"I'd appreciate it. We're not familiar with this part of the
world."
"So we go upriver?" Hettar said when Silk's factor was out
of the room looking for the map.
"If it's the only place where we can find out where Garion and the others are, we'll have to," Barak replied.
The current in the Finda River was sluggish, and the oarsmen made good time as they rowed upstream. They reached the river town late the following day and went immediately to Silk's offices there.
The factor here was almost the reverse of the man in Dal Zerba. He was bulky more than fat and he had huge meaty hands and a florid face. He was not particularly cooperative. "How do I know you're the prince's friends?" he demanded suspiciously. "I'm not going to reveal his location to complete strangers."
"Are you trying to be difficult?" Barak asked.
The factor looked at the big red-bearded man and swallowed hard. "No, but sometimes the prince wants his whereabouts kept secret."
"Probably when he's planning to steal something," Hettar added.
"Steal?" the factor objected in a shocked voice. "The prince is a respectable businessman."
"He's also a liar, a cheat, a thief, and a spy," Hettar told him. "Now, where is he? We'd heard that he'd been in Melcene awhile back. Where did he go from there?"
"Can you describe him?" the factor countered.
"Short," Hettar replied, "sort of thin. He's got a face like a rat and a long, pointed nose. He's got a clever mouth and he thinks he's funny."
"That's a fair description of Prince Kheldar," the factor conceded.
"We have heard that our friend standeth in a certain amount of danger," Mandorallen said. "We have sailed many leagues to offer our assistance."
"I was sort of wondering why most of you were wearing armor. Oh, all right. The last I heard was that he was bound for a place called Kell.”
"Show me," Barak said, unfolding his map.
"It's over here," the factor said.
"Is that river navigable?"
"As far north as Balasa."
“Good. We can sail around the southern end of the continent and go up that river. How far back from the main channel is this Kell place?"
“A league or so from the east bank. It's at the foot of a very big mountain. I'd be careful, though. Kell's got a very peculiar reputation. The seers live there, and they don't particularly welcome strangers."
"We'll have to chance it," Barak said. "Thanks for your help, friend. We'll give Kheldar your regards when we catch up with him."
They set out downriver the following morning. There was enough of a breeze so that the sails were able to aid the oarsmen, and they made excellent time. It was shortly before noon when they heard a number of cracking detonations coming from somewhere just ahead.
"Methinks we will encounter a storm ere long," Mandorallen said.
Barak frowned. "The sky's perfectly clear, Mandorallen," he disagreed, "and that doesn't sound exactly right for thunder." He raised his voice. "Ship oars and lower the sail," he commanded his sailors, swinging his tiller over sharply so that Seabird coasted to the bank.
Hettar, Relg, and Lelldorin came up from below. "Why are we stopping?” Hettar asked.
"There's something peculiar going on just up ahead," Barak replied. "I think we'd better go have a look before we blunder into anything."
"You want me to get the horses?"
"I don't think so. It's not very far, and men on horseback are kind of conspicuous.”
"You're starting to sound like Silk."
"We’ve been together for quite a while. Unrak!" he shouted to his son, who had been riding in the bow. "We're going to go see what that noise is all about. You're in charge here until we get back."
"But, father!" the red-haired boy protested.
"That's an order, Unrak!" Barak thundered.
"Yes, sir." Unrak sounded slightly sullen.
The Seabird swung slowly around in the current and bumped gently against the brush-covered riverbank. Barak and the others jumped from the rail to the bank and started cautiously inland.
There were more of those strange detonations that did not sound exactly like thunder.
"Whatever it is, it's coming from just up ahead," Hettar said quietly.
"Let's stay out of sight until we find out what's going on," Barak said. "We've heard that kind of sound before—at Rak Cthol when Belgarath and Ctuchik were fighting."
"Sorcerers, thinkest thou?" Mandorallen suggested.
"I'm not positive, but I'm beginning to have some strong suspicions in that direction. I think we'd better stay under cover until we can see just who or what is out there."
They crept to the edge of a clump of scrubby trees and looked out at an open field.
A number of black-robed figures lay smoking on the turf. Others huddled fearfully near the edge of the field.
