Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  "We'd know a great deal more, if I could get in touch with Yarblek," Silk was saying. The little man was dressed again in the pearl‑gray doublet and black hose which he had favored during those years before they had begun this search, although he wore only a few of the costly rings and ornaments which had made him appear so ostentatiously wealthy at that time.

  "Isn't he in Gar og Nadrak?" Garion asked. Garion had also discarded his serviceable travel clothing and reverted to his customary silver‑trimmed blue.

  "It's hard to say exactly where Yarblek is at any given time, Garion. He moves around a great deal; but no matter where he goes, the reports from our people in Mal Zeth, Melcene, and Maga Renn are all forwarded to him. Whatever this Mengha is up to is almost certain to have disrupted trade. I'm sure that our agents have gathered everything they could find out about him and sent it along to Yarblek. Right now my scruffy‑looking partner probably knows more about Mengha than Brador's secret police do."

  "I don't want to get sidetracked, Silk. Our business is with Zandramas, not Mengha."

  "Demons are everybody's business," Silk replied soberly, "but no matter what we decide to do, we have to get to Mallorea first ‑and that means persuading Zakath that this is serious. Was he listening at all when you told him about Mengha?"

  Garion shook his head. "I'm not sure if he even understood what we were telling him. He wasn't altogether rational."

  Silk grunted. "When he wakes up, we'll have to try again." A sly grin crossed the little man's face. "I've had a certain amount of luck negotiating with sick people," he said.

  "Isn't that sort of contemptible?"

  "Of course it is ‑but it gets results."

  Later that morning, Garion and his rat‑faced friend stopped by the Emperor's room, ostensibly to inquire about his health. Polgara and Sadi were seated on either side of the bed, and Andel sat quietly in the corner. The vines that had enveloped the narrow cot had been pulled aside, but the air in the room was still heavy with the fragrance of the small, lavender flowers. The sick man was propped into a half‑sitting position by pillows, but his eyes were closed as Silk and Garion entered. His cat lay contentedly purring at the foot of the bed.

  "How is he?" Garion asked quietly.

  "He's been awake a few times," Sadi replied. "There are still some traces of thalot in his extremities, but they seem to be dissipating." The eunuch was picking curiously at one of the small flowers. "I wonder if these would work if they were distilled down to an essence," he mused, "or perhaps an attar. It might be very interesting to wear a perfume that would ward off any poison." He frowned slightly. "And I wonder if they'd be effective against snake venom."

  "Have Zith bite someone," Silk suggested. "Then you can test it."

  "Would you like to volunteer, Prince Kheldar?"

  "Ah, no, Sadi," Silk declined. "Thanks all the same." He looked at the red case lying open on the floor in the comer. "Is she confined, by the way?" he asked nervously.

  "She's sleeping," Sadi replied. "She always takes a little nap after breakfast."

  Garion looked at the dozing Emperor. " Is he coherent at all ‑when he's awake, I mean?"

  "His mind seems to be clearing," Polgara told him.

  "Hysteria and delirium are some of the symptoms brought on by thalot," Sadi said. "Growing rationality is an almost certain sign of recovery."

  "Is that you, Belgarion?" Zakath asked almost in a whisper and without opening his eyes.

  "Yes," Garion replied. "How are you feeling?"

  "Weak. Light‑headed ‑and every muscle in my body screams like an abscessed tooth. Aside from that, I'm fine." He opened his eyes with a wry smile. "What happened? I seem to have lost track of things."

  Garion glanced briefly at Polgara, and she nodded.

  "You were poisoned," he told the sick man.

  Zakath looked a bit surprised. "It must not have been a very good one then," he said.

  "Actually, it's one of the very best, your Imperial Majesty," Sadi disagreed mildly. "It's always been universally lethal."

  "I'm dying then?" Zakath said it with a peculiar kind of satisfaction, almost as if he welcomed the idea. " Ah, well," he sighed. "That should solve many problems."

  "I'm very sorry, your Majesty," Silk said with mock regret, "but I think you'll live. Belgarath tampers with the normal course of events from time to time. It's a bad habit he picked up in his youth, but a man needs some vices, I suppose."

