Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  Zakath was staring at him.

  "Wouldn't that look grotesque?" Garion said wryly. "’Bel-garion' running from horizon to horizon across the night sky?"

  "You know something, Garion," Zakath said. "I've always believed that someday you and I would go to war with each other. Would you be terribly disappointed if I decided not to show up?"

  "I think I could bear it." Garion grinned at him. "If nothing else, I could always start without you. You could drop by from time to time to see how things were going. Ce'Nedra can fix you supper. Of course, she's not a very good cook, but we all have to make a few sacrifices, don't we?"

  They looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing. The process that had begun at Rak Urga with the quixotic Uigit was now complete. Garion realized with a certain amount of satisfaction that he had taken the first few steps toward ending five thousand years of unrelenting hatred between Alorn and Angarak.

  The Dais paid little attention to them as they strolled along marble streets and past sparkling fountains. The inhabitants of Kell went about their activities quietly and contemplatively, their eyes lost in thought. They spoke but little, since speech among them was largely unnecessary.

  "It's an eerie sort of place, isn't it?" Zakath observed. "I'm not used to cities where nobody does anything."

  "Oh, they're doing something, all right."

  "You know what I mean. There aren't any shops, and nobody's even out sweeping the streets."

  "It is a little odd, I suppose." Garion looked around. "What's even odder is that we haven't seen a single seer since we got here. I thought this was the place where they lived."

  "Maybe they stay indoors."

  "That's possible, I suppose."

  Their morning stroll gained them little information. They tried occasionally to strike up conversations with the white-robed citizens, and although the Dais were unfailingly polite, they volunteered little in the way of talk. They answered questions that were put to them, and that was about all.

  "Frustrating, wasn't it?" Silk said when he and Sadi returned to the house that had been assigned to them. "I've never met a group of people so disinterested in talk. I couldn't even find anybody willing to discuss the weather.”

  "Did you happen to see which way Ce'Nedra and Liselle went?" Garion asked him.

  "Someplace over on the other side of town, I think. I imagine they'll come back when those young women bring us our lunch.”

  Garion looked around at the others. "Did anybody happen to see any of the seers?" he asked.

  "They aren't here," Polgara told him. She sat by a window mending one of Durnik's tunics. “One old woman told me they have a special place. It's not in the city."

  "How did you manage to get an answer out of her?" Silk asked.

  "I was fairly direct. You have to push the Dais a bit when you want information."

  As Silk had predicted, Velvet and Ce'Nedra returned with the young women who were bringing their meals to them.

  "You have a brilliant wife, Belgarion," Velvet said after the Dalasian women had left. "She sounded for all the world as if there weren't a brain in her head. She spent the morning babbling."

  "Babbling?" Ce'Nedra objected.

  "Weren't you?"

  "Well, I suppose so, but 'babbling' is such an unflattering word."

  "I presume there was a reason for it?" Sadi suggested.

  "Of course," Ce'Nedra said. "I saw fairly soon that those girls weren't going to be very talkative, so I filled up the spaces. They began to loosen up after a bit. I talked so that Liselle could watch their faces." She smiled smugly. "It worked out fairly well, even if I do say it myself.”

  "Did you get anything out of them?" Polgara asked.

  "A few things," Velvet replied. "Nothing all that specific, but a few hints. I think we should be able to get a bit more this afternoon."

  Ce'Nedra looked around. "Where's Durnik?" she asked. "AndEriond?"

  "Where else?" Polgara sighed.

  "Where did they find any water to fish in?"

  "Durnik can smell water from several miles away," Polgara toid her in a resigned tone of voice, "and he can tell you what kind of fish are in it, how many, and probably even what their names are."

  "I've never cared all that much for fish myself," Beldin said.

  "I don't know that Dumik does either, uncle."

  "Why does he bother diem then?"

  She spread her hands helplessly. "How should I know? The motives of fishermen are dreadfully obscure. I can tell you one thing, though."

  "Oh? What's that?"

  "You've said a number of times diat you want to have some long conversations with him."

