Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  "But you said‑ " He stared at her. "You lied!" he accused.

  " 'Lie' is such an ugly word, Kheldar, " she replied, patting his cheek fondly. "Couldn't we just say that I exaggerated a trifle? I wanted to keep an eye on you, certainly, but it was for reasons of my own ‑which had nothing whatsoever to do with Drasnian state policy.

  "A slow flush crept up his cheeks.

  "Why, Kheldar," she exclaimed delightedly, "you're actually blushing ‑almost like a simple village girl who's just been seduced."

  Garion had been struggling with something. "What was the point of it, Aunt Pol?" he asked. "What Zandramas did to me, I mean?"

  "Delay," she replied, "but more importantly, there was the possibility of defeating us before we ever get to the final meeting."

  "I don't follow that."

  She sighed. "We know that one of us is going to die," she said. "Cyradis told us that at Rheon. But there's always a chance that in one of these random skirmishes, someone else could be killed ‑entirely by accident. If the Child of Light ‑you‑ meets with the Child of Dark and he's lost someone whose task hasn't been completed, he won't have any chance of winning. Zandramas could win by default. The whole point of that cruel game she played was to lure you into a fight with the Chandim and Nahaz. The rest of us, quite obviously, would come to your aid. In that kind of fight, it's always possible for accidents to happen."

  "Accident? How can there be accidents when we're all under the control of a prophecy?"

  "You're forgetting something, Belgarion," Beldin said. "This whole business started with an accident. That's what divided the Prophecies in the first place. You can read prophecies until your hair turns gray, but there's always room for random chance to step in and disrupt things."

  "You'll note that my brother is a philosopher," Belgarath said, "always ready to look on the dark side of things."

  "Are you two really brothers?" Ce'Nedra asked curiously. "Yes," Beldin told her, "but in a way that you could never begin to understand. It was something that our Master impressed upon us."

  "And Zedar was also one of your brothers?" She suddenly stared in horror at Belgarath.

  The old man set his jaw. "Yes," he admitted.

  "But you‑ "

  "Go ahead and say it, Ce'Nedra," he said. "There's nothing you can possibly say to me that I haven't already said to myself."

  "Someday," she said in a very small voice, "someday when this is all over, will you let him out?"

  Belgarath's eyes were stony. "I don't think so, no."

  "And if he does let him out, I'll go find him and stuff him right back in again," Beldin added.

  "There's not much point in chewing over ancient history," Belgarath said. He thought a moment, then said, "I think it's time for us to have another talk with the young lady from Kell." He turned to Toth. "Will you summon your mistress?" he asked.

  The giant's face was not happy. When he finally nodded, it was obviously with some reluctance.

  "l'm sorry, my friend," Belgarath said to him, "but it's really necessary."

  Toth sighed and then he sank to one knee and closed his eyes in an oddly prayerful fashion. Once again, as it had happened back on the Isle of Verkat and again at Rak Hagga, Garion heard a murmur as of many voices. Then there came that peculiar, multicolored shimmering in the air not far from Urvon's shoddy throne. The air cleared, and the unwavering form of the Seeress of Kell appeared on the dais. For the first time, Garion looked closely at her. She was slender and somehow looked very vulnerable, a helplessness accentuated by her white robe and her blindfolded eyes. There was, however, a serenity in her face ‑the serenity of someone who has looked full in the face of Destiny and has accepted it without question or reservation. For some reason, he felt almost overcome with awe in her radiant presence.

  "Thank you for coming, Cyradis," Belgarath said simply. "I'm sorry to have troubled you. I know how difficult it is for you to do this, but there are some answers I need before we can go any further."

  "I will tell thee as much as I am permitted to say, Ancient One," she replied. Her voice was light and musical, but there was, nonetheless, a firmness in it that spoke of an unearthly resolve. "I must say unto thee, however, that thou must make haste. The time for the final meeting draws nigh."

  "That's one of the things I wanted to talk about. Can you be any more specific about this appointed time?"

