Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  His friends were gathered in strange little groupings here and there around the amphitheater. Barak, Hettar, and Mandorallen were talking with Zakath. Liselle sat with a look of abstract concentration on her face, combing Cyradis' hair. The ladies all Seemed quite determined to take the in hand.

  Sadi and Beidin sprawled on the stones near the carcass of the dragon, drinking ale. Sadi's expression was polite, but it nonetheless revealed that he was consuming the bitter brew more out of politeness than from any sense of gusto. Unrak was explori ing, and close on his heels was Nathel, the slack-faced young King of the Thulls. The Archduke Otrath stood alone near the $ now-sealed portal to the grotto, his face filled with apprehensive dread. Kal Zakath had not yet seen fit to discuss certain matters With his kinsman, and Otrath was obviously not looking forward to their conversation. Eriond was talking quietly with Aunt Pol, Dumik, Belgarath, and Poledra. The young God had a strange nimbus of pale light about him. Silk was nowhere in sight.

  And then the little man came around the shoulder of the pyramid. Behind him, on the far side of the peak, rose a column of dark smoke. He came down the stairway to the floor of the amphitheater and crossed to where Garion was sitting.

  "What were you doing?" Garion asked him.”

  "I set out a signal for Captain Kresca," Silk replied. "He i; knows the way back to Perivor, and I’ve seen Barak navigate in | confined waters before. Seabird's meant for the open sea, not I for close quarters."

  "You'll hurt his feelings if you tell him that, you know."

  ”I wasn't planning to tell him." The rat-faced little man i sprawled on the stones beside Garion and his family, "Did Liselle have that little chat with you as yet?" Garion asked.

  "I think she's saving it up. She wants to have plenty of un-; interrupted time for it. Is marriage always like this? I mean, do you always live in perpetual apprehension, waiting for these conversations?"

  "It's not uncommon. You're not married yet, though."

  "I'm closer to it than I ever thought I'd be."

  "Are you sorry?"

  "No, not really. Liseile and I are suited for each other. We have a great deal in common. I just wish she wouldn't keep tilings hanging over my head is all." Silk looked sourly around the amphitheater. "Does he have to glow like that?" he asked, pointing at Eriond.

  "He probably doesn't even know he's doing it. He's new at this. He'll get better at it as he goes along.”

  "Do you realize that we're sitting around criticizing a God?"

  “He was a friend first, Silk. Friends can criticize us without giving offense."

  "My, aren't we philosophical this morning? My heart almost stopped when he touched Belgarath and Poledra with the Orb, though.”

  “Mine, too,” Garion admitted,”but it appears he knew what he was doing." He sighed.

  "What's the problem?"

  "It's all over now. I think I'm going to miss it—at least I will just as soon as I get caught up on my sleep."

  "It has been a little hectic for the past few days, hasn't it? I suppose that if we put our heads together, we can come up with something exciting to do."

  "I know what I'm going to be doing," Garion told him.

  "Oh? What's that?"

  "I'm going to be very busy being a father."

  "Your son won't stay young forever, Garion."

  "Geran isn't going to be an only child. My friend up here in my head warned me to expect large numbers of daughters."

  "Good. It might help to settle you down a bit. I don't want to seem critical, Garion, but sometimes you're awfully flighty. Hardly a year goes by when you're not running off to some corner of the world with that burning sword in your hand.”

  "Are you trying to be funny?"

  "Me?" Silk leaned back comfortably. "You're not going to have all that many daughters, are you? What I'm getting at is that women are only of childbearing age for just so long."

  "Silk," Garion said pointedly, "do you remember Xbell, that Dryad we met down near the River of the Woods in southern Tolnedra?"

  "The one who was so fond of men—all men?"

  "That's the one. Would you say that she's still of childbearing age?"

  "Oh, my yes."

  "Xbell is over three hundred years old. Ce'Nedra's a Dryad, too, you know."

  "Well, maybe you'll get too old to—" Silk broke off and looked at Belgarath. "Oh, dear," he said. "You have got a bit of a problem, haven't you?"