"Murgos?" Hettar sounded startled.
"Methinks not, my Lord," Mandorallen said. "If thou wilt look closely, thou wilt see that the hoods of their cloaks are lined in diverse colors. Those colors do indicate rank among the Grolims. Thou wert wise, my Lord of Trellheim, to advise caution."
"What's making them smoke like that?" Lelldorin whispered, nervously fingering his bow.
As if in answer to his question, a black-robed and hooded figure rose at the top of a knoll and gestured almost contemptuously, A ball of incandescent fire seemed to leap from the figure's hand, sizzled across the open field, and struck one of the frightened Grolims full in the chest with another of those cracking detonations. The Grolim shrieked and, clutching at his chest, fell to the earth.
"I guess that explains the noise," Relg observed. "Barak," Hettar said quietly, "that one on top of the knoll is a woman." "Are you sure?"
“I’ve got very good eyes, Barak, and I can tell the difference between a man and a woman."
“So can I, but not when they're all wrapped up in cloaks like that."
“Look at her elbows the next time she raises her arms. Women's elbows are hinged differently from ours. Adara says it has to do with carrying babies."
"Did you fear to come alone, Agachak?" the woman atop the little hill demanded with contempt. Then she flicked another fireball, and another Grolim crumpled to the ground.
"I fear nothing, Zandramas," a hollow voice came from the trees at the edge of the field.
"Now we know who they are," Hettar said. "But why are they fighting?"
"Zandramas is a woman?" Lelldorin asked in amazement.
Hettar nodded. "Queen Porenn found out about it some time back. She sent word to the Alorn kings, and Cho-Hag told me."
Zandramas almost casually felled the three remaining Grolims. "Well, Agachak," she said then, "will you come out of hiding now? Or must I come and find you?"
A tall, cadaverous-looking Grolim stepped out of the trees. "Your fire will have no effect on me, Zandramas," he said, advancing toward the hooded woman.
"I wasn't thinking of fire, Agachak," she almost purred. "This will be your fate." She suddenly seemed to blur and shimmer, and then standing in the place she had occupied was an enormous, hideous beast. It had a long, snakelike neck and huge bat wings.
"Belar!" Barak swore. "She just turned into a dragon!"
The dragon spread her wings and flapped into the air. The cadaverous Grolim shrank back, then raised both arms. There was a shocking sound, and the dragon was suddenly encased in a sheet of green fire. The voice that came thundering from the dragon's mouth was still the voice of Zandramas. "You should have paid more attention to your studies, Agachak. If you had, you'd know that Torak made dragons immune to sorcery." The dragon hovered over the now-terrified Grolim. "Incidentally, Agachak," she said, "you'll be happy to know that Urvon is dead. Give him my regards when you see him." And then she struck, sinking her talons into Agachak's chest. He shrieked once before a sudden billow of sooty fire burst from the dragon's mouth and engulfed his face. And then the dragon bit his
head off.
Lelldorin made a retching sound. "Great Chamdar!" he gasped in a revolted voice. "She's eating him!"
There was a horrid crunching sound as the dragon continued her ghastly feast. Then at last, with a shrill scream of triumph, she spread her huge wings and flew off to the east.
"Is it safe to come out now?" a shaking voice asked from nearby.
"You'd better," Barak said ominously, drawing his sword.
It was a Thull. He was young, with muddy-colored hair and a slack-lipped mouth.
"What's a Thull doing in Mallorea?" Lelldorin asked the stranger.
"Agachak brought me," the Thull replied, trembling violently.
"What's your name?" Relg asked him.
"I'm Nathel, King of Mishrak ac Thull. Agachak said he'd make me Overking of Angarak if I'd help him with something he had to do here. Please, don't leave me alone." Tears were streaming down his face.
Barak looked at his companions. They all had expressions of pity on their faces. "Oh, all right," he said grudgingly. "Come along, I guess."
CHAPTER TEN
"What's the matter with her, Aunt Pol?" Garion was looking at Ce'Nedra, who sat crooning over her blanket-wrapped bundle of rags.
