"Thank you," Varana said with a slight bow. "And how are affairs in Salmissra's palace?"
Sadi laughed sardonically. " The same as they always are. We connive and plot and scheme against each other, and every scrap of food prepared in our kitchens is tainted with prison."
"I'd heard that was the custom," Varana remarked. "How does one survive in such a lethal atmosphere?"
"Nervously," Sadi replied, making a sour face. "We are all on a strict regimen. We routinely dose ourselves with every known antidote to every known poison. Some of the poisons are actually quite flavorful. The antidotes all taste foul, however."
"The price of power, I suppose."
"Truly. What was the reaction of the Grand Dukes of Tolnedra when the Emperor designated you his heir?"
Varana laughed. "You could hear the screams echoing from the wood of the Dryads to the Arendish border."
"When the time comes, you may have to step on a few necks."
"It's possible."
"Of course the legions are all loyal to you."
"The legions are a great comfort to me."
"I think I like you, General Varana," the shaved-headed Nyissan said. "I'm certain that you and I will be able to come to some mutually profitable accommodations."
"I always like to be on good terms with my neighbors, Sadi," Varana agreed with aplomb.
In another corridor, Errand found a strangely assorted group. King Fulrach of Sendaria, dressed in sober, businesslike brown, was speaking quietly with the purple-garbed King Korodullin of Arendia and with the scabrous-looking Drosta lek Thun, who wore a richly jeweled doublet of an unwholesome-looking yellow.
"Have either of you heard anything about any decisions concerning a regency?" the emaciated Nadrak king asked in his shrill voice. Drosta's eyes bulged, seeming almost to start out of his pock-marked face, and he fidgeted continuously.
"I would imagine that Queen Porenn will guide the young king," Fulrach surmised.
"They surely wouldn't put a woman in charge," Drosta scoffed. "I know Alorns, and they all look at women as subhuman."
"Porenn is not exactly like other women," the King of Sendaria noted. "She's extraordinarily gifted."
"How could a woman possibly defend the borders of so large a kingdom as Drasnia?"
"Thy perception is awry, your Majesty," Korodullin told the Nadrak with uncharacteristic bluntness. "Inevitably, the other Alorn Kings will support her, and most particularly Belgarion of Riva will defend her. Methinks no monarch alive would be so foolhardy as to counter the wishes of the Overlord of the West."
"Riva's a long way away," Drosta suggested, his eyes narrowing.
"Not so far, Drosta," Fulrach told him. "Belgarion has a very long arm."
"What news hast thou heard from the south, your Majesty?" Korodullin asked the King of the Nadraks.
Drosta made an indelicate sound. "Kal Zakath is wading in Murgo blood," he said disgustedly. "He's pushed Urgit into the western mountains and he's butchering every Murgo he can lay his hands on. I keep hoping that someone will stick an arrow into him, but you can't depend on a Murgo to do anything right."
"Have you considered an alliance with King Gethell?" Fulrach asked.
"With the Thulls? You're not serious, Fulrach. I wouldn't saddle myself with the Thulls, even if it meant that I had to face the Malloreans alone. Gethell's so afraid of 'Zakath that he wets himself at the mention of his name. After the Battle of Thull Mardu, 'Zakath told my Thullish cousin that the very next time Gethell displeased him, he was going to have Gethell crucified. If Kal Zakath decides to come north, Gethell will probably hide himself under the nearest manure pile."
" 'Zakath is not overfond of thee either, I am told," Korodullin said.
Drosta laughed a shrill, somehow hysterical-sounding laugh. "He wants to grill me over a slow fire," he replied. "And possibly use my skin to make a pair of shoes."
"I'm amazed that you Angaraks didn't destroy each other eons ago." Fulrach smiled.
"Torak told us not to." Drosta shrugged. "And he told his Grolims to gut anybody who disobeyed. We may not always have liked Torak, but we always did what he told us to do. Only an idiot did otherwise -a dead idiot, usually."
