"Must it be so, Master?" Polgara asked in a voice that clearly revealed her reluctance.
"It must, my daughter," Aldur replied sadly.
Polgara sighed. "Then so be it, Master." She extended her left hand, and the God enclosed it in his. The gathering-in of her will roared in Garion's mind like a tornado, and the force of it pushed against him with an awful power. Enclosed in blue light and linked by their touching hands, Polgara and Aldur stood side by side on the surface of the water, facing the hideous demon who still held the weakly struggling Chabat high in the air.
"I abjure thee, creature of darkness," Polgara said in a great voice. "Return to the hell that spawned thee and never more corrupt this world by thy foul presence. Begone and take with thee the one who summoned thee." She raised her hand, and the force of her will, combined with the will of the God Aldur, blazed forth from her palm. There was a vast thunderclap as the demon suddenly exploded into a huge ball of fire with the waters of the harbor geysering up around it.
'Then he was gone, and with him disappeared the priestess.
When Garion looked back, Aldur no longer stood at Polgara's side. She turned and slowly walked back across the waves toward the quay. As she approached, Garion clearly saw that her eyes were filled with anguish.
PART THREE - THE ISLE OF VERKAT
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The barren coast of the Urga peninsula slid by on their left the following morning as the Murgo scow beat steadily southward with a good following breeze. Cliffs rose sharply out of the crashing surf, and there was only the scantiest of vegetation to break the monotony of the desolation of rust-colored rock. The autumn sky was a deep, chill blue, but the sun stood far to the north, for winter came early to these extreme southern latitudes.
Garion, as he always did when he was at sea, had risen at first light of day and gone up on deck. He stood at the rail amidships, half-bemused by the sparkle of the morning sun on the waves and by the steady creak and roll of the vessel under his feet.
The slanting door that opened onto the short flight of steps leading down to the aft companionway creaked, and Durnik came out on deck, bracing himself against the awkward roll of the ship and squinting in the bright sunlight. The smith wore his usual plain brown tunic, and his face was somber.
Garion crossed the deck to his friend's side. "Is she all right?" he asked.
"She's very tired," Durnik replied wearily. His own nearly exhausted face clearly showed that he had slept very little himself. "She tossed and fretted for a long time before she finally went to sleep last night. That was a terrible thing she had to do."
"Did she talk to you about it at all?"
"Some. The demon had to be sent back to where he came from. Otherwise he'd have spread horror and death across the whole world. Since Chabat summoned him, he could have used her as a doorway to come into this world any time he wanted to. That's why Chabat had to go with him—to close that doorway."
"Exactly where do they come from—demons, I mean?"
"She didn't say very much about that, but I got the feeling that I wouldn't really want to know about it."
"Is she sleeping now?"
Durnik nodded. "I'm going to go talk with the ship's cook. I want to have something hot for her to eat when she wakes up."
"You'd better get some sleep yourself."
"Perhaps. Would you excuse me, Garion? I don't want to stay away too long—just in case she wakes up and needs me." He went on forward toward the ship's galley.
Garion straightened and looked around. The Murgo sailors worked with fearful looks on their faces. What had taken place the previous afternoon had washed away all traces of the stiff arrogance that usually marked a Murgo's expression, and they all cast frightened, sidelong glances at every one of their passengers, as if expecting them to turn into - ogres or sea monsters without any warning.
Silk and Urgit had emerged from the companionway door while Garion and Durnik had been talking and stood at the rail near the stern, idly watching the bubbly wake tracing its path across the dark green swells and the white-winged gulls screeching and hovering in a greedy cloud behind them. Garion moved a bit closer, but did not actually join them.
"Uninviting sort of place," Silk observed, looking at the stark cliffs rising from the sea. The little man had discarded the shabby clothing he had worn when they had begun this journey and he now wore a plain, unadorned gray doublet.