  "Yes, I do."

  "You'd better learn how to fish then. Otherwise, he probably won't be around."

  "Has anybody come by to give us any kind of word about Cyradis?" Garion asked,

  "Not a soul," Beldin replied.

  "We don't really have time for an extended stay," Garion fretted.

  “I might be abJe to stir an answer out of somebody,” Zakath offered. "She commanded me to present myself to her here at Kell." He winced slightly. "I can't believe I just said that. Nobody's commanded me to do anything since I was about eight years old. Anyway, you know what I mean. I could insist that somebody take me to her so 1 can obey her orders."

  "I think you might choke on that one, Zakath," Silk said lightly. "Obey is a difficult concept for someone in your position. “

  "He's an irritating little fellow, isn't he?" Zakath said to Garion.

  "I’ve noticed."

  "Why, your Majesties," Velvet said, all wide-eyed innocence, "what a thing to suggest."

  "Well, isn't he?" Zakath said pointedly.

  "Of course, but it's not nice to talk about it."

  Silk looked slightly offended. "Would you people like for me to go away so you can talk freely?"

  "Oh, that won't be necessary, Kheldar," Velvet said with a dimpled smile.

  They gained little more in me way of information that afternoon, and die frustration of the fruitless quest made them all irritable. "I think perhaps we should follow up that idea of yours," Garion said to Zakath after supper. "First thing tomorrow morning, why don't we go see that old man, Dalian? We'll tell him right out that you're supposed to present yourself to Cyradis. I think it's time to start pushing a little."

  "Right," Zakath agreed.

  Dalian, however, proved to be as unresponsive as all the rest of the citizens of Kell. "Be patient, Emperor of Mallorea," he advised. "The Holy Seeress will come to you at the proper time."

  "And when is that?" Garion asked bluntly.

  "Cyradis knows,'and that's all mat's really important, isn't it?"

  "If he wasn't so old and feeble, I'd shake some answers out of him," Garion muttered as he and Zakath walked back to the house.

  “If this goes on much longer, I might just ignore his age and infirmity," Zakath said. "I'm not in the habit of having my questions evaded this way."

  Velvet and Ce'Nedra were approaching the house from the other direction as Garion and Zakath reached the broad marble steps. The two young women were walking quickly, and Ce'Nedra's expression was triumphant.

  "I think we managed to get something useful at last," Velvet said. "Let's go inside so we can tell everyone at once."

  They gathered again in the domed room, and the blond giri spoke to them quite seriously. "This isn't too precise," she admitted, "but I think it might be all we're likely to get out of these people. This morning, Ce'Nedra and I went back to that house where those young women work. They were weaving, and that's the sort of thing that tends to make people a little less than alert. Anyway, that girl with the large eyes, Onatel, wasn't there, and Ce'Nedra put on her most empty-headed expression and—"

  "I most certainly did not," Ce'Nedra said indignantly.

  "Oh, but you did, dear—and it was absolutely perfect. She stood there all wide-eyed and innocent and asked the young women where we
could find our 'dear friend,' and one of them let something slip that she probably wasn't supposed to have. She said that Onatel had been summoned to serve in 'the place of the seers.' Ce'Nedra's eyes went—if possible—even more vacant, and she asked where that might be. Nobody answered, but one of them looked at the mountain."

  "How can you avoid looking at that monster?" Silk scoffed. "I'm a little dubious about this, Liselle."

  "The girt was weaving, Kheldar. I’ve done that myself a few times, and I know you have to keep your eyes on what you're doing. She looked away in response to Ce'Nedra's question, and then she jerked her eyes back and tried to cover her mistake. I’ve been to the academy, too, Silk, and I can read people almost as well as you can. That girl might as well have screamed it out loud. The seers are somewhere up on that mountain."

  Silk made a face. "She's probably right, you know," he admitted. "That's one of the things they stress at the academy. If you know what you're looking for, most people's faces are like open books." He squared his shoulders. "Well, Zakath," he said, "it looks as if we'll get to climb that mountain a little sooner than we'd expected."

