Belgarath frowned. "What's she up to?"
"My point exactly. I'd guess that she's got a surprise in store for us somewhere."
"Keep your eyes open, then. I don't want her slipping up behind me."
"It might simplify things if she did."
"I doubt it. Nothing about this entire affair has been simple, and I don't expect things to change at this stage."
"I'll go scout ahead." The dwarf blurred and soared away.
They made their encampment that evening beside a spring that gushed out of an outcropping of moss-covered rock. Belgarath seemed moody and out of sorts, so the rest of them avoided him as they worked at tasks they had repeated so many times that they had become habitual.
"You're very quiet this evening," Garion said to Ce'Nedra as they sat by the fire after supper. "What's the matter?"
“I just don't feel like talking." The peculiar lethargy that had come over the little queen had not diminished as the day wore on, and she had actually found herself dozing in her saddle several times during the late afternoon.
"You look tired," he observed.
"I am, a bit. We've been traveling for a long time now. I think it might be starting to catch up with me."
"Why don't you go to bed then? You'll feel better after a good night's sleep."
She yawned and held out her arms to him. "Carry me," she said.
He looked startled. Ce'Nedra enjoyed startling her husband. His face always looked so wide-eyed and boyish. "Aren't you feeling well?" he asked.
"I'm fine, Garion. I'm just sleepy, and I want to be babied a bit. Carry me to the tent, put me to bed, and tuck me in."
"Well, if that's what you want . . ." He rose, picked her up easily, and carried her across the encampment to their tent.
"Garion," she murmured drowsily after he had gently drawn their blankets up around her shoulders.
"Yes, dear?"
“Please don't wear your mail shirt when you come to bed. It makes you smell like an old iron pot."
Ce'Nedra's sleep that night was disturbed by strange dreams. She seemed to see people and places she had not seen or even thought of in years. She saw legionnaires guarding her father's palace, and Lord Morin, her father's chamberlain, hurrying down a marble corridor. Then she seemed to be at Riva, holding a long, incomprehensible conversation with Brand, the Rivan Warder, while Brand's blond niece sat spinning flax by the window. Arell seemed unconcerned about the dagger hilt protruding from between her shoulder blades. Ce'Nedra stirred, muttering to herself, and immediately began to dream again.
She seemed then to be a Rheon in eastern Drasnia. Casually she plucked a dagger from the belt of Vella, the Nadrak dancer, and just as casually drove it to the hilt into the belly of black-bearded Ulfgar, the head of the Bear-cult. Ulfgar was speaking sneeringly to Belgarath as Ce'Nedra sank the knife into him, and he did not even pay any attention to her as she slowly twisted the blade in his vitals.
And then she was at Riva again, and she and Garion were sitting naked beside a sparkling forest pool while thousands of butterflies hovered over them.
She traveled in her restless dream to the ancient city of Val Alorn in Cherek, and then went on to Boktor for the funeral of King Rhodar. And once again she saw the battlefield at Thull Mardu, and once more the face of her self-appointed protector, Brand's son Olban.
There was no coherence to the dream. She seemed to go from place to place without effort, moving through time and space looking for something, although she could not remember what it was she had lost.
When she awoke the next morning, she was as tired as she had been the previous evening. Every movement was an effort, and she kept yawning.
""What's the matter?" Garion asked her as they dressed. "Didn't you sleep well?"
"Not really," she replied. "I kept having the strangest dreams."
"Do you want to talk about them? Sometimes that's the best way to put them to rest so they don't keep coming back night after night."
"They didn't make any sense, Garion. They just kept jumping around. It was almost as if someone were moving me from place to place for some reason of her own.”
"Her? Was this someone a woman?"
"Did I say 'her'? I can't imagine why. I never saw this person." Ce'Nedra yawned again. "I hope whoever it was got finished with it, though. I'd rather not go through another night like that." Then she gave him a sly, sidelong glance through her eyelashes. “There were some parts of the dream that were rather nice, though," she said. "Once we were sitting by that pool back at Riva. Do you want to know what we were doing?"