Urgit grunted morosely. Idly, he tossed chunks of stale bread into their wake, watching without much interest as the squawking gulls trailing the ship swooped down to fight over them. "Kheldar," he said, "does she do that all the time?"
"Who's that?"
"Polgara." Urgit shuddered. "Does she obliterate everybody who displeases her?"
"No," Silk replied. "Polgara doesn't do that—none of them do. It's not allowed."
"I'm sorry, Kheldar. Allowed or not, I know what I saw yesterday."
"I talked to Belgarath about it," Silk told him, "and he explained it. Chabat and the demon weren't actually destroyed. They were just sent back to the place where the demon came from. The demon absolutely had to be sent back; unfortunately, Chabat had to go with him."
"Unfortunately? I didn't feel all that much sympathy for her."
"I don't think you quite understand, Urgit. Killing somebody is one thing, but destroying someone's soul is quite something else. That's what made Polgara miserable. She was forced to condemn Chabat to eternal pain and horror. That's the most terrible thing anybody can be forced to do."
"Who was that who came up out of the water with her?"
"Aldur."
"You're not serious!"
"Oh, yes. I've seen him once or twice. It was Aldur, all right."
"A God? Here? What was he doing?"
"He had to be here." Silk shrugged. "No human, however powerful, can face a demon unaided. When the magicians of the Morindim raise a demon, they always are very careful to set rigid limits on him. Chabat just unleashed hers without any limits at all. Only a God can deal with a demon with that kind of freedom; and since the Gods work through us, Polgara had to be involved as well. It was a very tricky business."
Urgit shuddered. "I don't think I'm going to be able to deal with this."
They stood side by side, leaning on the rail and looking out at the long waves rolling in off the Great Western Sea to crash against the barren cliffs. As Garion looked at the two of them, he wondered how it had been possible for anyone to miss the relationship. Although they were not exactly identical, their features were so much alike that there could be no doubt they were brothers.
"Kheldar," Urgit said finally, "what was our father really like?"
"He was taller than either of us," Silk replied, "and very distinguished-looking. His hair was sort of iron-gray, and this nose we've all got made him look more like an eagle than a rat."
"We do look a bit like rodents, don't we?" Urgit agreed with a brief smile. "That's not what I meant, though. What was he really like?"
"Polished. He had exquisite manners, and he was very civilized and urbane. I never heard him use a harsh word to anyone." Silk's face was melancholy.
"But he was deceitful, wasn't he?"
"What makes you say that?"
"He did cheat, after all. I'm not the product of any sort of lasting fidelity."
"You don't exactly understand," Silk disagreed. He looked thoughtfully out at the green swells topped by an occasional whitecap. "For all his polish, our father was very much an adventurer. He'd accept any challenge—just for the fun involved—and he had an insatiable wanderlust. He was always looking for something new. I think that when you put the two of those traits together, you might begin to understand exactly why he was attracted to your mother. I visited the palace in Rak Goska when Taur Urgas was still alive. His wives were all either closely guarded or kept under lock and key. It was the sort of thing our father would have viewed as a challenge."
Urgit made a sour face. "You aren't
bolstering my ego very much, Kheldar. I'm here because a Drasnian gentleman liked to pick locks."
"Not entirely. I didn't have much chance to talk with your mother about it, but I gather that she and our father were genuinely fond of each other. Taur Urgas was never fond of anyone. At least our father and your mother were having fun."
"Maybe that explains my sunny disposition."
Silk sighed. "He didn't have too much fun after my mother's illness, though. That put an end to all the wandering and adventures."
"What kind of illness was it?"
"A pestilence that breaks out in Drasnia from time to time. It disfigures its victims horribly. My mother was blinded by its effects, fortunately."
"Fortunately?"
"She couldn't look into a mirror. Our father stayed by her side for the rest of his life and never once gave any hint about what he saw whenever he looked at her." Silk's face was bleak, and his jaws were tightly clenched together. "It was the bravest thing I've ever seen any man do—and it was all the worse because it went on and on and on until the day he died." He looked away quickly. "Do you suppose we could talk about something else?"