  It was almost noon when they boarded the Seabird. Barak lad agreed, although somewhat reluctantly, to follow Captain :fe';-Kresca to Perivor. After the two men had met and inspected ff each other's ships, however, things went more smoothly. Kresca vf.'had been lavish in his praise of Seabird, and that was always a I.-way to get on the good side of Barak.

  As they weighed anchor, Garion leaned on the starboard rail |; gazing at the strange-looking pyramid sticking out of the sea 1 with a pillar of greasy smoke rising from the amphitheater on I its north side.

  "I'd have given a great deal to have been there," Hettar said quietly, leaning his elbows on the rail beside Garion. “How was it?"

  "Noisy," Garion told him.

  "Why did Belgarath insist on burning that dragon?"

  "He felt sorry for her."

  "Belgarath's funny sometimes."

  "He is indeed, my friend. How are Adara and the children?"

  "Fine. She's with child again, you know."

  "Again? Hettar, you two are almost as bad as Relg and Taiba."

  "Notquite," Hettar said modestly. "They're still a few ahead of us." He frowned critically, his hawk like face outlined against the sun. "I think somebody's cheating, though. Taiba keeps having babies in twos and threes. That makes it very hard for Adara to keep up.”

  "I wouldn't want to point any fingers, but I'd suspect that Mara's been interfering there. It's going to take awhile to repopulate Maragor." He looked over to where Unrak stood in the bow with his shadow, Nathel, just behind him. "What's that all about?" he asked.

  “Tm not sure," Hettarsaid. "Nathel's a pathetic sort of boy, and I think Unrak feels sorry for him. I gather diere hasn't been too much kindness in Nathel's life, so he'll even accept pity. He's been following Unrak around like a puppy ever since we picked him up." The tall Algar looked at Garion. "You look tired," he said. "You should get some sleep."

  "I'm exhausted," Garion admitted, "but I don't want to get my days and nights turned around. Let's go talk with Barak. He seemed just a bit surly when he came ashore."

  "You know how Barak is. Missing a fight always makes him discontent. Tell him some stories. He likes a good story almost as much as he likes a good fight."

  It was good to be back among his old friends again. There had been a sort of emptiness in Garion since he had left them behind at Rheon. The absence of their burly self-confidence had been part of it, of course, but even more than that, perhaps, had been the camaraderie, that sense of good-natured friendship that lay under all the apparent bickering. As they started aft to where Barak stood with one beefy hand on the tiller, Garion saw Zakath and Cyradis standing on the lee side of a-longboat. He motioned to Hettar to stop and laid one finger to his lips.

  "Eavesdropping isn't very nice, Garion," the tall Algar whispered.

  “It's not exactly eavesdropping,” Garion whispered back. “I just need to be sure that I won't have to take steps."

  "Steps?"

  "I'll explain later."

  "And what will you do now, Holy Seeress?" Zakath was asking the slim girl, his heart in his voice.

  "The world lies open before me, Kal Zakath," she replied a little sadly. "The burden of my task hath been lifted, and thou needst no longer address me as 'Seeress,' for, indeed, that burden hath also been lifted. Mine eyes are now fixed on the plain, ordinary light of day, and I am now no more than a plain, ordinary woman."

  "Hardly plain, Cyradis, and far from ordinary."

  "Thou art kind to say so, Kal Zakath."

  "Let's drop that 'Kal,' sha
ll we, Cyradis? It's an affectation. It means King and God. Now that I’ve seen real Gods, I know just how presumptuous it was of me to encourage its use. But let's return to the point. Your eyes have been bound for years, haven't they?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you haven't had occasion to look into a mirror lately, have you?"

  "Neitheroccasion nor inclination."

  Zakath was a very shrewd man and he fully realized when the time had come for extravagance. "Then let mine eyes be thy mirror, Cyradis," he said. "Look into them and see how fair thou art."