  Zakath smiled weakly. "You're a droll little fellow, Prince Kheldar."

  "If you're really keen on dying, though," Silk added outrageously, "we could always wake Zith. One nip from her almost guarantees perpetual slumber."

  "Zith?"

  "Sadi's pet ‑a little green snake. She could even curl up at your ear after she bites you and purr you into eternity."

  Zakath sighed, and his eyes drooped shut again.

  "I think we should let him sleep," Polgara said quietly.

  "Not just yet, Lady Polgara," the Emperor said. "I've shunned sleep and the dreams which infest it for so long that it comes unnaturally now."

  "You must sleep, Kal Zakath," Andel told him.

  "There are ways to banish evil dreams, and sleep is the greatest healer."

  Zakath sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid you won't be able to banish these dreams, Andel." Then he frowned slightly. "Sadi, is hallucination one of the symptoms of the poison I was given?"

  "It's possible," the eunuch admitted. "What horrors have you seen?"

  "Not a horror," Zakath replied. "I seem to see the face of a young woman. Her eyes are bound with a strip of cloth. A peculiar peace comes over me when I see her face."

  "Then it was not an hallucination, Kal Zakath," Andel told him.

  "Who is this strange blind child, then?"

  "My mistress," Andel said proudly. "The face which came to you in your direst hour was the face of Cyradis, the Seeress of Kell, upon whose decision rests the fate of all the world ‑and of all other worlds as well."

  "So great a responsibility to lie upon such slender shoulders," Zakath said.

  "It is her task," Andel said simply.

  The sick man seemed to fall again into a doze, his lips lightly touched with a peculiar smile. Then his eyes opened again, seemingly more alert now. "Am I healed, Sadi?" he asked the shaved‑headed eunuch. "Has your excellent Nyissan poison quite run its course?"

  "Oh," Sadi replied speculatively, "I wouldn't say that you're entirety well yet, your Majesty, but I'd guess that you're out of any immediate danger."

  "Good," Zakath said crisply, trying to shoulder his way up into a sitting position. Garion reached out to help him. " And has the knave who poisoned me been apprehended yet?"

  Sadi shook his head. "Not as far as I know," he answered.

  "I think that might be the first order of business, then.

  I'm starting to feel a little hungry and I'd rather not go through this again. Is the poison common in Cthol Murgos?"

  Sadi frowned. "Murgo law forbids poisons and drugs, your Majesty," he replied. "They're a backward sort of people. The Dagashi assassins probably have access to thalot, though."

  "You think my poisoner might have been a Dagashi, then?"

  Sadi shrugged. "Most assassinations in Cthol Murgos are carried out by the Dagashi. They're efficient and discreet."

  Zakath's eyes narrowed in thought. "That would seem to point a finger directly at Urgit, then. The Dagashi are expensive, and Urgit has access to the royal treasury." Silk grimaced. "No," he declared. "Urgit wouldn't do that. A knife between your shoulder blades maybe, but not poison."

  "How can you be so sure, Kheldar?"

  "I know him," Silk replied a bit lamely. "He's weak and a little timid, but he wouldn't be a party to a poisoning. It's a contemptible way to resolve political differences."

  "Prince Kheldar!" Sadi protested.

  "Except in Nyissa, of‑course," Silk conceded. "One always needs to take quaint local customs into account." He
pulled at his long, pointed nose. "I'll admit that Urgit wouldn't grieve too much if you woke up dead some morning," he said to the Mallorean Emperor, "but it's all just a little too pat. If your generals believed that it was Urgit who arranged to have you killed, they'd stay here for the next ten generations trying to obliterate all of Murgodom, wouldn't they?"

  "I'd assume so," Zakath said.

  "Who would benefit the most by disposing of you and rather effectively making sure that the bulk of your army doesn't return to Mallorea in the foreseeable future? Not Urgit, certainly. More likely it would be somebody in Mallorea who wants a free hand there." Silk squared his shoulders. "Why don't you let Liselle and me do a little snooping around before you lock your mind in stone on this? Obvious things always make me suspicious."