"That's what I need to find out," Polgarasaid. "Sadi, I need some Orel."
"Is that really wise, Lady Polgara?" the eunuch asked. "In her present condition . . ." He spread his thin-fingered hands suggestively.
"If there's any danger, Aunt Pol—" Garion began.
"Orel is relatively harmless," she cut him off. "It stimulates the heart a bit, but Ce'Nedra's heart is strong. I can hear it beating half a continent away. We need to know what happened right now, and Oret is the fastest way.”
Sadi had opened his red leather case and he handed Polgara one of his little vials. She judiciously tapped three drops of the yellow liquid into a cup and then filled the cup with water.
"Ce'Nedra, dear," she said to the little queen, "you must be thirsty. This might help.” She handed the cup to the red-haired girl.
"Why, thank you, Lady Polgara." Ce'Nedra drank deeply. " As a matter of fact, I was just about to ask someone for a drink of water."
"Very smooth, Pol," Beldin whispered.
"Rudimentary, uncle."
"Do you have any idea of what they're talking about?" Zakath asked Garion.
"Aunt Pol implanted the notion of thirst into Ce'Nedra's mind."
"You people can actually do that?"
"As she said, it's rudimentary."
"Can you do it?"
"I don't know. I've never tried." Garion's attention was, however, firmly fixed on his blissfully smiling little wife.
Polgara calmly waited.
"I think you can begin now, Lady Polgara," Sadi said after a few minutes.
"Sadi," she said absently, "we know each other well enough by now to skip the formalities, I'm not going to choke over 'your Excellency,' so why should you strangle on 'my Lady'?"
"Why, thank you, Polgara."
"Now, Ce'Nedra," Polgara said.
"Yes, Aunt Pol?" the tiny queen said, her eyes slightly unfocused.
"There's a first," Silk said to Beldin.
"She's been living with Garion for quite a while now," the dwarf replied. "Things do rub off after a bit."
“I wonder what Polgara'd do if I called her by that name?”
“I don't recommend experimentation,” Beldin told him. “It's up to you, though, and you'd make a very interesting-looking radish."
"Ce'Nedra," Polgara said, "why don't you tell me exactly
how you got your baby back?"
"Arell found him for me." Ce'Nedra smiled. "Now I have even more reason to love Arell.”
"We all love Arell."
"Isn't he beautiful?" Ce'Nedra turned back the blanket to reveal her rags.
"He's lovely, dear. Did you and Arell have a chance to talk at all?"
"Oh, yes, Aunt Pol. She's doing something that's very important. That's why she couldn't join us just now. She said she might be able to catch up with us at Perivor—or maybe later at Korim."
"Then she knew where we're going?"
"Oh, no, Aunt Pol." Ce'Nedra laughed. "I had to teil her. She does so want to be with us, but she has this important thing to do. She asked me where we were going, and I told her about Perivor and Korim. She seemed a little surprised about Korim, though."
Aunt Pol's eyes narrowed. "I see," she said. "Dumik, why don't you set up a tent? I think Ce'Nedra and her baby should get a little rest."
"Right away, Pol," her husband agreed after a quick look at her.
"Now that you mention it, Aunt Pol," Ce'Nedra said happily, "I do feel a little tired, and I'm sure Geran needs a nap. Babies sleep so much, you know. I'll nurse him, and then he'll sleep. He always sleeps after he nurses."
"Steady," Zakath said quietly to Garion as the Rivan King's eyes filled with tears. The Mallorean Emperor put his hand firmly on his friend's shoulder.
"What's going to happen when she wakes up, though?"
"Polgara can fix it."
After Durnik had set up the tent, Polgara led the bemused girl inside. After a moment, Garion felt a slight surge and heard a whisper of sound. Then his aunt came out of the tent carrying Ce'Nedra's bundle. "Get rid of this," she said, pushing it into Garion's hands.
"Is she going to be all right?" he asked her.
"She's asleep now. She'll wake up in about an hour and, when she does, she won't remember that any of this happened. None of us will mention it to her, and that will be the end of it,"
Garion took the bundle back into the woods and hid it under a bush. When he returned, he approached Cyradis. "It was Zandramas, wasn't it?" he demanded.