"I'm sorry, Kheldar," Urgit said sympathetically. "I didn't mean to open old wounds."
"What was it like growing up in Rak Goska?" Silk asked after a moment.
"Grim," Urgit replied. "Taur Urgas had begun to show signs of his madness much earlier than was usual in the Urga family, and there were all kinds of rituals we had to observe."
"I've seen some of them."
"Not just the ones in the Temple, Kheldar—although there were plenty of those as well. I'm talking about his personal peculiarities. No one was ever supposed to stand to his right, and it was worth a man's life to let his shadow fall on the royal person. My brothers and I were taken from our mothers at the age of seven and set to training—military exercises for the most part—involving a great deal of grunting and sweating. Lapses of any kind were punished with flogging—usually at the supper table."
"That might tend to cool one's appetite."
"It does indeed. I don't even eat supper any more—too many unpleasant memories. My brothers and I all started plotting against each other very early. Taur Urgas had many wives and whole platoons of children. Since the crown falls to the eldest surviving son, we all schemed against our older brothers and tried to protect ourselves against the plots of the younger ones. One charming little fellow ran a knife into one of the others when he was nine."
"Precocious," Silk murmured.
"Oh, he was indeed. Taur Urgas was delighted, of course. For a time, the little back-stabber was his favorite. That made me and my older brothers quite nervous, since it was entirely possible that our insane sire might have seen fit to have us all strangled to make room for the little monster, so we took steps."
"Oh?"
"We caught him alone in the upper floors of the palace one day and threw him out a window." Urgit looked sombrely out over the long swells sweeping in off the Great Western Sea. "From the day we were taken from our mothers, we lived a life of constant fear and senseless brutality. We were supposed to be perfect Murgos—strong, brave, insanely loyal, and absolutely dedicated to Torak. Each of us had a Grolim for a tutor, and we had to listen to hours of gibberish about the God of Angarak every day. It wasn't what you might call a pleasant childhood."
"Taur Urgas never showed any kind of affection?"
"Not to me, he didn't. I was always the smallest, and he had a great deal of contempt for me. Murgos are supposed to be big and muscular. Even after I'd managed to work my way up to the point where I was heir apparent, he never had a civil word for me and he encouraged my younger brothers to try to murder me."
"How did you manage to survive?"
"By my wits—and by using a key I managed to steal."
"A key?"
"To the palace strong room. You'd be amazed at how much help a man with unlimited funds at his command can get—even in Cthol Murgos."
Silk shivered. "It's getting definitely chilly out here on deck," he said. "Why don't we go inside and share a flagon of spiced wine?"
"I don't drink, Kheldar."
"You don't?" Silk sounded amazed.
"I need to keep my wits about me. A man with his head stuck in a wine barrel can't see someone creeping up behind him with a knife, can he?"
"You're quite safe with me, brother."
"I'm not safe with anyone, Kheldar—particularly not with a brother. Nothing personal, you understand—just the result of a very nervous childhood."
"All right," Silk said amiably. "Let's go inside, and you can watch me drink. I'm very good at it."
"I can imagine. You're an Alorn, after all."
"So are you, dear brother." Silk laughed. "So are you. Come along, and I'll introduce you to all the fun that goes with your heritage."
Garion was on the verge of turning to follow them, but at that moment Belgarath came out on deck, stretching and yawning. "Is Pol up yet?" he asked Garion.
Garion shook his head. "I talked with Durnik a little while ago. He said that she's very tired after what she did yesterday."
Belgarath frowned slightly. "It really shouldn't have tired her all that much," he said. "It was spectacular, I'll admit, but hardly exhausting."
"I don't think it's that kind of exhaustion, Grandfather. Durnik said she was troubled for about half the night."
The old man scratched at his beard. "Oh," he said, "sometimes I lose sight of the fact that Pol's a woman. She can't seem to put things behind her, and sometimes her compassion gets the better of her."