  "That's all very well, Kheldar," Zakath said rather testily, "but how can I be sure that my next meal won't have another dose of exotic spices in it?"

  "You have at your bedside the finest cook in the world," the rat‑faced man said, pointing grandly at Polgara, "and I can absolutely guarantee that she won't poison you. She might turn you into a radish if you offend her, but she'd never poison you."

  "All right, Silk, that will do," Polgara told him,

  "I'm only paying tribute to your extraordinary gifts, Polgara."

  Her eyes grew hard.

  "I think that perhaps it might be time for me to be on my way," Silk said to Garion.

  "Wise decision," Garion murmured.

  The little man turned and quickly left the room.

  "Is he really as good as he pretends to be?" Zakath asked curiously.

  Polgara nodded. "Between them, Kheldar and Liselle can probably ferret out any secret in the world. Silk doesn't always like it, but they're almost a perfect team.

  And now, your Majesty, what would you like for breakfast?"

  A curious exchange was taking place in the corner.

  Throughout the previous conversation, Garion had heard a faint, drowsy purr coming from Zith's earthenware bottle. Either the little snake was expressing a general sense of contentment, or it may have been one of the peculiarities of her species to purr while sleeping. Zakath's pregnant, mackerel-striped cat, attracted by that sound, jumped down from the bed and curiously waddled toward Zith's little home. Absently, probably without even thinking about it, she responded to the purr coming from the bottle with one of her own. She sniffed at the bottle, then tentatively touched it with one soft paw. The peculiar duet of purring continued.

  Then, perhaps because Sadi had not stoppered the bottle tightly enough or because she had long since devised this simple means of opening her front door, the little snake nudged the cork out of the bottle with her blunt nose. Both creatures continued to purr, although the cat was now obviously afire with curiosity. For a time Zith did not reveal herself, but lurked shyly in her bottle, still purring. Then, cautiously, she poked out her head, her forked tongue flickering as she tested the air.

  The cat jumped straight up to a height of about three feet, giving vent to a startled yowl. Zith retreated immediately back into the safety of her house, though she continued to purr.

  Warily, but still burning with curiosity, the cat approached the bottle again, moving one foot at a time.

  "Sadi," Zakath said, his voice filled with concern.

  "There's no immediate danger, your Majesty," the eunuch assured him. "Zith never bites while she's purring."

  Again the little green snake slid her head out of the bottle. This time the cat recoiled only slightly. Then, curiosity overcoming her natural aversion to reptiles, she continued her slow advance, her nose reaching out toward this remarkable creature. Zith, still purring, also extended her blunt nose. Their noses touched, and both

  flinched back slightly. Then they cautiously sniffed at each other, the cat with her nose, the snake with her tongue. Both were purring loudly now.

  "Astonishing," Sadi murmured. "I think they actually like each other."

  "Sadi, please," Zakath said plaintively. "I don't know how you feel about your snake, but I'm rather fond of my cat, and she is about to become a mother."

  "I'll speak with them, your Majesty," Sadi assured him. "I'm not sure that they'll listen, but I'll definitely speak with them."

  Belgarath had once again retired to the library, and Garion found him later that day poring over a large map of northern Mallorea. "Ah," he said, looking up as Garion entered, "there you are. I was just about to send for you. Come over here and look at this." Garion went to the table.

  "The appearance of this Mengha fellow might just work to our advantage, you know."

  "I don't quite follow that, Grandfather."

  "Zandramas is here at Ashaba, right?" Belgarath stabbed his finger at a spot in the representation of the Karandese mountains.

  "Yes," Garion said.

  "And Mengha's moving west and south out of Calida, over here." The old man poked at the map again.

  "That's what Brador says."

  "He's got her blocked off from most of the continent, Garion. She's been very careful here in Cthol Murgos to avoid populated areas. There's no reason to believe that she's going to change once she gets to Mallorea. Urvon's going to be to the south of her at Mal Yaska, and the wastes to the north are virtually impassable ‑even though it's nearly summer."

  "Summer?"

  "In the northern half of the world it is."

