"Not so far as I can tell. She seems fairly normal to me. About the only unusual thing I've noticed is that she never talks about Geran anymore."
"That could just be her way of protecting herself, Garion. She might not be able to put it into words exactly, but she's aware of the melancholia that came over her at Prolgu, and I'm sure that she realizes that if she gives in to it, she'll be incapacitated. She still thinks about Geran, l'm sure ‑probably most of the time‑ but she just won't talk about him." She paused again. "What about the physical side of your marriage?" she asked him directly.
Garion blushed furiously and coughed. "Uh ‑there really hasn't been much opportunity for that sort of thing, Aunt Pol‑ and I think she has too many other things on her mind."
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "It's not a good idea just to ignore that, Garion," she told him. "After a while, people grow apart if they don't periodically renew their intimacy."
He coughed again, still blushing. "She doesn't really seem very interested, Aunt Pol."
"That's your fault, dear. All it takes is a little bit of planning and attention to detail."
"You make it sound awfully calculated and cold-blooded."
"Spontaneity is very nice, dear, but there's a great deal of charm to a well‑planned seduction, too."
"Aunt Pol!" he gasped, shocked to the core.
"You're an adult, Garion dear," she reminded him, "and that's one of an adult man's responsibilities. Think about it. You can be quite resourceful at times. I'm sure you'll come up with something." She looked out over the sun‑washed lawns. "Shall we go back inside now?" she suggested. "I think it's almost lunch time."
That afternoon, Garion once again found himself strolling about the palace grounds, this time accompanied by Silk and Sadi the eunuch. "Belgarath needs a diversion," he told them seriously. "I think he has a plan to get us out of the city, but we've got to shake off all the spies who are watching us long enough for him to put it into motion." He was busily scratching at his nose as he spoke, his hand covering his mouth.
"Hay fever?" Silk asked him.
"No. Velvet told us that some of Brador's spies are deaf, but that they can tell what you're saying by watching your lips."
"What an extraordinary gift," Sadi murmured. "I wonder if an undeaf man could learn it."
"I can think of some times myself when it might have been useful," Silk agreed, covering his mouth as he feigned a cough. He looked at Sadi. "Can I get an honest answer out of you?" he asked.
"That depends on the question, Kheldar."
"You're aware of the secret language?"
"Of course."
"Do you understand it?"
"I'm afraid not. I've never met a Drasnian who trusted me enough to teach me."
"I wonder why." Sadi flashed him a quick grin.
"I think we can manage if we cover our mouths when we speak," Garion said.
"Won't that become a little obvious after a while?" Sadi objected.
"What are they going to do? Tell us to stop?"
"Probably not, but we might want to pass on some disinformation sometimes, and if they know that we know about this way of listening, we won't be able to do that." The eunuch sighed about the lost opportunity, then shrugged. "Oh, well," he said.
Garion looked at Silk. "Do you know of anything that's going on that we could use to pull the police off our trail?"
"No, not really," the little man replied. "At the moment the Melcene consortium seems to be concentrating on keeping this year's price list a secret and trying to persuade Vasca that Yarblek and I should be restrained to those enclaves on the west coast. We've got Vasca pretty much in our pockets, though ‑as long as he stays bribed. There's a great deal of secret maneuvering going on, but I don't think anything is close to coming to a head right now. Even if it did, it probably wouldn't cause a big enough stink to make the secret police abandon their assignment to watch us."
"Why not go right to the top?" Sadi suggested. "I could talk to Brador and see if he's susceptible to bribery."
"I don't think so, Garion said. "He's having us watched on specific orders from Zakath. I doubt that any amount of money would make him consider risking his head."
"There are other ways to bribe people, Belgarion." Sadi smiled slyly. "I have some things in my case that make people feel very good. The only trouble with them is that after you've used them a few times, you have to keep on using them. The pain of stopping is really quite unbearable. I could own Brador within the space of a week and make him do anything I told him to do."
Garion felt a sudden surge of profound distaste for the entire notion. "I'd really rather not do that," he said, "or only as a last resort."