  "I don't think so, Kheldar," Polgara said firmly. "You could spend half a lifetime poking around in those glaciers and still not find the seers."

  "Have you got a better idea?"

  "Several, actually. "She rose to her feet. "Come along, Gar-ion," she said. "You, too, uncle."

  "What are you up to, Pol?" Belgarath asked.

  "We're going to go up and have a look."

  "That's what I suggested already," Silk objected.

  "There's one difference, though, Kheldar," she said sweetly. "You can't fly."

  "Well," he said in an offended tone, "if you're going to be that way about it."

  “I am, Silk. It's one of the advantages of being a woman. I get to do all sorts of unfair things, and you have to accept them because you're too polite not to."

  "One for her side," Garion murmured.

  "You keep saying that," Zakath said, puzzled. "Why?"

  "It's an Alorn joke," Garion told him.

  "Why don't you save yourself a bit of time, Pol?" Belgarath suggested. "See if you can get some confirmation from that group mind before you go swooping off."

  "That's a very good idea, father," she agreed. She closed her eyes and lifted her face. After a moment she shook her head. "They won't let me back in." She sighed.

  "That's a kind of confirmation in itself." Beldin chuckled.

  "I don't exactly follow that," Sadi said, rubbing his freshly shaved scaip.

  "The Dais may be wise," the hunchback told him, "but they're not very shrewd. These two girls of ours have picked up some information. If the information wasn't correct, there wouldn't be any reason to keep Pol out. Since they did keep her out, it indicates that we're on to something. Let's go outside of town," he suggested to Polgara, "so that we don't give away any secrets."

  "I don't really fly all that well, Aunt Pol," Garion said dubiously. "Are you sure you need me?"

  "Let's not take chances, Garion. If the Dais go out of their way to make this place inaccessible, we might need to use the Orb to break through. We'll save time if you come along with it in the first place."

  "Oh," he said, "maybe you're right."

  "Keep in touch," Belgarath said as the three of them started out the door.

  "Naturally," Beldin grunted.

  Once they were out on the lawn, the dwarf squinted around. "Over there, I think," he said, pointing. "That thicket on the edge of town should hide what we're doing."

  "All right, uncle," Polgara agreed.

  "One other thing, Pol," he added, "and I'm not trying to be offensive."

  "That's a novelty."

  "You're in good form this morning." He grinned. "Anyway, a mountain like that one breeds its own weather—and most particularly, its own winds."

  "Yes, uncle, I know."

  “I know how fond you are of snowy owls, but the feathers are too soft. If you get into a high wind, you could end up coming back naked."

  She gave him a long, level look.

  "Do you want all your feathers blown off?"

  "No, uncle, as a matter of fact, I don't."

  "Why don't you do it my way, then? You might even find that you like being a hawk."

  "Blue banded, I suppose?"

  "Well, that's up to you, but you do look good in blue, Pol."

  "You're impossible." She laughed. "All right, uncle, we'll do it your way.”

  "I'D change first," he offered. "Then you can use me as a model to make sure you get the shape right."

  "I know what a hawk looks like, uncle."

  "Of course you do, Pol. I'm just trying to be helpful."

  "You're too kind."

  It felt very strange to make a shape other than dial of a wolf. Garion looked himself over carefully, making frequent comparisons to Beldin, who perched fierce-eyed and magnificent on a branch overhead.

  "Good enough," Beldin told him, "but next time make your tail feathers a little fuller. You need them to steer with."

  "All right, gentlemen," Polgara said from a nearby limb, "let's get started."

  "I'll lead," Beldin said. "I’ve had more practice at this. If we hit a downdraft, sheer away from the mountain. You don't want to get banged up against those rocks.” He spread his wings, flapped a few times, and flew off.

  The only time Garion had been aloft before had been on the long flight from Jarviksholm to Riva after Geran had been abducted. He had flown that time as a speckled falcon. The blue-banded hawk was a much bigger bird, and flying over mountain terrain was much different from flying over the vast open expanse of the Sea of the Winds. The air currents eddied and swirled around the rocks, making them unpredictable and even dangerous.

