The Malloreon: Book 03 - Demon Lord Of Karanda

by David Eddings

  ‘What would be the point?’ he asked. ‘You can catch her at it, can’t you?’

  ‘Usually, yes—if I know what’s going on. But Zandramas is very skilled at this and she’s very subtle. In many ways she’s even better at it than Asharak the Murgo was.’ She looked around at them. ‘Now listen carefully, all of you,’ she told them. ‘If anything unusual begins to happen to you—dreams, notions, peculiar ideas, strange feelings—anything at all, I want you to tell me about it at once. Zandramas knows that we’re after her, and she’s using this to delay us. She tried it with Ce’Nedra while we were on our way to Rak Hagga, and now—’

  ‘Me?’ Ce’Nedra said in amazement. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Remember your illness on the road from Rak Verkat?’ Polgara said. ‘It wasn’t exactly an illness. It was Zandramas putting her hand on your mind.’

  ‘But nobody told me.’

  ‘Once Andel and I drove Zandramas away, there was no need to worry you about it. Anyway, Zandramas tried it first with Ce’Nedra and now with Garion. She could try it on any one of the rest of us as well, so let me know if you start feeling in the least bit peculiar.’

  ‘Brass,’ Durnik said.

  ‘What was that, dear?’ Polgara asked him.

  He held up Urvon’s crown. ‘This thing is brass,’ he said. ‘So’s that throne. I didn’t really think there’d be any gold left here. The house has been abandoned and wide open for looters for too many centuries.’

  ‘That’s usually the way it is with the gifts of demons,’ Beldin told him. ‘They’re very good at creating illusions.’ He looked around. ‘Urvon probably saw all this as unearthly splendor. He couldn’t see the rotten drapes, or cobwebs, or all the trash on the floor. All he could see was the glory that Nahaz wanted him to see.’ The dirty, twisted man chuckled. ‘I sort of enjoy the idea of Urvon spending his last days as a raving lunatic,’ he added, ‘right up until the moment when I sink a hook into his guts.’

  Silk had been looking narrowly at Velvet. ‘Do you suppose you could explain something for me?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll try,’ she said.

  ‘You said something rather strange when you threw Zith into Harakan’s face.’

  ‘Did I say something?’

  ‘You said, “A present for the leader of the Bear-cult from Hunter.”’

  ‘Oh, that.’ She smiled her dimples into life. ‘I just wanted him to know who was killing him, that’s all.’

  He stared at her.

  ‘You are getting rusty, my dear Kheldar,’ she chided him. ‘I was certain that you’d have guessed by now. I’ve done everything but hit you over the head with it.’

  ‘Hunter?’ he said incredulously. ‘You?’

  ‘I’ve been Hunter for quite some time now. That’s why I hurried to catch up with you at Tol Honeth.’ She smoothed the front of her plain gray traveling gown.

  ‘At Tol Honeth you told us that Bethra was Hunter.’

  ‘She had been, Kheldar, but her job was finished. She was supposed to make sure that we’d get a reasonable man as a successor to Ran Borune. First she had to eliminate a few members of the Honeth family before they could consolidate their positions, and then she made a few suggestions about Varana to Ran Borune while the two of them were—’ She hesitated, glancing at Ce’Nedra, and then she coughed. ‘—ah—shall we say, entertaining each other?’ she concluded.

  Ce’Nedra blushed furiously.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ the blond girl said, putting one hand to her cheek. ‘That didn’t come out at all well, did it? Anyway,’ she hurried on, ‘Javelin decided that Bethra’s task was complete and that it was time for there to be a new Hunter with a new mission. Queen Porenn was very cross about what Harakan did in the west—the attempt on Ce’Nedra’s life, the murder of Brand, and everything that went on at Rheon—so she instructed Javelin to administer some chastisement. He selected me to deliver it. I was fairly sure that Harakan would come back to Mallorea. I knew that you were all coming here, too—eventually—so that’s why I joined you.’ She looked over at the sprawled form of Harakan. ‘I was absolutely amazed when I saw him standing in front of the altar,’ she admitted, ‘but I couldn’t allow an opportunity like that to slip by.’ She smiled. ‘Actually, it worked out rather well. I was just on the verge of leaving you and going back to Mal Yaska to look for him. The fact that he turned out to be Mengha, too, was just sort of a bonus.’