  "Oh. I keep forgetting." Garion peered at the map.

  "Grandfather, we don't have any idea of where 'the place which is no more' might be. When Zandramas leaves Ashaba, she could go in any direction."

  Belgarath squinted at the map. "I don't think so, Garion. In the light of all that's happened in Mallorea -coupled with the fact that by now she knows that we're on her trail‑ I think she almost has to be trying to get back to her power base in Darshiva. Everybody in the world is after her, and she needs help."

  "We certainly aren't threatening her all that much," Garion said moodily. "We can't even get out of Cthol Murgos."

  "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You've got to persuade Zakath that it's vital for us to leave here and get to Mallorea as quickly as possible."

  "Persuade?"

  "Just do whatever you have to, Garion. There's a great deal at stake."

  "Why me?" Garion said it without thinking.

  Belgarath gave him a long, steady look.

  "Sorry," Garion muttered. "Forget that I said it."

  "All right. I'll do that."

  Late that evening, Zakath's cat gave birth to seven healthy kittens while Zith hovered in anxious attendance, warning off all other observers with ominous hisses. Peculiarly, the only person the protective little reptile would allow near the newborn kittens was Velvet.

  Garion had little success during the next couple of days in his efforts to steer his conversations with the convalescing Zakath around to the subject of the necessity for returning to Mallorea. The Emperor usually pleaded a lingering weakness as a result of his poisoning, though Garion privately suspected subterfuge on that score, since the man appeared to have more than enough energy for his usual activities and only protested exhaustion when Garion wanted to talk about a voyage.

  On the evening of the fourth day, however, he decided to try negotiation one last time before turning to more direct alternatives. He found Zakath seated in the chair near his bed with a book in his hands. The dark circles beneath his eyes had vanished, the trembling had disappeared entirely, and he seemed totally alert. " Ah, Belgarion, " he said almost cheerfully, "so good of you to stop by."

  "I thought I'd come in and put you to sleep again," Garion replied with slightly exaggerated sarcasm.

  "Have I been that obvious?" Zakath asked.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact you have. Every time I mention the words 'ship' and 'Mallorea' in the same sentence, your eyes snap shut. Zakath, we've got to talk about this, and time is starting to run out."

  Zakath passed one hand across his eyes with some show o
f weariness.

  "Let me put it this way," Garion pressed on. "Belgarath's starting to get impatient. I'm trying to keep our discussions civil, but if he steps in, I can almost guarantee that they're going to turn unpleasant ‑very quickly."

  Zakath lowered his hand, and his eyes narrowed. "That sounds vaguely like a threat, Belgarion."

  "No," Garion disagreed. "As a matter of fact, it's in the nature of friendly advice. If you want to stay here in Cthol Murgos, that's up to you, but we have to get to Mallorea ‑and soon."

  "And if I choose not to permit you to go?"

  "Permit?" Garion laughed. "Zakath, did you grow up in the same world with the rest of us? Have you got even the remotest idea of what you're talking about?"

  "I think that concludes this interview, Belgarion," the Emperor said coldly. He rose stiffly to his feet and turned to his bed. As usual, his cat had deposited her mewling little brood in the center of his coverlet and then gone off to nap alone in her wool‑lined box in the corner. The irritated Emperor looked with some exasperation at the furry little puddle on his bed. "You have my permission to withdraw, Belgarion," he said over his shoulder. Then he reached down with both hands to scoop up the cluster of kittens.

  Zith reared up out of the very center of the furry heap, fixed him with a cold eye, and hissed warningly.

  "Torak's teeth!" Zakath swore, jerking his hands away. "This is going too far! Go tell Sadi that I want his accursed snake out of my room immediately!"

  "He's taken her out four times already, Zakath," Garion said mildly. "She just keeps crawling back." He suppressed a grin. "Maybe she likes you."

  "Are you trying to be funny.?"

  "Me?"

  "Get the snake out of here."

  Garion put his hands behind his back. "Not me, Zakath. I'll go get Sadi."

  In the hallway outside, however, he encountered Velvet, who was coming toward the Emperor's room with a mysterious smile on her face.