"That's not necessarily a bad trait, Grandfather."
"Not for a woman, perhaps."
"I seem to remember something that happened in the fens once," Garion told him. "Didn't you sort of go out of your way to do something for Vordai—more or less out of compassion?"
Belgarath looked around guiltily. "I thought we agreed that you weren't going to mention that."
"You know something, Grandfather?" Garion said with a faint smile. "You're a fraud. You pretend to be as cold as ice and as hard as a rock, but underneath you've got the same emotions as all the rest of us."
"Please, Garion, don't bandy that about too much."
"Does it bother you being human?"
"Well, not really, but after all, I do sort of have a reputation to maintain."
By late afternoon the coast line they had been following had grown even more jagged, and the surf boiled and thundered against the rocks. Silk and Urgit came up out of the aft companion way, and Garion noted that both were a trifle unsteady as they walked.
"Hello there, Belgarion," Urgit said expansively. "How would you like to join us? Kheldar and I have decided that we'd like to sing for a bit."
"Uh—thanks all the same," Garion replied carefully, "but I don't sing very well."
"That doesn't matter, old boy. It doesn't matter in the slightest. I might not be very good at it myself. I can't say for sure, because I've never sung a note in my whole life." He giggled suddenly. "There are a lot of things I've never done before, and I think it might be time I tried a few."
Ce'Nedra and the Murgo girl, Praia, came up on deck. Instead of her customary black, Praia was dressed in a stunning gown of pale rose, and her jet-black hair was caught in an intricate coil at the nape of her neck.
"My ladies," Urgit greeted them with a formal bow, marred only slightly by an unsteady lurch.
"Careful, old boy," Silk said, catching him by the elbow. "I don't want to have to fish you out of the sea."
"You know something, Kheldar?" Urgit said, blinking owlishly. "I don't think I've ever felt quite this good." He looked at Ce'Nedra and the dark-haired Praia. "You know something else? Those are a couple of awfully pretty girls there. Do you think they might like to sing with us?"
"We could ask them."
"Why don't we?"
The pair of them descended on Ce'Nedra and her Murgo companion, imploring them outrageously to join th
em in song. Praia laughed as the Murgo King lurched forward and back with the roll of the ship. "I think you two are drunk," she declared.
"Are we drunk?" Urgit asked Silk, still swaying on his feet.
"I certainly hope so," Silk replied. "If we aren't, we've wasted a great deal of very good wine."
"I guess we're drunk then. Now that's been settled, what shall we sing?"
"Alorns!" Ce'Nedra sighed, rolling her eyes skyward.
It was raining the following morning when they awoke, a chill drizzle that hissed into the sea and collected to run in heavy droplets down the tarred ropes of the rigging. Polgara joined them for breakfast in the larger cabin at the extreme aft end of the companionway, though she seemed silent and withdrawn.
Velvet looked brightly around the cabin, where stoutly constructed windows instead of portholes stretched across the stern and heavy beams held up a ceiling which was actually the deck above. She looked pointedly at the two conspicuously empty chairs at the breakfast table. "What's become of Prince Kheldar and his wayward royal brother?" she asked.
"I think they lingered a bit too long over their wine cups yesterday," Ce'Nedra replied with a slightly malicious smirk. "I'd imagine that they're feeling just a bit delicate this morning."
"Would you believe that they were singing?" Praia said.
"Oh?" Velvet said. "Were they doing it well?"
Praia laughed. "They frightened away the seagulls. I've never heard such dreadful noise."
Polgara and Durnik had been talking quietly at the far end of the table. "I'm perfectly fine, Durnik," she assured him. "You go right ahead."
"I don't want to leave you alone, Pol," he told her.
"I won't be alone, dear. Ce'Nedra, Praia, and Liselle will all be with me. If you don't find out for yourself, you'll wonder about it for the rest of your life and always regret the fact that you passed the opportunity by."
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