  ‘I thought you were tagging along to keep an eye on me.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, Prince Kheldar. I just made that up. I needed some reason to join you, and sometimes Belgarath can be very stubborn.’ She smiled winsomely at the old sorcerer, then turned back to the baffled-looking Silk. ‘Actually,’ she continued, ‘my uncle isn’t really upset with you at all.’

  ‘But you said—’ He stared at her. ‘You lied!’ he accused.

  ‘“Lie” is such an ugly word, Kheldar,’ she replied, patting his cheek fondly. ‘Couldn’t we just say that I exaggerated a trifle? I wanted to keep an eye on you, certainly, but it was for reasons of my own—which had nothing whatsoever to do with Drasnian state policy.’

  A slow flush crept up his cheeks.

  ‘Why, Kheldar,’ she exclaimed delightedly, ‘you’re actually blushing—almost like a simple village girl who’s just been seduced.’

  Garion had been struggling with something. ‘What was the point of it, Aunt Pol?’ he asked. ‘What Zandramas did to me, I mean?’

  ‘Delay,’ she replied, ‘but more importantly, there was the possibility of defeating us before we ever get to the final meeting.’

  ‘I don’t follow that.’

  She sighed. ‘We know that one of us is going to die,’ she said. ‘Cyradis told us that at Rheon. But there’s always a chance that in one of these random skirmishes, someone else could be killed—entirely by accident. If the Child of Light—you—meets with the Child of Dark and he’s lost someone whose task hasn’t been completed, he won’t have any chance of winning. Zandramas could win by default. The whole point of that cruel game she played was to lure you into a fight with the Chandim and Nahaz. The rest of us, quite obviously, would come to your aid. In that kind of fight, it’s always possible for accidents to happen.’

  ‘Accident? How can there be accidents when we’re all under the control of a prophecy?’

  ‘You’re forgetting something, Belgarion,’ Beldin said. ‘This whole business started with an accident. That’s what divided the Prophecies in the first place. You can read prophecies until your hair turns gray, but there’s always room for random chance to step in and disrupt things.’

  ‘You’ll note that my brother is a philosopher,’ Belgarath said, ‘always ready to look on the dark side of things.’

  ‘Are you two really brothers?’ Ce’Nedra asked curiously.

  ‘Yes,’ Beldin told her, ‘but in a way that you could never begin to understand. It was something that our Master impressed upon us.’

  ‘And Zedar was also one of your brothers?’ She suddenly stared in horror at Belgarath.

  The old man set his jaw. ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

  ‘But you—’

  ‘Go ahead and say it, Ce’Nedra,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing you can possibly say to me that I haven’t already said to myself.’

  ‘Someday,’ she said in a very small voice, ‘someday when this is all over, will you let him out?’

  Belgarath’s eyes were stony. ‘I don’t think so, no.’

  ‘And if he does let him out, I’ll go find him and stuff him right back in again,’ Beldin added.

  ‘There’s not much point in chewing over ancient history,’ Belgarath said. He thought a moment, then said, ‘I think it’s time for us to have another talk with the young lady from Kell.’ He turned to Toth. ‘Will you summon your mistress?’ he asked.

  The giant’s face was not happy. When he finally nodded, it was obviously with some reluctance.

  ‘I’m sorry, my friend,’ Belgarath said to hi
m, ‘but it’s really necessary.’

  Toth sighed and then he sank to one knee and closed his eyes in an oddly prayerful fashion. Once again, as it had happened back on the Isle of Verkat and again at Rak Hagga, Garion heard a murmur as of many voices. Then there came that peculiar, multicolored shimmering in the air not far from Urvon’s shoddy throne. The air cleared, and the unwavering form of the Seeress of Kell appeared on the dais. For the first time, Garion looked closely at her. She was slender and somehow looked very vulnerable, a helplessness accentuated by her white robe and her blindfolded eyes. There was, however, a serenity in her face—the serenity of someone who has looked full in the face of Destiny and has accepted it without question or reservation. For some reason, he felt almost overcome with awe in her radiant presence.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Cyradis,’ Belgarath said simply. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you. I know how difficult it is for you to do this, but there are some answers I need before we can go any further.’

  ‘I will tell thee as much as I am permitted to say, Ancient One,’ she replied. Her voice was light and musical, but there was, nonetheless, a firmness in it that spoke of an unearthly resolve. ‘I must say unto thee, however, that thou must make haste. The time for the final meeting draws nigh.’