"You Alorns have a peculiar notion of morality," the eunuch said, rubbing at his shaved scalp. "You chop people in two without turning a hair, but you get queasy at the idea of poisons or drugs."
"It's a cultural thing, Sadi," Silk told him.
"Have you found anything else that might work to our advantage?" Garion asked.
Sadi considered it. "Not by itself, no," he replied. "A bureaucracy lends itself to endemic corruption, though. There are a number of people in Mallorea who take advantage of that. Caravans have a habit of getting waylaid in the Dalasian Mountains or on the road from Maga Renn. A caravan needs a permit from the Bureau of Commerce, and Vasca has been known on occasion to sell information about departure times and routes to certain robber chiefs. Or, if the price is right, he sells his silence to the merchant barons in Melcene." The eunuch chuckled. "Once he sold information about one single caravan to three separate robber bands. There was a pitched battle on the plains of Delchin, or so I'm told."
Garion's eyes narrowed in thought. "I'm beginning to get the feeling that we might want to concentrate our attention on this Baron Vasca," he said. "Velvet told us that he's also trying to take the Bureau of Military Procurement away from the army."
"I didn't know that," Silk said with some surprise. "Little Liselle is developing quite rapidly, isn't she?"
"It's the dimples, Prince Kheldar," Sadi said. "I'm almost totally immune to any kind of feminine blandishment, but I have to admit that when she smiles at me, my knees turn to butter. She's absolutely adorable ‑and totally unscrupulous, of course."
Silk nodded. "Yes," he said. "We're moderately proud of her."
"Why don't you two go look her up?" Garion suggested. "Pool your information about this highly corruptible Baron Vasca. Maybe we can stir something up‑ something noisy. Open fighting in the halls of the palace might just be the sort of thing we need to cover our escape."
"You have a genuine flair for politics, Belgarion," Sadi said admiringly.
"I'm a quick learner," Garion admitted, "and, of course, I keep company with some very disreputable men."
"Thank you, your Majesty." the eunuch replied with mock appreciation.
Shortly after supper, Garion walked through the halls of the palace for his customary evening conversation with Zakath. As always, a soft‑footed secret policeman trailed along some distance behind.
Zakath's mood that evening was pensive ‑almost approaching the bleak, icy melancholy that had marked him back in Rak Hagga.
"Bad day?" Garion asked him, removing a sleeping kitten footstool in front of his chair. Then he leaned back and set his feet on the stool.
Zakath made a sour face. "I've been whittling away at all the work that piled up while I was in Cthol Murgos," he said. "The problem is that now that I'm back, the pile just keeps getting higher."
"I know the feeling," Garion agreed. "When I get back to Riva, it's probably going to take me a year to clear my desk. Are you open to a suggestion?"
"Suggest away, Garion. Right now, I'll listen to anything." He looked reprovingly at the black and white kitten who was biting his knuckles again. "Not so hard," he murmured, tapping the ferocious little beast on the nose with his forefinger. The kitten laid back its ears and growled a squeaky little growl at him.
"I'm not try
ing to be offensive or anything," Garion began cautiously, "but I think you're making the same mistake that Urgit made."
"That's an interesting observation. Go on."
"It seems to me that you need to reorganize your government."
Zakath blinked. "Now, that is a major proposal," he said. "I don't get the connection, though. Urgit was a hopeless incompetent ‑at least he was before you came along and taught him the fundamentals of ruling. What is this mistake that he and I have in common?"
"Urgit's a coward," Garion said, "and probably always will be. You're not a coward ‑sometimes a bit crazy, maybe, but never a coward. The problem is that you're both making the same mistake. You're trying to make all the decisions yourselves ‑even the little ones. Even if you stop sleeping altogether, you won't find enough hours in the day to do that."
"So I've noticed. What's the solution?"
"Delegate responsibility. Your Bureau Chiefs and generals are competent ‑corrupt, I'll grant you, but they know their jobs. Tell them to take care of things and only bring you the major decisions. And tell them that if anything goes wrong, you'll replace them."
