fervent. "Look at our Dagashi there," he continued. "I don't see a single mark on his face, do you?"
"I was instructed by my elder not to make the customary blood offering," Harakan said quickly. "He wanted me unmarked so that I could move around freely in the Kingdoms of the West."
"I'm sorry, Kabach," Urgit said with heavy scepticism, "but that story doesn't hold water at all. The blood offering to Torak is a part of the rite of passage into manhood. Were you so precocious as a child that your elder decided to make you a spy before you were ten years old? And even if he had, you would still have been required to go through the rite before you could marry or even enter the Temple. The scars may not be on your face, but if you're a Murgo, you've got scars on you someplace. Show us your scars, noble Dagashi. Let us see the proof of your fidelity to Torak and your uncontaminated Murgo blood."
"Dread Hierarch," Sadi said with a thoughtful expression on his face, "this is not the first accusation levelled at one of my servants." He looked meaningfully at Chabat. "Is it possible that there is a faction among your Grolims that does not want this mission to succeed—some group hiding behind false beards?"
"Beard!" Silk exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "That's why I couldn't place him! He's shaved off his beard!"
Urgit turned to look inquiringly at him. "What are you talking about, fellow?"
"Excuse me, your Majesty," Silk said with exaggerated humility. "I just realized something, and it surprised me. I think I can clarify things here."
"I certainly hope someone can. All right, go ahead."
"Thank you, your Majesty." Silk looked around with a beautifully feigned expression of nervousness. "I'm an Alorn, your Majesty," he said, then held up one hand quickly. "Please hear me out," he begged, half of the king and half of the surrounding Murgos. "I'm an Alorn, but I'm not a fanatic about it. The way I look at it, there's plenty of room in the world for Alorns and Murgos. Live and let live, I always say. Anyway, last year I hired myself out as a soldier in King Belgarion's army—the one that he raised to lay siege to the Bear-cult at Rheon in northeastern Drasnia. Well, to make it short, I was present when Belgarion and his friend from Sendaria—Durnik, I think his name is—captured the cult-leader, Ulfgar. He had a beard then, but I swear to you that this Kabach is the selfsame man. I ought to know. I helped to carry him into a house after Durnik knocked him senseless."
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