  She seemed to consider it as if consulting with some power so immense that Garion's imagination shuddered back from the very thought of it. "I know not time in thy terms, Holy Belgarath," she said simply, "but only for so long as a babe lieth beneath his mother's heart remains ere the Child of Light and the Child of Dark must face each other in the Place Which Is No More, and my task must be completed."

  "All right," he said. "That's clear enough, I guess. Now, when you came to us at Mal Zeth, you said that there was a task here at Ashaba that needed to be accomplished before we could move on. A great deal has happened here, so I can't pinpoint exactly what that task was. Can you be a bit more specific?"

  "The task is completed, Eternal One, for the Book of the Heavens sayeth that the Huntress must find her prey and bring him low in the House of Darkness in the sixteenth moon. And lo, even as the stars have proclaimed, it hath come to pass."

  The old man's face took on a slightly puzzled expression.

  "Ask further, Disciple of Aldur," she told him. "My time with you grows short."

  "I'm supposed to follow the trail of the Mysteries," he said, " but Zandramas cut certain key passages out of the copy of the Ashabine Oracles she left here for me to find."

  "Nay, Ancient One. It was not the hand of Zandramas which mutilated thy book, but rather the hand of its author."

  "Torak?" he sounded startled.

  "Even so. For know thou that the words of prophecy come unbidden, and ofttimes their import is not pleasing unto the prophet. So it was with the master of this house."

  "But Zandramas managed to put her hands on a copy that hadn't been mutilated?" he asked.

  The seeress nodded.

  "Are there any other copies that Burnt‑face didn't tamper with?" Beldin asked intently.

  "Only two," she replied. "One is in the house of Urvon the Disciple, but that one lieth under the hand of Nahaz, the accursed. Seek not to wrest it from him, lest ye die."

  "And the other?" the hunchback demanded.

  "Seek out the clubfooted one, for he will aid thee in thy search."

  "That's not too helpful, you know."

  "I speak to thee in the words that stand in the Book of the Heavens and were written ere the world began. These words have no language but speak instead directly to the soul."

  "Naturally," he said. "All right. You spoke of Nahaz. Is he going to line our path with demons all the way across Karanda?"

  "Nay, gentle Beldin. Nahaz hath no further interest in Karanda, and his legions of darkness abide no longer there and respond to no summons, however powerful. They infest instead the plains of Darshiva where they do war upon the minions of Zandramas."

  "Where is Zandramas now?" Belgarath asked her.

  "She doth journey unto the place where the Sardion lay hidden for unnumbered centuries. Though it is no longer there, she hopes to find traces of it sunk into the very rocks and to follow those traces to the Place Which Is No More."

  "Is that possible?"

  Her face grew very still. "That I may not tell thee," she replied. Then she straightened. "I may say no more unto thee in this place, Belgarath. Seek instead the mystery which will guide thee. Make haste, however, for Time will not stay nor falter in its measured pace." And then she turned toward the black altar standing before the dais where Zith was coiled, still muttering and hissing in irritation. "Be tranquil, little sister," she said, "for the purpose of all thy days is now accomplished, and that which was delayed may now come to pass." She then seemed, even though blindfolded, to turn her serene face toward each of them, pausing briefly only to bow her head to
Polgara in a gesture of profound respect. At last she turned to Toth. Her face was filled with anguish, but she said nothing. And then she sighed and vanished.

  Beldin was scowling. "That was fairly standard," he said. "I hate riddles. They're the entertainment of the preliterate."

  "Stop trying to show off your education and let's see if we can sort things out," Belgarath told him. "We know that this is all going to be decided one way or the other in nine more months. That was the number I needed."

  Sadi was frowning in perplexity. "How did we arrive at that number?" he asked. "To be perfectly frank, I didn't understand very much of what she said."

  " She said that we have only as much time as a baby lies in its mother's womb," Polgara explained. "That's nine months."

  "Oh," he said. Then he smiled a bit sadly. "That's the sort of thing I don't pay too much attention to, I guess."

  "What was that business about the sixteenth moon?" Silk asked. "I didn't follow that at all."