A slow blush crept up Garion's neck. "Uh, no, Ce'Nedra. I don't really think so."
But she told him anyway—in great detail—until he finally fled from the tent.
Her restless night increased the peculiar lassitude that had lain on her since they had left Kell, and she rode that morning in a half doze that, try though she might, she could not seem to shake off. Garion spoke with her several times to warn her that she was allowing her horse to stray, and then, apparently seeing that she just couldn't keep her eyes open, he took her reins from her hands and led her horse.
About midmorning, Beldin rejoined them. "I think you'd better take cover," he tersely told Belgarath. "There's a Darshivan patrol coming along this trail."
"Are they searching for us?"
"Who knows? If they are, they're not being very serious about it. Go back into the woods for a couple hundred yards and let them ride on by. I'll keep an eye on them and let you know when they've passed."
"All right." Belgarath turned aside from the trail and led the rest of them back into the concealment of the forest.
They dismounted and waited tensely. Soon they heard the jingling of the soldiers' equipment as they rode along the forest trail at a trot.
Even in this potentially dangerous situation, Ce'Nedra simply could not keep her eyes open. Dimly she could hear the whispered conversations of the others until she finally dozed oif again.
And then she came awake—or at least partially so. She was walking alone through the forest, her mind all bemused. She knew that she should be alarmed at being separated from the others, but oddly, she was not. She walked on, not so much going anywhere m particular as following some sort of subtle summoning.
Then at last she reached a grassy clearing and saw a tall blond girl standing among the wildftowers and holding a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. The girl's blond braids were coiled at her temples, and her complexion was like new milk. It was Brand's niece, Arell. "Good morning, your Majesty," she greeted the Queen of Riva. "I’ve been waiting for you."
Something deep in Ce'Nedra's mind tried to scream at her that this was wrong—that the tall Rivan girl could not possibly be here. But Ce'Nedra could not remember why, and the moment passed. "Good morning, Arell," she said to her dear friend. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"I came to help you, Ce'Nedra. Look at what I’ve found." She turned back the comer of the blanket to reveal a tiny face.
"My baby!" Ce'Nedra exclaimed, almost overcome with joy. She ran forward, her arms extended hungrily, and took the sleeping infant from her friend and held him to her body, her cheek pressed against his soft curls. "How did you possibly find him?" she asked Arell. "We’ve been looking for him for the longest time now."
"I was traveling alone through this forest," Arell replied, "and I thought I smelled the smoke of a campfire. I went to investigate and I found a tent set up beside a little stream. I looked inside the tent, and there was Prince Geran. There was no one else around, so I picked him up and came looking for you."
Ce'Nedra's mind was still trying to scream at her, but she was too deliriously happy to pay any attention. She held her baby, rocking back and forth and crooning to him.
"Where is King Belgarion?" Arell asked.
"Back there someplace." Ce'Nedra gestured vaguely.
"You should go to him and let him know that his son is safe."
"Yes. He'll
be very happy."
"I have something that I really have to attend to, Ce'Nedra," Arell said. "Do you think you'll be able to find your way back alone?"
"Oh, I'm sure I could, but couldn't you come along? His Majesty is sure to want to reward you for restoring our son to us."
Arell smiled. "The happiness on your face is all the reward I need, and this matter I must take care of is extremely important. I may be able to join you later, however. Which way will you be traveling?”
"South, I think," Ce'Nedra replied. "We have to get to the seacoast."
"Oh?"
"Yes. We're going to an island—Perivor, I think the name is."
"There's supposed to be a meeting of some kind very soon, isn't there? Is Perivor the place where it's going to happen?"
"Oh, no." Ce'Nedra laughed, still cuddling her baby. "We're just going to Perivor to get some more information about it. We'll be going on from there."
“ I may not be able to join you at Perivor,” Arell said, frowning slightly. "Perhaps you could tell me where the meeting's supposed to take place. I'm sure I'll be able to meet you there."
"Let me see," Ce'Nedra pondered. "What did they call it? Oh, now I remember. It's someplace that's called Korim."
