Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

Belgarath nodded blandly. "I think I've heard about it."

  "Anyway." Arshag went on, "I journeyed into the forest of the north, seeking out the wizards who still practiced their rites in places hidden from the eyes of the Church. In time, I found such a one." His lip curled in a sneer. "He was an ignorant savage of small skill, at best only able to raise an imp or two, but he agreed to accept me as his pupil ‑and slave. It was he who saw fit to put these marks upon my body." He glanced with distaste at his tattoos. "He kept me in a kennel and made me serve him and listen to his ravings. I learned what little he could teach me and then I strangled him and went in search of a more powerful teacher."

  "Note how deep the gratitude of Grolims goes," Silk observed quietly to Garion, who was concentrating half on the story and half on the business of steering the scow.

  "The years that followed were difficult," Arshag continued. "I went from teacher to teacher, suffering enslavement and abuse." A bleak smile crossed his face. "Occasionally, they used to sell me to other wizards ‑as one might sell a cow or a pig. After I learned the arts, I retraced my steps and repaid each one for his impertinences. At length, in a place near the barrens of the north, I was able to apprentice myself to an ancient man reputed to be the most powerful wizard in Karanda. He was very old, and his eyes were failing, so he took me for a young Karand seeking wisdom. He accepted me as his apprentice, and my training began in earnest. The raising of minor demons is no great chore, but summoning a Demon Lord is much more difficult and much more perilous. The wizard claimed to have done it twice in his life, but he may have been lying. He did, however, show me how to raise the image of the Demon Lord Nahaz and also how to communicate with him. No spell or incantation is powerful enough to compel a Demon Lord to come when he is called. He will come only if he consents to come ‑and usually for reasons of his own.

  "Once I had learned all that the old wizard could teach me, I killed him and journeyed south toward Calida again." He sighed a bit regretfully. "The old man was a kindly master, and I was sorry that I had to kill him." Then he shrugged. "But he was old," he added, "and I sent him off with a single knife stroke to the heart."

  "Steady, Durnik," Silk said, putting his hand on the angry smith's arm.

  "At Calida, I found the Temple in total disarray," Arshag went on. "My brothers had finally succumbed to absolute despair, and the Temple had become a vile sink of corruption and degeneracy. I suppressed my outrage, however, and kept to myself. I dispatched word to Mal Yaska, advising Harakan that I had been successful in my mission and that I awaited his commands in the Temple at Calida. In time, I received a reply from one of the Chandim, who told me that Harakan had not yet returned from the west." He paused. "Do you suppose that I could have a drink of water?" he asked. "I have a very foul taste in my mouth for some reason."

  Sadi went to the water cask in the stern and dipped out a tin cup of water. "No drug is completely perfect," he murmured defensively to Garion in passing.

  Arshag gratefully took the cup from Sadi and drank.

  "Go on with your story," Belgarath told him when he had finished.

  Arshag nodded. "It was a bit less than a year ago that

  Harakan returned from the west," he said. "He came up to Calida, and he and I met in secret. I told him what I had accomplished and advised him of the limitations involved in any attempts to raise a Demon Lord. Then we went to a secluded place, and I instructed him in the incantations and spells which would raise an image of Nahaz and permit us to speak through the gate that lies between the worlds and communicate directly with Nahaz. Once I had established contact with the Demon Lord, Harakan began to speak with him. He mentioned Cthrag Sardius, but Nahaz already knew of it. And then Harakan told Nahaz that during the long years that Torak slept, the Disciple Urvon had become more and more obsessed with wealth and power and had at last convinced himself that he was in fact a demigod, and but one step removed from divinity. Harakan proposed an alliance between himself and Nahaz. He suggested that the Demon Lord nudge Urvon over the edge into madness and then aid him in defeating all the others who were seeking the hiding place of Cthrag Sardius. Unopposed, Urvon would easily gain the stone."

  "I gather that you chose to go along with them -instead of warning Urvon what was afoot? What did you get out of the arrangement?"

  "They let me live." Arshag shrugged. "I think Harakan wanted to kill me ‑just to be safe‑ but Nahaz told him that I could still be useful. He promised me kingdoms of my own to rule ‑and demon children to do my bidding. Harakan was won over by the Demon Lord and he treated me courteously."