  "This whole thing began with the birth of Belgarion's son," Beldin told him. "We found a reference to that in the Mrin Codex. Your friend with the snake had to be here at Ashaba sixteen moons later."

  Silk frowned, counting on his fingers. "It hasn't been sixteen months yet," he objected.

  "Moons, Kheldar," the hunchback said. "Moons, not months. There's a difference, you know."

  "Oh. That explains it, I guess."

  "Who's this clubfoot who's supposed to have the third copy of the Oracles?" Belgarath said.

  "It rings a bell somehow," Beldin replied. "Let me think about it."

  "What's Nahaz doing in Darshiva?" Garion asked.

  "Apparently attacking the Grolims there," Belgarath replied. "We know that Darshiva is where Zandramas originally came from and that the church in that region belongs to her. If Nahaz wants to put the Sardion in Urvon's hands, he's going to have to stop her. Otherwise, she'll get to it first."

  Ce'Nedra seemed to suddenly remember something. She looked at Garion, her eyes hungry. "You said that you saw Geran ‑when Zandramas tricked you."

  "A projection of him, yes."

  "How did he look?"

  "The same. He hadn't changed a bit since the last time I saw him."

  "Garion, dear," Polgara said gently. "That's not really reasonable, you know. Geran's almost a year older now. He wouldn't look the same at all. Babies grow and change a great deal during their first few years."

  He nodded glumly. "I realize that now," he replied. "At the time, I wasn't really in any condition to think my way through it." Then he stopped. "Why didn't she project an image of him the way he looks now?"

  "Because she wanted to show you something she was sure you'd recognize."

  "Now you stop that!" Sadi exclaimed. He was standing near the altar and he had just jerked his hand back out of Zith's range. The little green snake was growling ominously at him. The eunuch turned toward Velvet. "Do you see what you've done?" he accused. "You've made her terribly angry."

  "Me?" she asked innocently.

  "How would you like to be pulled out of a warm bed and thrown into somebody's face?"

  "I suppose I hadn't thought about that. I'll apologize to her, Sadi ‑just as soon as she regains her composure a bit. Will she crawl into her bottle by herself?"

  "Usually, yes."

  "That might be the safest course, then. Lay the bottle on the altar and let her crawl inside and sulk a bit."

  "You're probably right," he agreed.

  " Are any of the other rooms in the house habitable?" Polgara asked Silk.

  He nodded. "More or less. The Chandim and the Guardsmen were staying in them."

  She looked around at the corpse‑littered throne room.

  "Why don't we move out of here, then?" she suggested to Belgarath. "This place looks like a battlefield, and the smell of blood isn't that pleasant."

  "Why bother?" Ce'Nedra said. "We're leaving to follow Zandramas, aren't we?"

  "Not until morning, dear," Polgara replied. "It's dark and cold outside, and we're all tired and hungry."

  "But‑"

  "The Chandim and the Guardsmen ran away, Ce'Nedra ‑but we can't be at all sure how far they went. And, of course, there are the Hounds as well. Let's not make the mistake of blundering out into a forest at night when we can't see what might be hiding behind the first tree we come to."

  "It makes sense, Ce'Nedra," Velvet told her. "Let's try to get some sleep and start out early in the morning."

  The little Queen sighed. "I suppose you're right," she admitted. "It's just that‑"

  "Zandramas can't get away from me, Ce'Nedra," Garion assured her. "The Orb knows which way she went."

  They followed Silk out of the throne room and along the blood‑spattered corridor outside. Garion tried as best he could to shield Ce'Nedra from the sight of the crumpled forms of the Guardsmen and Karands he had killed in his raging dash to the throne room of Torak. About halfway down the corridor Silk pushed open a door and held up the guttering torch he had taken from one of the iron rings sticking out of the wall. "This is about the best I can do," he told Polgara. "At least someone made an effort to clean it up."

  She looked around. The room had the look of a barracks. Bunks protruded from the walls and there was a table with benches in the center. There was a fireplace at the far end with the last embers of a fire glowing inside. "Adequate," she said.

  "I'd better go look after the horses," Durnik said. "Is there a stable anywhere on the grounds?"