"Korim?" Arell exclaimed in astonishment.
"Yes. Belgarath seemed dreadfully upset when he first found out about it, but Cyradis told him that everything would be all right. That's why we have to go to Perivor. Cyradis says that there's something there that will make everything clear. It seems to me that she said something about a chart or something.” She laughed a bit giddily. "To be honest with you, Arell, I’ve been so sleepy for the last few days that I can barely keep track of what the people around me are saying."
"Of course," Arell said absendy, her face creased in thought. “Why would Perivor be the key?” she mused to herself.”What could possibly be there to explain an absurdity? Are you absolutely certain the word was Korim? Perhaps you misunderstood."
"That was the way I heard it, Arell. I didn't read it for myself, but Belgarath and Beldin kept talking about 'the High Places of Korim, Which Are No More,' and isn't the meeting supposed to be at the Place Which Is No More? I mean, it does sort of fit together, doesn't it?"
"Yes," Arell replied, frowning strangely. "Now that I think about it, it does." Then she straightened, smoothing her gown. "I'll have to leave you now, Ce'Nedra," she said. "Take your baby back to your husband. Give him my regards." Her eyes seemed to glint in the sunlight. "Give my best to Polgara, as well," she added. There seemed to be something slightly malicious in the way she said it. She turned then and walked away, crossing the flowery meadow toward the dark edge of the forest.
"Good-bye, Arell," Ce'Nedra called after her, "and thank you so much for finding my baby."
Arell neither turned nor answered.
Garion was frantic. When he first discovered that his wife was missing, he leaped into his saddle and rode Chretienne off into the forest at a gallop. He had gone three hundred yards before Belgarath finally caught up with him. "Garion! Stop!" the old man shouted.
"But, Grandfather!" Garion shouted back. "I’ve got to find Ce'Nedra!"
"Where do you plan to start looking? Or are you just going to ride around in circles trusting to luck?"
"But—"
"Use your head, boy! We have another way that's much faster. You know what she smells like, don't you?"
"Of course, but—"
"Then we have to use our noses. Get down off that horse and send him back. We'll change form and follow her trail. It's faster and a great deal more certain."
Garion felt suddenly very foolish. "I wasn't thinking, I guess," he confessed.
"I didn't think you were. Get rid of that horse."
Garion slid down and slapped Chretienne sharply on the rump. The big gray bolted back toward where the others were still concealed. "What on earth was she thinking of?" Garion fumed.
"I'm not sure if she was," Belgarath grunted. "She's been acting strangely for the past few days. Let's get on with this. The quicker we find her, the quicker we can get her back to the others. Your aunt can get to the bottom of this." The old man was already blurring into the shape of the huge silver wolf. " You lead," he growled at Garion. "Her scent is more familiar to you." -
Garion changed and cast back and forth until his nose caught Ce'Nedra's familiar fragrance. "She went this way," he cast his thought to Belgarath.
"How fresh is the trail?" the old wolf asked.
“It can't be much more than a half hour old,” Garion replied, bunching himself to run.
"Good. Let's go find her." And the two of them ran smoothly through the woods, their noses to the ground in the manner of hunting wolves.
They found her after about a quarter of an hour. She was coming happily back through the forest, crooning softly to a bundle she was carrying tenderly in her arms.
"Don't startle her," Belgarath warned. "There's something very wrong here. Just go along with anything she telis you." The two of them shimmered and changed.
Ce'Nedra gave a little cry of delight when she saw them. "Oh, Garion!" she exclaimed, running toward them. "Look! Arell found our baby!”
"Arell? But Arell's—"
"Just let it lie!" Belgarath snapped under his breath. "Don't send her into hysterics!"
"Why—uh—that's wonderful, Ce'Nedra," Garion said, trying to make it sound natural.
"It's been so long," Ce'Nedra said, her eyes brimming with tears, "and he looks just the same as he did before. Look, Garion. Isn't he beautiful?"
She turned back the blanket, and Garion saw that what she was holding so tenderly was not a baby, but a bundle of rags.