  "I don't exactly see that there's much advantage to Nahaz in giving the Sardion to Urvon," Belgarath confessed.

  "Nahaz wants Cthrag Sardius for himself," Arshag told him. "If Urvon has been driven mad, Nahaz will simply take Cthrag Sardius from him and replace it with a piece of worthless rock. Then the Demon Lord and Harakan will put Urvon in a house somewhere ‑Ashaba perhaps, or some other isolated castle‑ and they'll surround him with imps and lesser demons to blind him with illusions. There he will play at being God in blissful insanity while Nahaz and Harakan rule the world between them."

  "Until the real new God of Angarak arises," Polgara added.

  "There will be no new God of Angarak," Arshag disagreed. "Once Nahaz puts his hand on Cthrag Sardius -the Sardion‑ both Prophecies will cease to exist. The Child of Light and the Child of Dark will vanish forever. The Elder Gods will be banished, and Nahaz will be Lord of the Universe and Master of the destinies of all mankind."

  "And what does Harakan get out of this?" Belgarath asked.

  "Dominion of the Church ‑and the secular throne of all the world."

  "I hope he got that in writing," Belgarath said dryly. "Demons are notorious for not keeping their promises. Then what happened?"

  "A messenger arrived at Calida with instructions for Harakan from Urvon. The Disciple told him that there must be a disruption in Karanda so violent that Kal Zakath would have no choice but to return from Cthol Murgos. Once the Emperor was back in Mallorea, it would be a simple matter to have him killed, and once he is dead, Urvon believes that he can manipulate the succession to place a tractable man on the throne ‑one he can take with him when he goes to the place where the Sardion lies hidden. Apparently, this is one of the conditions which must be met before the new God arises."

  Belgarath nodded. "A great many things are starting to fall into place." he said. "What happened then?"

  "Harakan and I journeyed again in secret to that secluded place, and I once again opened the gate and brought forth the image of Nahaz. Harakan and the Demon Lord spoke together for a time, and suddenly the image was made flesh, and Nahaz himself stood before us.

  Harakan instructed me that I should henceforth call him by the name Mengha, since the name Harakan is widely known in Mallorea, and then we went again to Calida, and Nahaz went with us. The Demon Lord summoned his hordes, and Calida fell. Nahaz demanded a certain repayment for his aid, and Lord Mengha instructed me to provide it. It was then that I discovered why Nahaz had let me live. We spoke together, and he told me what he wanted. I did not care for the notion, but the people involved were only Karands, so‑" He shrugged."The Karands regard Nahaz as their God, and so it was not difficult for me to persuade young Karandese women that receiving the attentions of the Demon Lord would be a supreme honor. They went to him willingly , each one of them hoping in her heart to bear his offspring ‑not knowing, of course, that such a birth would rip them apart like fresh‑gutted pigs." He smirked contemptuously. "The rest I think you know."

  "Oh, yes, we do indeed." Belgarath's voice was like a nail scraping across a flat stone. "When did they leave? Harakan and Nahaz, I mean? We know that they're no longer in this part of Karanda."

  "It was about a month ago. We were preparing to lay siege to Torpakan on the border of Delchin, and I awoke one morning to discover that Lord Mengha and the Demon Nahaz were gone and that none of their familiar demons were any longe
r with the army. Everyone looked to me, but none of my spells or incantations could raise even the least of demons. The army grew enraged, and I barely escaped with my life. I journeyed north again toward Calida, but found things there in total chaos. Without the demons to hold them in line, the Karands had quickly become unmanageable. I found that I could, however, still call up the image of Nahaz. It seemed likely to me that with Mengha and Nahaz gone, I could sway Karandese loyalty to me, if I used the image cleverly enough, and thus come to rule all of Karanda myself. I was attempting a beginning of that plan this morning when you interrupted."

  "I see," Belgarath said bleakly.

  "How long have you been in this vicinity?" Polgara asked the captive suddenly.

  "Several weeks," the Grolim replied.