  ‘That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about. Can you be any more specific about this appointed time?’

  She seemed to consider it as if consulting with some power so immense that Garion’s imagination shuddered back from the very thought of it. ‘I know not time in thy terms, Holy Belgarath,’ she said simply, ‘but only for so long as a babe lieth beneath his mother’s heart remains ere the Child of Light and the Child of Dark must face each other in the Place Which Is No More, and my task must be completed.’

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘That’s clear enough, I guess. Now, when you came to us at Mal Zeth, you said that there was a task here at Ashaba that needed to be accomplished before we could move on. A great deal has happened here, so I can’t pinpoint exactly what that task was. Can you be a bit more specific?’

  ‘The task is completed, Eternal One, for the Book of the Heavens sayeth that the Huntress must find her prey and bring him low in the House of Darkness in the sixteenth moon. And lo, even as the stars have proclaimed, it hath come to pass.’

  The old man’s face took on a slightly puzzled expression.

  ‘Ask further, Disciple of Aldur,’ she told him. ‘My time with you grows short.’

  ‘I’m supposed to follow the trail of the Mysteries,’ he said, ‘but Zandramas cut certain key passages out of the copy of the Ashabine Oracles she left here for me to find.’

  ‘Nay, Ancient One. It was not the hand of Zandramas which mutilated thy book, but rather the hand of its author.’

  ‘Torak?’ he sounded startled.

  ‘Even so. For know thou that the words of prophecy come unbidden, and ofttimes their import is not pleasing unto the prophet. So it was with the master of this house.’

  ‘But Zandramas managed to put her hands on a copy that hadn’t been mutilated?’ he asked.

  The seeress nodded.

  ‘Are there any other copies that Burnt-face didn’t tamper with?’ Beldin asked intently.

  ‘Only two,’ she replied. ‘One is in the house of Urvon the Disciple, but that one lieth under the hand of Nahaz, the accursed. Seek not to wrest it from him, lest ye die.’

  ‘And the other?’ the hunchback demanded.

  ‘Seek out the clubfooted one, for he will aid thee in thy search.’

  ‘That’s not too helpful, you know.’

  ‘I speak to thee in the words that stand in the Book of the Heavens and were written ere the world began. These words have no language but speak instead directly to the soul.’

  ‘Naturally,’ he said. ‘All right. You spoke of Nahaz. Is he going to line our path with demons all the way across Karanda?’

  ‘Nay, gentle Beldin. Nahaz hath no further interest in Karanda, and his legions of darkness abide no longer there and respond to no summons, however powerful. They infest instead the plains of Darshiva where they do war upon the minions of Zandramas.’

  ‘Where is Zandramas now?’ Belgarath asked her.

  ‘She doth journey unto the place where the Sardion lay hidden for unnumbered centuries. Though it is no longer there, she hopes to find traces of it sunk into the very rocks and to follow those traces to the Place Which Is No More.’

  ‘Is that possible?’

  Her face grew very still. ‘That I may not tell thee,’ she replied. Then she straightened. ‘I may say no more unto thee in this place, Belgarath. Seek instead the mystery which will guide thee. Make haste, however, for Time will not stay nor falter in its measured pace.’ And then she turned toward the black altar standing before the dais where Zith was coiled, still muttering and hissing in irritation. ‘Be tranquil, little sister,’ she said, ‘for the purpose of all thy days is now accomplished, and that which was delayed may now come to pass.’ She then seemed, even though blindfolded, to turn her serene face toward each of them, pausing briefly only to bow her head to Polgara in a gesture of profound respect. At last she turned to Toth. Her face was filled with anguish, but she said nothing. And then she sighed and vanished.

  Beldin was scowling. ‘That was fairly standard,’ he said. ‘I hate riddles. They’re the entertainment of the preliterate.’

  ‘Stop trying to show off your education and let’s see if we can sort this out,’ Belgarath told him. ‘We know that this is all going to be decided one way or the other in nine more months. That was the number I needed.’

  Sadi was frowning in perplexity. ‘How did we arrive at that number?’ he asked. ‘To be perfectly frank, I didn’t understand very much of what she said.’

  ‘She said that we have only as much time as a baby lies in its mother’s womb,’ Polgara explained. ‘That’s nine months.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said. Then he smiled a bit sadly. ‘That’s the sort of thing I don’t pay too much attention to, I guess.’