"That's not the Angarak way, Garion. The ruler ‑or Emperor, in this case ‑has always made all decisions. It's been that way since before the cracking of the world.
Torak made every decision in antiquity, and the Emperors of Mallorea have followed that example ‑no matter what we may have felt about him personally."
"Urgit made the exact same mistake," Garion told him. "What you're both forgetting is that Torak was a God, and his mind and will were unlimited. Human beings can't possibly hope to imitate that sort of thing."
"None of my Bureau Chiefs or generals could be trusted with that kind of authority," Zakath said, shaking his head. "They're almost out of control as it is."
"They'll learn the limits," Garion assured him. "After a few of them have been demoted or dismissed, the rest will get the idea."
Zakath smiled bleakly. "That is also not the Angarak way, Garion. When I make an example of someone, it usually involves the headsman's block."
"That's an internal matter, of course," Garion admitted, "You know your people better than I do, but if a man has talent, you can't really call on him again if you've removed his head, can you? Don't waste talent, Zakath. It's too hard to come by."
"You know something?" Zakath said with a slightly amused look. "They call me the man of ice, but in spite of your mild‑seeming behavior, you're even more cold-blooded than I am. You're the most practical man I've ever met."
"I was raised in Sendaria, Zakath," Garion reminded him. "Practicality is a religion there. I learned to run a kingdom from a man named Faldor. A kingdom is very much like a farm, really. Seriously, though, the major goal of any ruler is to keep things from flying apart, and gifted subordinates are too valuable a resource to waste. I've had to reprimand a few people, but that's as far as it ever went. That way they were still around in case I needed them. You might want to think about that a little bit."
"I'll consider it." Zakath straightened. "By the way," he said, "speaking of corruption in government‑"
"Oh? Were we speaking about that?"
"We're about to. My Bureau Chiefs are all more or less dishonest, but your three friends are adding levels of sophistication to the petty scheming and deceit here in the palace that we're not really prepared to cope with. "
"Oh?"
"The lovely Margravine Liselle has actually managed to persuade the King of Pallia and the Prince Regent of Delchin that she's going to intercede with you in their behalf. Each of them is absolutely convinced that their long‑term squabble is about to come out into the open. I don't want them to declare war on each other. I've got trouble in Karanda already."
"I'll have a word with her," Garion promised.
"And Prince Kheldar virtually owns whole floors of the Bureau of Commerce. He's getting more information out of there than I am. The merchants in Melcene gather every year to set prices for just about everything that's sold in Mallorea. It's the most closely guarded secret in the empire, and Kheldar just bought it. He's deliberately undercutting those prices, and he's disrupting our whole economy."
Garion frowned. "He didn't mention that."
"I don't mind his making a reasonable profit ‑as long as he pays his taxes‑ but I can't really have him gaining absolute control over all commerce in Mallorea, can I? He is an Alorn, after all, and his political loyalties are a little obscure."
"I'll suggest that he moderate his practices a bit. You have to understand Silk, though. I don't believe he even cares about the money. All he's interested in is the game."
"It's still Sadi who concerns me the most, though."
"Oh?"
"He's become rather intensely involved in agriculture."
"'Sadi?"
"There's a certain plant that grows wild in the marshes of Camat. Sadi's paying a great deal for it, and one of our prominent bandit chiefs has put all of his men to work harvesting it ‑and protecting the crop, of course. There have already been some pitched battles up there, I understand."
"A bandit who's harvesting crops is too busy to be robbing travelers on the highways, though," Garion pointed out.
"That's not exactly the point, Garion. I didn't mind so much when Sadi was making a few officials feel good and act foolish, but he's importing this plant into the city by the wagon load and spreading it around through the work force ‑and the army. I don't care for the idea at all."
"I'll see what I can do to get him to suspend operations, " Garion agreed. Then he looked at the Mallorean Emperor through narrowed eyes. "You do realize, though, that if I rein the three of them in, they'll just switch over to something new ‑and probably just as disruptive. Wouldn't it be better if I just took them out of Mal Zeth entirely?"