  "It's down at the far end of the courtyard," Beldin told him, "and the Guardsmen who were here probably put in a supply of fodder and water for their own mounts."

  "Good," Durnik said.

  "Would you bring in the packs with my utensils and the stores, dear?" Polgara asked him.

  "Of course." Then he went out, followed by Toth and Eriond.

  "Suddenly I'm so tired that I can barely stand," Garion said, sinking onto a bench.

  "I wouldn't be at all surprised." Beldin grunted. "You've had a busy evening."

  "Are you coming along with us?" Belgarath asked him.

  "No, I don't think so," Beldin replied, sprawling on the bench. "I want to find out where Nahaz took Urvon."

  "Will you be able to follow him?"

  "Oh, yes." Beldin tapped his nose. "I can smell a demon six days after he passes. I'll trail Nahaz just like a bloodhound. I won't be gone too long. You go ahead and follow Zandramas, and I'll catch up with you somewhere along the way." The hunchback rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. "I think we can be fairly sure that Nahaz isn't going to let Urvon out of his sight. Urvon is ‑or was‑ a Disciple of Torak, after all. Even as much as I detest him, I still have to admit that he's got a very strong mind. Nahaz is going to have to talk to him almost constantly to keep his sanity from returning, so if our Demon Lord went to Darshiva to oversee his creatures there, he's almost certain to have taken Urvon along."

  "You will be careful, won't you?"

  "Don't get sentimental on me, Belgarath. Just leave me some kind of trail I can follow. I don't want to have to look all over Mallorea for you."

  Sadi came from the throne room with his red leather case in one hand and Zith's little bottle in the other. "She's still very irritated," he said to Velvet. "She doesn't appreciate being used as a weapon."

  "I told you that I'd apologize to her, Sadi," she replied. "I'll explain things to her. I'm sure she'll understand."

  Silk was looking at the blond girl with an odd expression. "Tell me," he said. "Didn't it bother you at all the first time you put her down the front of your dress?" She laughed. "To be perfectly honest with you, Prince Kheldar, the first time it was all I could do to keep from screaming."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  At first light the following morning, a light that was little more than a lessening of the darkness of a sky where dense clouds scudded before the chill wind blowing down off the mountains, Silk returned to the room in which they had spent the night. "The house is being watch
ed," he told them.

  "How many are there?" Belgarath asked.

  "I saw one. I'm sure there are others."

  "Where is he? The one that you saw?"

  Silk's quick grin was vicious. "He's watching the sky. At least he looks like he's watching. His eyes are open and he's lying on his back." He slid his hand down into his boot, pulled out one of his daggers, and looked sorrowfully at its once‑keen edge. "Do you have any idea of how hard it is to push a knife through a chain‑mail shirt?"

  "I think that's why people wear them, Kheldar," Velvet said to him. "You should use one of these." From somewhere amongst her soft, feminine clothing she drew out a long‑bladed poniard with a needle-like point.

  "I thought you were partial to snakes."

  "Always use the appropriate weapon, Kheldar. I certainly wouldn't want Zith to break her teeth on a steel shirt."

  "Could you two talk business some other time?" Belgarath said to them. "Can you put a name to this fellow who's suddenly so interested in the sky?"

  "We didn't really have time to introduce ourselves," Silk replied, sliding his jagged‑edged knife back into his boot.

  "I meant what ‑not who."

  "Oh. He was a Temple Guardsman."

  "Not one of the Chandim?"

  "All I had to go by was his clothing."

  The old man grunted.

  "It's going to be slow going if we have to look behind every tree and bush as we ride along," Sadi said.

  "I realize that," Belgarath answered, tugging at one earlobe. "Let me think my way through this."

  "And while you're deciding, I'll fix us some breakfast," Polgara said, laying aside her hairbrush. "What would you all like?"

  "Porridge?" Eriond asked hopefully.

  Silk sighed. "The word is gruel, Eriond. Gruel." Then he looked quickly at Polgara, whose eyes had suddenly turned frosty. "Sorry, Polgara," he apologized, "but it's our duty to educate the young, don't you think?"