PART TWO - PERIVOR
CHAPTER NINE
Eternal Salmissra had dispensed with the services of Adiss, her Chief Eunuch, that morning. Stunned into forgetful-ness by a massive dose of one of his favorite drugs, Adiss had shambled into the throne room to make his daily report. When he had come to within a dozen feet of the dais, Salmissra had detected from his rank odor that he had disobeyed her command that he never enter her presence unbathed. Cold-eyed, she had watched the eunuch prostrate himself on the marble floor before the throne to deliver his report in a slurred voice. The report had never been finished. At a sibilant command from the Serpent Queen, a small green snake had emerged from beneath the divanlike throne, purring quietly, and Adiss had received a suitable reward for his disobedience.
And now Eternal Salmissra coiled pensively on her throne idly contemplating her reflection in the mirror. The troublesome business of selecting a new Chief Eunuch still lay before her, and she was not really in the mood for it. She decided finally to forgo the chore for a time to give the palace eunuchs the opportunity to scramble for the position. That scramble usually resulted in a number of fatalities, and there were really too many eunuchs in the palace anyway.
From under the throne there was an irritated grumbling. Her pet green snake was obviously distressed about something. "What is it, Ezahh?" she asked him.
“Can't you have them washed before you ask me to bite them, Salmissra?" Ezahh replied plaintively. "You might have at least warned me what to expect." Although Ezahh and Salmissra were of different species, their languages were to some degree compatible.
"I'm sorry, Ezahh. It was inconsiderate of me, I suppose." In rather sharp contrast to her dealings with humans, whom she held more or less in general contempt, the Serpent Queen was unfailingly polite to other reptiles—particularly the venomous ones. This is considered the course of wisdom in the world of snakes.
"It was not entirely your fault, Salmissra." Ezahh was also a snake, and he was also very polite. "I just wish there was some way to get the taste out of my mouth.”
"I could send for a saucer of milk. That might help."
"Thank you, Salmissra, but the taste of him might curdle it. What I'd really like is a nice fat mouse—alive, preferably."
"I'll see to it at once, Ezahh." Sh
e turned her triangular face around on her slender neck. "You," she hissed to one of the chorus of eunuchs kneeling in adoration at one side of the throne, "go catch a mouse. My little green friend is hungry."
"At once, Divine Salmissra," the eunuch replied obsequiously. He jumped to his feet and backed toward the door, genuflecting at every other step.
"Thank you, Salmissra," Ezahh purred. "Humans are such trivial things, aren't they?"
"They respond only to fear," she agreed, "and to lust."
"That raises a point," Ezahh noted. "Have you had time to consider the request I made the other day?”
"I have some people looking," she assured him, "but your species is very rare, you know, and finding a female for you might take some time."
"I can wait, if necessary, Salrnissra," he purred. "We are all very patient." He paused. "I'm not trying to be offensive, but if you hadn't chased Sadi away, you wouldn't have to take the trouble. His little snake and I were on very good terms."
"I noticed that on occasion. You might even be a father by now."
The green snake slid his head out from under the throne and regarded her. Like all snakes of his kind, he had a bright-red stripe down his green back. "What's a father?" he asked in a dull, incurious tone.
"It's a difficult concept," she replied. "Humans make much of it for some reason.”
“Does any real creature care about the perverse peculiarities of humans?"
"I certainly don't—at least not anymore."
"You were always a serpent at heart, Salmissra."
"Why, thank you, Ezahh," she said in a pleased hiss. She paused, her restless coils rubbing dryly against each other. "I must select a new Chief Eunuch," she mused. "It's a bothersome thing."
"Why trouble yourself? Select one at random. Humans are all alike, after all."
"Most of them, yes. I've been attempting to locate Sadi, however. I'd like to persuade him to come back to Sthiss Tor."
"That one is different," Ezahh agreed. "One might almost believe that he is somewhat akin to us."
"He does have certain reptilian qualities, doesn't he? He's a thief and a scoundrel, but he still managed the palace better than anyone else has ever been able to. If I hadn't been molting when he fell into disgrace, I might have forgiven him."
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