The Seeress of Kell

by David Eddings

  ‘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 child-bearing 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 child-bearing 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 had agreed, although somewhat reluctantly, to follow Captain Kresca to Perivor. After the two men had met and inspected each others’ ships, however, things went more smoothly. Kresca had been lavish in his praise of Seabird, and that was always a 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 with a pillar of greasy smoke rising from the amphitheater on its north side.

  ‘I’d have given a great deal to have been here,’ 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.’

  ‘Not quite,’ Hettar said modestly. ‘They’re still a few ahead of us.’ He frowned critically, his hawklike 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.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Hettar said. ‘Nathel’s a pathetic sort of boy, and I think Unrak feels sorry for him. I gather there 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 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”, shall 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?’

  ‘Neither occasion 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 back into his usual speech. ‘You’re by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and the thought of having you go back to Kell – or anywhere else, for that matter – leaves a vast emptiness in 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 much to discuss, and it may take us the rest of our lives.’

  Cyradis turned her pale face away slightly, and the faintly triumphant smile which touched her lips said quite clearly that she saw a great deal more than she was willing to reveal. She turned 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 fairly private conversation.’

  ‘It was,’ Garion told him. ‘I just needed to be sure that it took place, that’s all. I was told that it was going to happen, but I like 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 any more, and that should help him with something he has to do.’

  ‘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 ran 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 wolfpup again at her side. ‘Neither one of them ever gets sea-sick.’

  ‘They aren’t sea-sick, Garion,’ Poledra said with a m
ysterious smile.

  ‘But why are they—’

  ‘They’re just fine, Garion. More than fine. Go on back down to your cabin. I’ll 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 which, methinks, 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, pressage 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, to an extended banquet, and assorted entertainments. Belgarath was prevailed upon to present an only slightly embellished account of the events which 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 scepticism in even the most credulous audience.

  Garion leaned forward to quietly speak 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. Garion was quite pleased to hear that Brand’s son Kail was managing the Kingdom of Riva probably as 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 the 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.

  ‘She doesn’t look all that dangerous to me,’ Barak grunted.

  ‘Go tell that to Harakan,’ Silk grinned. ‘Liselle threw the little dear into his face at Ashaba. Zith nipped him a few times and absolutely petrified him.’

  ‘Was he dead?’ the big man asked.

  ‘I’ve never seen anybody any deader.’

  ‘You’re getting ahead of the story,’ Hettar chided.

  ‘There’s no way we’re going to be able to tell you about everything that happened in one morning, Hettar,’ Durnik said.

  ‘That’s all right, Durnik,’ Barak said. ‘It’s a long way back home. We’ll have plenty of time at sea.’

  That afternoon, by more or less popular demand, Beldin was obliged to repeat the performance he had given prior to their departure for the reef. Then, simply to demonstrate some of the gifts of his companions, Garion suggested that they adjourn to the tournament grounds to give them more room. Lelldorin showed the king and his court some of the finer points of archery, culminating the demonstration by showing them an entirely new way to pick plums from a distant tree. Barak bent an iron bar into something resembling a pretzel, and Hettar put them into a state verging on stunned amazement by a dazzling display of horsemanship. The culmination of the affair did not come off too well, however. When Relg walked through a solid stone wall, man
y ladies fainted, and some of the younger members of the audience fled screaming.

  ‘They don’t seem to be ready for that yet,’ Silk said. Silk had resolutely turned his back when Relg had approached the wall. ‘I know I’m not,’ he added.

  About noon a few days later, two ships entered the harbor from different directions. One of the ships was a familiar Cherek war boat, and General Atesca and Bureau Chief Brador disembarked from the other. Greldik led King Anheg and Emperor Varana down the gangway of the war boat.

  ‘Barak!’ Anheg roared as he came down the gangway, ‘can you think of any reason I shouldn’t take you back to Val Alorn in chains?’

  ‘Testy, isn’t he?’ Hettar observed to the red-bearded man.

  ‘He’ll calm down after I get him drunk.’ Barak shrugged.

  ‘I’m sorry, Garion,’ Anheg said in a booming voice. ‘Varana and I tried to catch him, but that big scow of his moves faster than we thought.’

  ‘Scow?’ Barak protested mildly.

  ‘It’s all right, Anheg,’ Garion replied. ‘They didn’t arrive until after everything was finished.’

  ‘You got your son back, then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, trot him out, boy. We all invested a lot of effort in trying to find him for you.’

  Ce’Nedra came forward carrying Geran, and Anheg enfolded them both in a bear-hug. ‘Your Majesty,’ he greeted the Rivan Queen, ‘and you, Your Highness.’ He grinned and tickled the little boy. Geran giggled.

  Ce’Nedra tried a curtsy.

  ‘Don’t do that, Ce’Nedra,’ Anheg told her. ‘You’ll drop the baby.’

  Ce’Nedra laughed and then smiled at Emperor Varana. ‘Uncle,’ she said.

  ‘Ce’Nedra,’ the silvery-haired emperor replied. ‘You’re looking well.’ He squinted at her. ‘Is it my imagination, or are you putting on a little weight?’

  ‘It’s just temporary, uncle,’ she replied. ‘I’ll explain later.’

  Brador and Atesca approached Zakath. ‘Why, your Imperial Majesty,’ Atesca said to his emperor in feigned surprise. ‘Imagine meeting you here – of all places.’

  ‘General Atesca,’ Zakath said to him, ‘don’t we know each other well enough to ignore these subterfuges?’