On the following day, Belgarath the Sorcerer arrived from the East, and King Rhodar of Drasnia was laid to rest. The small blonde Queen Porenn, dressed in deepest black, stood beside young King Kheva during the ceremony . Prince Kheldar stood directly behind the young king and his mother, and there was a strange, almost haunted look in his eyes. As Errand looked at him, he could see very plainly that the little spy had loved his uncle's tiny wife for years, but also that Porenn, though she was fond of him, did not return that love.
State funerals, like all state functions, are long. Both Queen Porenn and her young son were very pale during the interminable proceedings, but at no time did either of them show any outward signs of grief.
Immediately following the funeral, Kheva's coronation took place, and the newly crowned Drasnian king announced in a piping but firm voice that his mother would guide him through the difficult years ahead.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, Belgarion, King of Riva and Overlord of the West, arose and briefly addressed the assembled notables. He welcomed Kheva to the rather exclusive fraternity of reigning monarchs, complimented him on the wisdom of the choice of the Queen Mother as regent and then advised one and all that he fully supported Queen Porenn and that anyone offering her the slightest impertinence would most surely regret it. Since he was leaning on the massive sword of Riva Iron-grip as he made that declaration, everyone in the Drasnian throne room took him very seriously.
A few days later, the visitors all departed.
Spring had come to the plains of Algaria as Polgara, Durnik, Errand, and Belgarath rode southward in the company of King Cho-Hag and Queen Silar.
"A sad journey." Cho-Hag said to Belgarath as they rode. "I'm going to miss Rhodar."
"I think we all will," Belgarath replied. He looked ahead where a vast herd of cattle under the watchful eyes of a band of Algar clansmen was plodding slowly west toward the mountains of Sendaria and the great cattle fair at Muros.
"I'm a little surprised that Hettar agreed to go back to Riva with Garion at this time of year. He's usually at the head of the cattle herds."
"Adara persuaded him," Queen Silar told the old man.
"She and Ce'Nedra wanted to spend some time together, and there's almost nothing that Hettar won't do for his wife."
Polgara smiled. "Poor Hettar," she said. "With both Adara and Ce'Nedra working on him, he didn't stand a chance. That's a pair of very determined young ladies."
"The change of scenery will do him good," Cho-Hag noted. "He always gets restless in the summertime and, now that all the Murgos have retreated to the south, he can't even amuse himself by hunting down their raiding parties."
When they reached southern Algaria, Cho-Hag and Silar bade them farewell and turned eastward toward the Stronghold. The rest of the ride south to the Vale was uneventful.
Belgarath stayed at the cottage for a few days and then prepared to return to his tower. Almost as an afterthought, he invited Errand to accompany him.
"We are a bit behind here, father," Polgara told him. "I need to get my garden in, and Durnik has a great deal of work ahead of him after this past winter."
"Then it's probably best if the boy is out from underfoot, isn't it?"
She gave him along steady look and then finally gave up. "Oh, very well, father." she said.
"I knew you'd see it my way, Pol," he said.
"Just don't keep him all summer."
"Of course not. I want to talk with the twins for a while and see if Beldin has come back. I'll be off again in a month or so. I'll bring him home then."
And so Errand and Belgarath went on down into the heart of the Vale again and once more took up residence in the old man's tower. Beldin had not yet returned from Mallorea, but Belgarath had much to discuss with Beltira and
Belkira, and so Errand and his chestnut stallion were left largely to find their own amusements.
It was on a bright summer morning that they turned toward the western edge of the Vale to explore the foothills that marked the boundary of Ulgoland. They had ridden for several miles through those rolling, tree-clad hills and stopped in a broad, shallow ravine where a tumbling brook babbled over mossy green stones. The morning sun was very warm, and the shade of the tall, fragrant pines was pleasant.
As they sat, a she-wolf padded quietly from out of the bushes at the edge of the brook, stopped, and sat on her haunches to look at them. There was about the she-wolf a peculiar blue nimbus, a soft glow that seemed to emanate from her thick fur.
The normal reaction of a horse to the presence or even the scent of a wolf would have been blind panic, but the stallion returned the blue wolf's gaze calmly, with not even so much as a hint of a tremor.