Zakath smiled. "Nice try, Garion," he said, "but I don't think so. I think we'll just wait until my army gets back from Cthol Murgos. Then we can all ride out of Mal Zeth together."
"You are the most stubborn man I've ever met," Garion said with some heat. "Can't you get it through your head that time is slipping away from us? This delay could be disastrous ‑not only for you and me, but for the whole world."
"The fabled meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark again? I'm sorry, Garion, but Zandramas is just going to have to wait for you. I don't want you and Belgarath roaming at will through my empire. I like you, Garion, but I don't altogether trust you."
Garion's temper began to heat up. He thrust his jaw out pugnaciously as he rose to his feet. "My patience is starting to wear a little thin, Zakath. I've tried to keep things between us more or less civil, but there is a limit, and we're getting rather close to it. I am not going to lie around your palace for three months."
"That's where you're wrong," Zakath snapped, also rising to his feet and unceremoniously dumping the surprised kitten to the floor.
Garion ground his teeth together, trying to get his temper under control. "Up to now, I've been polite, but I'd like to remind you about what happened back at Rak Hagga. We can leave here any time we want to, you know,"
"And the minute you do, you're going to have three of my regiments right on your heels." Zakath was shouting now.
"Not for very long," Garion replied ominously.
"What are you going to do?" Zakath demanded scornfully. "Turn all my troops into toads or something? No, Garion, I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't do that."
Garion straightened. "You're right," he said, "I wouldn't, but I was thinking of something a bit more elemental. Torak used the Orb to crack the world, remember? I know how it was done and I could do it myself if I had to. Your troops are going to have a great deal of trouble following us if they suddenly run into a trench ‑ten miles deep and fifty miles wide‑ stretching all the way across the middle of Mallorea."
"You wouldn't!" Zakath gasped.
"Try me," With a tremendous effort, Garion brought his anger under control. "I thin
k perhaps it's time for us to break this off," he said. "We're starting to shout threats at each other like a pair of schoolboys. Why don't we continue this conversation some other time, after we've both had a chance to cool off a bit?" He could see a hot retort hovering on Zakath's lips, but then the Emperor also drew himself up and regained his composure, though his face was still pale with anger.
"I think perhaps you're right," he said.
Garion nodded curtly and started toward the door.
"Garion," Zakath said then.
"Yes?"
"Sleep well."
"You too." Garion left the room.
Her Imperial Highness, the Princess Ce'Nedra, Queen of Riva and beloved of Belgarion, Overlord of the West, was feeling pecky. "Pecky" was not a word that her Imperial Highness would normally have used to describe her mood. "Disconsolate" or "out of sorts" might have had a more aristocratic ring, but Ce'Nedra was honest enough with herself privately to admit that "pecky" probably came closer to the mark. She moved irritably from room to room in the luxurious apartment Zakath had provided for her and Garion with the hem of her favorite teal green dressing gown trailing along behind her bare feet. She suddenly wished that breaking a few dishes wouldn't appear quite so unladylike.
A chair got in her way. She almost kicked it, but remembered at the last instant that she was not wearing shoes. Instead she deliberately took the cushion from the chair and set it on the floor. She plumped it a few times, then straightened. She lifted the hem of her dressing gown to her knees, squinted, swung her leg a few times for practice, and then kicked the cushion completely across the room. "There!" she said. "Take that!" For some reason it made her feel a little better.
Garion was away from their rooms at the moment, engaged in his customary evening conversation with Emperor Zakath. Ce'Nedra wished that he were here so that she could pick a fight with him. A nice little fight right now might modify her mood.
She went through a door and looked at the steaming tub sunk in the floor. Perhaps a bath might help. She even went so far as to dip an exploratory toe in the water, then decided against it. She sighed and moved on. She paused for a few moments at the window of the unlighted sitting room that overlooked the verdant atrium at the center of the east wing of the palace. The full moon had risen early that day and stood high in the sky, filling the atrium with its pale, colorless light, and the pool at the center of the private little court reflected back the perfect white circle of the queen of the night. Ce'Nedra stood for quite some time, looking out the window, lost in thought.
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