"Yes," Cyradis replied simply.
"And you knew it was going to happen, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you warn us?"
"To have done so would have been an interference in an event that had to occur."
"That was cruel, Cyradis."
"Necessary events sometimes are. I tell thee, Belgarion, Zandramas could not go to Kelt as thou didst. Therefore, she had to find the location of the meeting from one of thy companions, else she would not be at the Place Which Is No More at the proper time." "WhyCe'Nedra?"
"Zandramas, thou wilt recall, hath imposed her will upon thy queen in times past. It is not difficult for her to reimpose that bond,"
"I'm not going to forgive this, Cyradis." "Garion," Zakath said, "let it go. Ce'Nedra hasn't been hurt, and Cyradis was only doing what she had to do." The Mallorean seemed peculiarly defensive.
Garion turned and stalked away, his face livid with anger. When Ce'Nedra awoke, she appeared to have no memory of the meeting in the woods and seemed to have returned to normal. Durnik struck the tent, and they rode on.
They reached the edge of the forest about sunset and set up for the night there. Garion rather studiously avoided Zakath, not trusting himself to be civil to his friend after he had jumped to the defense of the blindfolded Seeress. Zakath and Cyradis had engaged in a lengthy conversation before they had all left Kell, and now the Emperor seemed wholly committed to her cause. His eyes were sometimes troubled, though, and he frequently turned in his saddle to look at her.
That night, however, when they were both on watch, it was no longer possible for Garion to avoid his friend.
"Are you still angry with me, Garion?" Zakath asked. Garion sighed. "No, I guess not," he said. "I don't think I was really angry—just a little irritated, is all. Most of all, I'm angry with Zandramas, not with you and Cyradis. I don't like people who play tricks on my wife."
"It really had to happen, you know. Zandramas had to find out where the meeting's going to take place. She has to be there, too."
"You're probably right. Did Cyradis give you any details about your task?"
"A few. I'm not supposed to talk about it, though. About all I can tell you is that somebody very important is coming, and I'm supposed to help him."
/>
"And that's going to take you the rest of your life?" "And probably the lives of a lot of others, as well."
"Mine, too?"
"I don't think so. I think your task will be over after the meeting. Cyradis sort of implied that you've done enough already."
They set out early that morning and rode out onto a rolling plain along the west side of the Balasa River. There were farm villages here and there, villages that looked rude, but in which the houses were really very well constructed. The Dalasian villagers labored in the fields with the simplest of tools.
"And it's all subterfuge," Zakath said wryly. "These people are probably far more sophisticated than even the Melcenes, and they've gone to a great deal of trouble to hide the feet."
"Would thy people or the priests of Torak have left them unmolested had the truth been known?" Cyradis asked him.
"Probably not," he admitted. "The Melcenes in particular would likely have pressed most of the Dais into service in the bureaucracy.”
"That would not have been compatible with our tasks." "I understand that now. When I get back to Mal Zeth, I think I'll make some changes in imperial policy toward the Dalasian Protectorates. Your people are doing something much, much more important than raising beets and turnips for die rest of Mallorea."
"If all goes well, our work will be done once the meeting hath taken place, Emperor Zakath.”
"But your studies will continue, won't they?" She smiled. "Inevitably. The habits of eons die very hard." Belgarath pulled his horse in beside Cyradis. "Could you be a bit more specific about what we're supposed to be looking for when we get to Perivof?" he asked her.
"It is as I told thee at Kell, Ancient Belgarath. At Perivor thou must seek out the map that will guide thee to die Place Which Is No More."
“How is it that the people of Perivor know more about it than the rest of the world?” She did not reply.
"I gather that this is another one of those things you're not going to tell me."
"I may not at this time, Belgarath." Beldin came soaring in. "You'd better get ready," he said. "There's a patrol of Darshivan soldiers just ahead." "How many?" Garion asked quickly. "A dozen or so. They've got a Grolim with them. I didn't want to get too close, but I think it's White-eyes. They're hiding in ambush in a grove of trees in the next valley."
Rivan Codex Series Page 379