The boy knew who the wolf was, but he was surprised to meet her here. "Good morning," he said politely to her.
"It's a pleasant day, isn't it?" The wolf seemed to shimmer in the same way that Beldin shimmered as he assumed the shape of the hawk. When the air around her cleared, there stood in the animal's place a tawny-haired woman with golden eyes and a faintly amused smile on her lips. Though her gown was a plain brown such as one might see on any peasant woman, she wore it in a regal manner which any queen in jeweled brocade might envy. "Do you always greet wolves with such courtesy?" she asked him.
"I haven't met many wolves," he replied, "but I was fairly certain who you were."
"Yes, I suppose you would have been, at that."
Errand slid own off the horse's back.
"Does he know where you are this morning?"
"Belgarath? Probably not. He's talking with Beltira and Belkira, so the horse and I just came out to look at someplace new."
"It would be best perhaps if you didn't go too much farther into the Ulgo mountains," she advised. "There are creatures in these hills that are quite savage."
He nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Will you do something for me?" she asked quite directly.
"If I can."
"Speak to my daughter."
"Of course."
"Tell Polgara that there is a great evil in the world and a great danger."
"Zandramas?" Errand asked.
"Zandramas is a part of it, but the Sardion is at the center of the evil. It must be destroyed. Tell my husband and my daughter to warn Belgarion. His task is not yet finished."
"I'll tell them," Errand promised, "but couldn't you just as easily tell Polgara yourself?"
The tawny-haired woman looked off down the shady ravine. "No," she replied sadly. "It causes her too much pain when I appear to her."
"Why is that?"
"It reminds her of all the lost years and brings back all the anguish of a young girl who had to grow up without her mother to guide her. All of that comes back to her each time she sees me."
"You've never told her then? Of the sacrifice you were asked to make?"
She looked at him penetratingly. "How is it that you know what even my husband and Polgara do not?"
"I'm not sure," he replied. "I do, though -just as I know that you did not die."
"And will you tell Polgara that?"
"Not if you'd rather I didn't."
She sighed. "Someday, perhaps, but not yet. I think it's best if she and her father aren't aware of it. My task still lies ahead of me and it's a thing I can face best without any distractions."
"Whatever you wish," Errand said politely.
"We'll meet again," she told him. "Warn them about the Sardion. Tell them not to become so caught up in the search for Zandramas that they lose sight of that. It is from the Sardion that the evil stems. And be a trifle wary of Cyradis when next you meet her. She means you no ill, but she has her own task as well and she will do what she must to complete it."
"I will, Poledra," he promised.
"Oh," she said, almost as an afterthought, "there's someone waiting for you just up ahead there." She gestured toward the long tongue of a rock-strewn ridge thrusting out into the grassy Vale. "He can't see you yet, but he's waiting." Then she smiled, shimmered back into the form of the blue-tinged wolf, and loped away without a backward glance.
Curiously, Errand remounted and rode up out of the ravine and continued on southward, skirting the higher hills that rose toward the glistening white peaks of the land of the Ulgos as he rode toward the ridge. Then, as his eyes searched the rocky slope, he caught a momentary flicker of sunlight reflected from something shiny in the middle of a brushy outcrop halfway up the slope. Without hesitation, he rode in that direction.
The man who sat among the thick bushes wore a peculiar shirt of mail, constructed of overlapping metal scales. He was short but had powerful shoulders, and his eyes were veiled with a gauzy strip of cloth that was not so much a blindfold as it was a shield against the bright sunlight.
"Is that you, Errand?" the veiled man asked in a harsh-sounding voice.
"Yes," Errand replied. "I haven't seen you in along time, Relg."
"I need to talk with you," the harsh-voiced zealot said. "Can we get back out of the light?"
"Of course." Errand slid down off his horse and followed the Ulgo through the rustling bushes to a cave mouth running back into the hillside. Relg stooped slightly under the overhanging rock and went. inside. "I thought I recognized you," he said as Errand joined him in the cool dimness within the cave, "but I couldn't be sure out there in all that light." He untied the cloth from across his eyes and peered at the boy. "You've grown."