  Cyradis blushed. "Thy flattery doth quite catch my breath away, Zakath-"

  ;>,• "It's not exactly flattery, Cyradis," he said clinically, lapsing into his usual speech. "You're by far the most beautiful I’ve ever met, and the thought of having you go back to Jtell—-or anywhere else, for that matter—leaves a vast emptiness & my heart. You’ve lost your guide and your friend. Let me Become both for you. Return with me to Mal Zeth. We’ve got jfttuch to discuss, and it may take us the rest of our lives." tt Cyradis turned her pale face away slightly, and the faintly

  *$tiumphant smile which touched her lips said quite clearly that IJhe saw a great deal more than she was willing to reveal. She : gamed back to the Mallorean Emperor, her eyes innocently wide. “Wouldst thou indeed take some small pleasure in my company?" she asked. "

  "Thy company would fill my days, Cyradis," he said.

  "Then gladly will I accompany thee to Mal Zeth," she said, “for thou art now my truest friend and dearest companion." Garion motioned with his head, and he and Hettar went on aft.

  "What were we doing?" Hettar asked. "That seemed like a private conversation."

  “It was," Garion told him. "I just needed to be sure that it |p0k place, that's all. I was told that it was going to happen, but a little verification now and then."

  Hettar looked puzzled.

  "Zakath's been the loneliest man in the world," Garion told ^him. "That's what made him so empty and soulless—and so dangerous. That's changed now. He isn't going to be lonely imymore, and that should help him with something he has to

  "Garion, you're being awfully cryptic. All I saw was a young lady rather skillfully wrapping a man around her finger.”

  "It did sort of look that way, didn't it?"

  Early the next morning, Ce'Nedra bolted from her bed and nm up the stairs to the deck. Alarmed, Garion followed her. "Excuse me," she said to Polgara, who was leaning out over the rail. Then she took her place beside the ageless woman, and the two of them stood for some time retching over the side. "You, too?" Ce'Nedra said with a wan smile. Polgara wiped her lips with a kerchief and nodded. Then the two of them embraced each other and began to laugh.

  "Are they all right?" Garion asked Poledra, who had just come up on deck with the ubiquitous wolf pup again at her side "Neither one of them ever gets seasick."

  "They aren't seasick, Garion," Poledra said with a mysteri ous smile.

  "But why are they—"

  “They're just fine, Garion. More than fine. Go on back down to your cabin. I '11 take care of this-”

  Garion had just awakened, and his mind was a little foggy. So it was that it was not until he was halfway down the stairs before it slowly dawned on him. He stopped, his eyes very wide. "Ce'Nedra?" he exclaimed. "And Aunt Pol?" Then he, too, began to laugh.

  The appearance of Sir Mandorallen, the invincible Baron of Vo Mandor, in the court of King Oldorin caused an awed silence. Because of Perivor's remote location, Mandorallen's towering reputation had not reached the island, but his very presence—that overpowering sense of his nobility and perfection—stunned the king's court. Mandorallen was the ultimate Mimbrate, and it showed.

  Garion and Zakath, once again in full armor, approached the throne with the stupendous knight between them. "Your Majesty," Garion said with a bow, "it pleaseth me beyond measure to announce that our quest hath come to a happy .and successful conclusion. The beast which plagued thy shores is no more, and the evil which beset the world is quelled for good and all. Fortune, which sometimes doth bestow blessings with open-handed generosity, hath also seen fit to reunite my companions and me with old and well-loved friends—most of whom I shall present to thee anon. A keen awareness, however, of a fact that, me-thinks, will be of supreme importance to thee and to thy court doth impell me to present at once a puissant knight from far-off Arendia, who doth ever stand at the right hand of his Majesty, King Korodullin, and who, doubtless, will greet thee in kinship and love. Your Majesty, I have the honor to present Sir Mandorallen, Baron of Vo Mandor and the paramount knight in all the world."

  "You're getting better at that," Zakath said quietly.

  "Practice," Garion said deprecatingly.