  "Good," she said. "Some few weeks ago, a woman came from the west carrying a child."

  "I pay little attention to women."

  "This one might have been a bit different. We know that she came to that village back on the lake-shore and that she would have hired a boat. Did any word of that reach you?"

  "There are few travelers in Karanda right now," he told her. "There's too much turmoil and upheaval. There's only one boat that left that village in the past month. I'll tell you this, though. If the woman you seek was a friend of yours, and if she was on board that boat, prepare to mourn her."

  "Oh?"

  "The boat sank in a sudden storm just off the city of Karand on the east-side of the lake in Ganesia."

  "The nice thing about Zandramas is her predictability," Silk murmured to Garion. "I don't think we're going to have much trouble picking up her trail again, do you?"

  Arshag's eyelids were drooping now, and he seemed barely able to hold his head erect.

  "If you have any more questions for him, Ancient One, you should ask them quickly." Sadi advised. "The drug is starting to wear off, and he's very close to sleep again."

  "I think I have all the answers I need," the old man replied.

  "And I have what I need as well," Polgara added grimly.

  Because of the size of the lake, there was no possibility of reaching the eastern shore before nightfall, and so they lowered the sails and set a sea anchor to minimize the nighttime drift of their scow. They set sail again at first light and shortly after noon saw a low, dark smudge along the eastern horizon.

  "That would be the east-coast of the lake," Silk said to Garion. "I'll go up to the bow and see if I can pick out some landmarks. I don't think we'll want to run right up to the wharves of Karand, do you?"

  "No. Not really."

  "I'll see if I can find us a quiet cove someplace, and then we can have a look around without attracting attention."

  They beached the scow in a quiet bay surrounded by high sand dunes and scrubby brush about midafternoon.

  "What do you think, Grandfather?" Garion asked after they had unloaded the horses.

  "About what?"

  "The boat. What should we do with it?"

  "Set it adrift. Let's not announce that we came ashore here."

  "I suppose you're right." Garion sighed a bit regretfully. "It wasn't a bad boat, though, was it?"

  "It didn't tip over."

  "Capsize," Garion corrected.

  Polgara came over to where they were standing. "Do you have any further need for Arshag?" she asked the old man.

  "No, and I've been trying to decide what to do with him."

  "I'll take care of it, father," she said. She turned and went back to where Arshag still lay, once more bound and half asleep on the beach. She stood over him for a moment, then raised one hand. The Grolim flinched wildly even as Garion felt the sudden powerful surge of her will.

  "Listen carefully, Arshag," she said. "You provided the Demon Lord with women so that he could unloose an abomination upon the world. That act must not go unrewarded. This, then, is your reward. You are now invincible. No one can kill you ‑no man, no demon- not even you yourself. But, no one will ever again believe a single word that you say. You will be faced with constant ridicule and derision all the days of your life and you will be driven out wherever you go, to wander the world as a rootless vagabond. Thus are you repaid for aiding Mengha and helping him to unleash Nahaz and for sacrificing foolish women to the Demon Lord's unspeakable lust." She turned to Durnik. "Untie him," she commanded.

  When his arms and legs were free, Arshag stumbled to his feet, his tattooed face ashen. "Who are you, woman?" he demanded in a shaking voice, "and what power do you have to pronounce so terrible a curse?"

  "I am Polgara," she replied. "You may have heard of me. Now go!" She pointed up the beach with an imperious finger.

  As if suddenly seized by an irresistible compulsion, Arshag turned, his face filled with horror. He stumbled up one of the sandy dunes and disappeared on the far side.

  "Do you think it was wise to reveal your identity, my lady?" Sadi asked dubiously.

  "There's no danger, Sadi." She smiled. "He can shout my name from every rooftop, but no one will believe him."

  "How long will he live?" Ce'Nedra's voice was very small.

  "Indefinitely, I'd imagine. Long enough, certainly, to give him time to appreciate fully the enormity of what it was that he did."

  Ce'Nedra stared at her. "Lady Polgara!" she said in a sick voice. "How could you do it? It's horrible."

  "Yes," Polgara replied, "it is ‑but so was what happened back at that temple we burned."