  ‘What was that business about the sixteenth moon?’ Silk asked. ‘I didn’t follow that at all.’

  ‘This whole thing began with the birth of Belgarion’s son,’ Beldin told him. ‘We found a reference to that in the Mrin Codex. Your friend with the snake had to be here at Ashaba sixteen moons later.’

  Silk frowned, counting on his fingers. ‘It hasn’t been sixteen months yet,’ he objected.

  ‘Moons, Kheldar,’ the hunchback said. ‘Moons, not months. There’s a difference, you know.’

  ‘Oh. That explains it, I guess.’

  ‘Who’s this clubfoot who’s supposed to have the third uncorrupted copy of the Oracles?’ Belgarath said.

  ‘It rings a bell somehow,’ Beldin replied. ‘Let me think about it.’

  ‘What’s Nahaz doing in Darshiva?’ Garion asked.

  ‘Apparently attacking the Grolims there,’ Belgarath replied. ‘We know that Darshiva is where Zandramas originally came from and that the church in that region belongs to her. If Nahaz wants to put the Sardion in Urvon’s hands, he’s going to have to stop her. Otherwise, she’ll get to it first.’

  Ce’Nedra seemed to suddenly remember something. She looked at Garion, her eyes hungry. ‘You said that you saw Geran—when Zandramas tricked you.’

  ‘A projection of him, yes.’

  ‘How did he look?’

  ‘The same. He hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him.’

  ‘Garion, dear,’ Polgara said gently. ‘That’s not really reasonable, you know. Geran’s almost a year older now. He wouldn’t look the same at all. Babies grow and change a great deal during their first few years.’

  He nodded glumly. ‘I realize that now,’ he replied. ‘At the time, I wasn’t really in any condition to think my way through it.’ Then he stopped. ‘Why didn’t she project an image of him the way he looks now?’

  ‘Because she wanted to show you something she was sure you’d recognize.’


  ‘Now you stop that!’ Sadi exclaimed. He was standing near the altar and he had just jerked his hand back out of Zith’s range. The little green snake was growling ominously at him. The eunuch turned toward Velvet. ‘Do you see what you’ve done?’ he accused. ‘You’ve made her terribly angry.’

  ‘Me?’ she asked innocently.

  ‘How would you like to be pulled out of a warm bed and thrown into somebody’s face?’

  ‘I suppose I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll apologize to her, Sadi—just as soon as she regains her composure a bit. Will she crawl into her bottle by herself?’

  ‘Usually, yes.’

  ‘That might be the safest course, then. Lay the bottle on the altar and let her crawl inside and sulk a bit.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ he agreed.

  ‘Are any of the other rooms in the house habitable?’ Polgara asked Silk.

  He nodded. ‘More or less. The Chandim and the Guardsmen were staying in them.’

  She looked around at the corpse-littered throne room. ‘Why don’t we move out of here, then?’ she suggested to Belgarath. ‘This place looks like a battlefield, and the smell of blood isn’t that pleasant.’

  ‘Why bother?’ Ce’Nedra said. ‘We’re leaving to follow Zandramas, aren’t we?’

  ‘Not until morning, dear,’ Polgara replied. ‘It’s dark and cold outside, and we’re all tired and hungry.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘The Chandim and the Guardsmen ran away, Ce’Nedra—but we can’t be at all sure how far they went. And, of course, there are the Hounds as well. Let’s not make the mistake of blundering out into a forest at night when we can’t see what might be hiding behind the first tree we come to.’

  ‘It makes sense, Ce’Nedra,’ Velvet told her. ‘Let’s try to get some sleep and start out early in the morning.’

  The little Queen sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she admitted. ‘It’s just that—’

  ‘Zandramas can’t get away from me, Ce’Nedra,’ Garion assured her. ‘The Orb knows which way she went.’

  They followed Silk out of the throne room and along the blood-spattered corridor outside. Garion tried as best he could to shield Ce’ Nedra from the sight of the crumpled forms of the Guardsmen and Karands he had killed in his raging dash to the throne room of Torak. About halfway down the corridor Silk pushed open a door and held up the guttering torch he had taken from one of the iron rings sticking out of the wall. ‘This is about the best I can do,’ he told Polgara. ‘At least someone made an effort to clean it up.’