Errand smiled. "It's been a few years. How is Taiba?"
"She has given me a son," Relg said, almost in a kind of wonder. "A very special son."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"When I was younger and filled with the notion of my own sanctity, UL spoke to me in my soul. He told me that the child who will be the new Gorim would come to Ulgo through me. In my pride I thought that he meant that I was to seek out the child and reveal him. How could I know that what he meant was a much simpler thing? It is my son that he spoke of. The mark is on my son -my son!" There was an awed pride in the zealot's voice.
"UL's ways are not the ways of men."
"How truly you speak."
"And are you happy?"
"My life is filled," Relg said simply. "But now I have another task. Our aged Gorim has sent me to seek out Belgarath. It is urgent that he come with me to Prolgu."
"He's not very far away," Errand said. He looked at Relg and saw how, even in this dim cave, the zealot kept his eyes squinted almost shut to protect them from the light. "I have a horse," he said. "I can go and bring him back here in a few hours, if you want. That way you won't have to go out into the sunlight."
Relg gave him a quick, grateful look and then nodded. "Tell him that he must come. The Gorim must speak with him."
"I will," Errand promised. Then he turned and left the cave.
"What does he want?" Belgarath demanded irritably when Errand told him that Relg wanted to see him.
"He wants you to go with him to Prolgu," Errand replied. "The Gorim wants to see you -the old one."
"The old one? Is there a new one?"
Errand nodded. "Relg's son," he said.
Belgarath stared at Errand for a moment and then he suddenly began to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"It appears that UL has a sense of humor," the old man chortled. "I wouldn't have suspected that of him."
"I don't quite follow."
"It's a very long story"' Belgarath said, still laughing. "I guess that, if the Gorim wants to see me, we'd better go."
"You want me to go along?"
"Polgara would skin me alive if I left you here alone. Let's get started."
Errand led the old man back across the Vale to the ridgeline in the foothills and the cave where Relg waited. It took a few minutes to explain to the young horse that he
was supposed to go back to Belgarath's tower alone. Errand spoke with him at some length, and it finally appeared that the animal had grasped the edges, at least, of the idea.
The trip through the dark galleries to Prolgu took several days. For most of the way, Errand felt that they were groping along blindly; but for Relg, whose eyes were virtually useless in open daylight, these lightless passageways were home, and his sense of direction was unerring. And so it was that they came at last to the faintly lighted cavern with its shallow glass-clear lake and the island rising in the center where the aged Gorim awaited them.
"Yad ho, Belgarath," the saintly old man in his white robe called when they reached the shore of the subterranean lake, "Groja UL."
"Gorim," Belgarath replied with a respectful bow, "Yad ho, Groja UL." Then they crossed the marble causeway to join the Gorim. Belgarath and the old man clasped each other's arms warmly.
"It's been a few years, hasn't it?" the sorcerer said. "How are you bearing up?"
"I feel almost young." The Gorim smiled. "Now that Relg has found my successor. I can at last see the end of my task."
"Found?" Belgarath asked quizzically.
"It amounts to the same thing." The Gorim looked fondly at Relg. "We had our disagreements, didn't we, my son?" he said, "But as it turned out, we were all working toward the same end."
"It took me a little longer to realize it, Holy Gorim," Relg replied wryly. "I'm a bit more stubborn than most men. Sometimes I'm amazed that UL didn't lose patience with me. Please excuse me, but I must go to my wife and son. I've been many days away from them." He turned and went quickly back across the causeway.
Belgarath grinned. " A remarkably changed man."
"His wife is a marvel," the Gorim agreed.
"Are you sure that their child is the chosen one?"
The Gorim nodded. "UL has confirmed it. There were those who objected, since Taiba is a Marag rather than a daughter of Ulgo, but UL's voice silenced them."
"I'm sure it did. UL's voice is very penetrating, I've noticed. You wanted to see me?"
The Gorim's expression became grave. He gestured toward his pyramid-shaped house. "Let's go inside. There's a matter of urgency we need to discuss."
Rivan Codex Series Page 257