  CHAPTER TWENTY‑THREE

  The street, if it could be called that, was narrow and crooked. An attempt had been made at some time in the past to surface it with logs, but they had long since rotted and been trodden into the mud. Decaying garbage lay in heaps against the walls of crudely constructed log houses, and herds of scrawny pigs rooted dispiritedly through those heaps in search of food.

  As Silk and Garion, once again wearing their Karandese vests and caps and their cross‑tied sackcloth leggings, approached the docks jutting out into the lake, they were nearly overcome by the overpowering odor of long‑dead fish.

  "Fragrant sort of place, isn't it?" Silk noted, holding a handkerchief to his face.

  "How can they stand it?" Garion asked, trying to keep from gagging.

  "Their sense of smell has probably atrophied over the centuries," Silk replied. "The city of Karand is the ancestral home of all the Karands in all the seven kingdoms. It's been here for eons, so the debris ‑and the smell‑ has had a long time to build up."

  A huge sow, trailed by a litter of squealing piglets, waddled out into the very center of the street and flopped over on her side with a loud grunt. The piglets immediately attacked, pushing and scrambling to nurse.

  "Any hints at all?" Silk asked.

  Garion shook his head. The sword strapped across his back had neither twitched nor tugged since the two of them had entered the city early that morning on foot by way of the north gate. "Zandramas might not have even entered the city at all," he said. "She's avoided populated places before, you know."

  "That's true, I suppose," Silk admitted, "but I don't think we should go any farther until we locate the place where she landed. She could have gone in any direction once she got to this side of the lake ‑Darshiva, Zamad, Voresebo‑ even down into Delchin and then on down the Magan into Rengel or Peldane."

  "I know," Garion said, "but all this delay is very frustrating. We're getting closer to her. I can feel it, and every minute we waste gives her that much more time to escape again with Geran."

  "It can't be helped." Silk shrugged. "About all we can do here is follow the inside of the wall and walk along the waterfront. If she came through the city at all, we're certain to cross her path."

  They turned a corner and looked down another muddy street toward the lake-shore where fishnets hung over long poles. They slogged through the mud until they reached the street that ran along the shoreline where floating docks reached out into the lake and then followed it along the waterfront.

  There was a certain amount
of activity here. A number of sailors dressed in faded blue tunics were hauling a boat half‑full of water up onto the shore with a large deal of shouting and contradictory orders. Here and there on the docks, groups of fishermen in rusty brown sat mending nets, and farther on along the street several loiterers in fur vests and leggings sat on the log stoop in front of a sour‑smelling tavern, drinking from cheap tin cups. A blowzy young woman with frizzy orange hair and a pockmarked face leaned out of a second‑story window, calling to passersby in a voice she tried to make seductive, but which Garion found to be merely coarse.

  "Busy place," Silk murmured.

  Garion grunted, and they moved on along the littered street.

  Coming from the other direction, they saw a group of armed men. Though they all wore helmets of one kind or another, the rest of their clothing was of mismatched colors and could by no stretch of the imagination be called uniforms. Their self‑important swagger, however, clearly indicated that they were either soldiers or some kind of police.

  "You two! Halt!" one of them barked as they came abreast of Garion and Silk.

  "Is there some problem, sir?" Silk asked ingratiatingly.

  "I haven't seen you here before," the man said, his hand on his sword hilt. He was a tall fellow with lank red hair poking out from under his helmet. "Identify yourselves."

  "My name is Saldas," Silk lied. "This is Kvasta." He pointed at Garion. "We're strangers here in Karand."

  "What's your business here ‑and where do you come from?"

  "We're from Dorikan in Jenno," Silk told him, "and we're here looking for my older brother. He sailed out from the village of Dashun on the other side of the lake awhile back and hasn't returned."

  The redheaded man looked suspicious.

  "We talked with a fellow near the north gate," Silk continued, "and he told us that there was a boat that sank in a storm just off the docks here." His face took on a melancholy expression. "The time would have been just about right, I think, and the description he gave us of the boat matched the one my brother was sailing. Have you by any chance heard about it, sir?" The little man sounded very sincere.