  The three hawks spiraled upward on a rising column of air. It was an effortless way to fly, and Garion began to understand Beldin's intense joy in flight.

  He also discovered that his eyes were incredibly sharp. Every detail on the mountainside stood out as if it were directly in front of him. He could see insects and the individual petals of wildflowers. His talons twitched involuntarily when a small mountain rodent scurried across a rockfall.

  "Pay attention to what we're here for, Garion," he heard Aunt Pol's voice in the silences of his mind.

  "But—" The yearning to plummet down with his talons spread wide was almost irresistible.

  "No buts, Garion. You've already had breakfast. Just leave the poor little creature alone.”

  "You're taking all the fun out of it for him, Pol," Garion heard Beldin protest.

  "We're not here to have fun, uncle. Lead on."

  The buffeting was sudden, and it took Garion by surprise. A violent downdraft hurled him toward a rocky slope, and it was only at the last instant that he was able to veer away from certain disaster. The downdraft pushed him this way and that, wrenching at his wings, and it was suddenly accompanied by a pelting rainstorm, huge, icy drops that pounded at him like large wet hammers.

  "It isn't natural, Garion!" Aunt Pol's voice came to him sharply. He looked around desperately, but he could not see her.

  "Where are you?" he called out.

  "Never mind that! Use the Orb! The Dais are trying to keep us away!"

  Garion was not entirely positive that the Orb could hear him in that strange place to which it went when he changed form, but he had no choice but to try. The driving rain and howling wind currents made settling to earth and resuming his own shape unthinkable. "Make it stop!" he called out to the stone, "the wind, the rain, all of it!"

  The surge he felt when the Orb unleashed its power sent him staggering through the air, flapping his wings desperately to hold his balance. The air around him seemed suddenly bright blue.

  And then the turbulence and the rain that had accompanied it were gone, and the column of warm air was back, rising undisturbed into the summer air.

  He had lost at least a thousand feet in the downdraft, and he saw Aunt
Pol and Beldin, each over a mile away in opposite directions. As he began again to spiral upward, he saw that they also were rising and veering through the air toward him. "Stay on your guard," Aunt Pol's voice told him. "Use the Orb to muffle anything else they try to throw at us."

  It took them only a few minutes to regain the height they had lost, and they continued upward over forests and rockslides until they reached that region on the flanks of the mountain above the tree line and below the eternal snows. It was an area of steep meadows with grass and wildflowers nodding in the mountain breeze.

  "There!" Beldin's voice seemed to crackle. "It's a trail."

  "Are you sure it's not just a game trail, uncle?" Polgara asked him.

  "It's too straight, Pol. A deer couldn't walk in a straight line if his life depended on it. That trail is man-made. Let's see where it goes." He tilted on one wing and swooped down toward the well-traveled track stretching up one of the meadows toward a gap in a rocky ridge. At the upper end of the meadow, he flared his wings. "Let's go down," he told them. "It might be better if we follow the rest of the way on foot.”

  Aunt Pol and Garion followed him down, and the three of them blurred back into their own forms. "It was touch and go there for a while," Beldin said. "I came within a few feet of bending my beak on a rockslide." He looked critically at Pol-gara. "Would you like to revise your theory about the Dais not hurting anybody?"

  "We'll see."

  "I wish I had my sword," Garion said. "If we run into trouble, we're pretty much defenseless."

  "I don't know if your sword would be much use against the kind of trouble we're likely to come up against," Beldin told him. "Don't lose contact with the Orb, though. Let's see where this goes." He started up the steep trail toward the ridge.

  The gap in the ridge was a narrow pass between two large boulders. Toth stood in the center of the trail, mutely blocking their way.

  Polgara looked him coolly in the face. "We will go to the place of the seers, Toth. It is foreordained."

  Toth's eyes grew momentarily distant. Then he nodded and stepped aside for them.