  "Lord King," Mandorallen said in his resonant voice, bowing to the throne, "gladly do I greet thee and the members of thy court, and dare to call ye all kinsmen. I presume to bear thee warmest greetings from their Majesties, King Korodullin and Queen Mayaserana, monarchs of well-loved Arendia, for,

  doubtless, as soon as I return to Vo Mimbre and reveal that those who were once lost are now joyfully found again, their Majesties' eyes will fill to overflowing with tears of thanksgiving, and they shall embrace thee from afar, if needs be, as a brother, and, as great Chaldan gives me strength, shall I presently return to thy magnificent city with missives top-filled with their regard and affection which shall, methinks, presage a soon-to-be accomplished reunion—may I dare even hope, a reunification—of the dissevered branches of the holy blood of sacred Arendia."

  "He managed to say all that in one sentence?" Zakath murmured to Garion with some awe.

  "Two, I think," Garion murmured back. " Mandorallen's in his element here. This is liable to take awhile—two or three days, I'd imagine."

  It did not take quite that long, but almost. The speeches of the nobles of Perivor were at first somewhat rudimentary, since the members of King Oldorin's court had been taken by surprise by Mandorallen's sudden appearance and had been rendered almost tongue-tied by his eloquence. A sleepless night spent in fevered composition, however, remedied that. The following day was given over to flowery speeches, an extended banquet, and assorted entertainments. Belgarath was prevailed upon to present an only slightly embellished account of the events that had transpired on the reef. The old man rather judiciously avoided references to some of the more incredible incidents. The sudden appearance of divinities in the middle of an adventure story sometimes stirs skepticism in even the most credulous audience.

  Garion leaned forward to speak quietly to Eriond, who sat across the banquet table from him. "At least he protected your anonymity,” he said quietly.

  "Yes," Eriond agreed. "I'll have to think of some way to thank him for that,"

  "Restoring Poledra to him is probably all the thanks he can handle right now. It's going to come out eventually though, you know—your identity, I mean."

  "I think it's going to need a bit of preparation, though. I'll need to have a long talk with Ce'Nedra, I think."

  "Ce'Nedra?"

  "I want some details on how she got started when she raised the army she took to Thull Mardu. It seems to me she began on a small scale and then worked her way up. That might be the best way to go at it-”

  "Your Sendarian background is starting to show, Eriond." Garion laughed. "Durnik left his mark on both of us, didn't he?" Then he cleared his throat a little uncomfortably. "You're doing it again," he cautioned.

  "Doing what?"

  "Glowing."

  "Does it show?"

  Garion nodded. "I'm afraid so."

  "I'll have to work on that."

  The banquets and entertainments lasted well into the night for several days, but since nobles are not customarily early risers, this left the mornings free for Garion and his friends to discuss all that had happened since they had separated at Rheon. The accounts of those who had remained at home were filled with domesticity—children, weddings, and affairs of state. Gar-ion was quite ple
ased to hear that Brand's son Kail was managing the Kingdom of Riva probably at least as well as he might have himself. Moreover, since the Murgos were preoccupied with the Mallorean presence in southeastern Cthol Murgos, peace by and large prevailed among the western kingdoms, and trade flourished there. Silk's nose began to twitch at that information.

  "This is all well and good," Barak rumbled. "But could we possibly skip over what's happening back home and get down to the real story? I'm dying of curiosity."

  And so they began. No attempt to gloss things over was permitted. Every detail was savored.

  "Did you really do that?" Lelldorin asked Garion at one point after Silk had luridly described their first encounter with Zandramas, who had assumed the form of the dragon in the hills above the Arendish plain.

  "Well," Garion replied modestly, "not her whole tail, only about four feet of it. It seemed to get her attention, though."

  "When he gets home, our splendid hero here is going to look into die career opportunities available in the field of dragon-molesting. “ Silk laughed.

  “But there aren't any more dragons, Kheldar,” Velvet pointed out.

  "Oh, that's all right, Liselle." He grinned. "Maybe Eriond can make a few for him.”

  "Never mind," Garion told him.

  Then, at a certain point in the narrative, they all had to see Zith, and Sadi rather proudly displayed his little green snake and her wriggling brood.