"Nobility is an alien concept to a Drasnian, I suppose," she noted.
"Not alien, Ce'Nedra. Incomprehensible."
"Perhaps in two thousand years they've changed," Durnik said hopefully.
"I wouldn't count on it," Beldin grunted. "In my experience, people who live in isolation tend to petrify."
"I needs must warn ye all of one thing, however," Cyradis said. "The people of this island are a peculiar mixture. In many ways they are even as you have described them, but their heritage is also Dal, and they are conversant with the arts of our people.”
"Oh, fine," Silk said sardonically, "Mimbrates who use sorcery. That's assuming they can figure out which way to point it."
"Cyradis," Garion said, "is this why Zakath and I are wearing armor?"
She nodded.
“Why didn't you just say so?”
"It was necessary for you to find that out for yourselves."
"Well, let's go have a look," Belgarath said. "We've dealt with Mimbrates before, and we've usually managed to stay out of trouble."
They rode on through the forest in golden afternoon sunshine and, when they reached the edge of the trees, they saw the structure Beldin had reported. It stood atop a high promontory, and it had the usual battlements and fortifications.
"Formidabie," Zakath murmured.
“There's no real point in lurking here in the trees,” Belgarath told them. "We can't get across all that open ground without being seen. Garion, you and Zakath take the lead. Men in armor are usually greeted with some courtesy."
"Are we just going to ride up to the castle?" Silk asked.
"We might as well," Belgarath said. "If they still think like Mimbrates, they'll almost be obliged to offer hospitality for the night, and we need a certain amount of information anyway.”
They rode out onto an open meadow and proceeded at a walk toward the grim-looking castle. "You'd better let me do most of the talking when we get there," Garion said to Zakath. "I sort of know the dialect.”
"Good idea," Zakath agreed. "I'd probably choke on all the theesand thous."
From inside the castle a horn blew a brazen note, announcing that they had been seen, and a few minutes later a dozen gleaming knights rode out across the drawbridge at a rolling trot. Garion moved Chretienne slightly to the front.
"Prithee, abate thy pace, Sir Knight," the man who appeared to be the leader of the strangers said. "I am Sir Astellig, baron of this place. May I ask of thee thy name and what it is that brings thee and thy companions to the gates of my keep?"
"My name I may not reveal, Sir Knight," Garion replied. "There are certain reasons, which I will disclose unto thee in due course. My fellow knight and I are embarked with these diverse companions on a quest of gravest urgency, and we have come here in search of shelter for the night, which shall descend upon us, methinks, within the next few hours." Garion was rather proud of the speech.
"Thou needst but ask, Sir Knight," the baron said, "for all true knights are compelled by honor, if not by courtesy, to offer aid and shelter to any fellow knight engaged in a quest.”
"I cannot sufficiently express our gratitude to thee, Sir Astellig. We have, as thou canst see, ladies of quality with us whom the rigors of our journey have sorely fatigued."
"Let us proceed straightaway to my keep then, Sir Knights.
Attending to the well-being of ladies is the paramount duty of all men of gentle birth." He wheeled his horse with a grand flourish and led the way up the long hill to his castle with his men close behind him.
"Elegant," Zakath commented admiringly.
"I spent some time at Vo Mimbre," Garion told him. "You can pick up their speech after a while. About the only problem with it is that the sentences are so involved that you sometimes lose track of what you're saying before you get to the bottom end of it."
Baron Astellig led the way across the drawbridge, and they all dismounted in a flagstoned courtyard. “My servants will see thee and thy companions to suitable quarters, Sir Knight," he said, "where you may all refresh yourselves. Then, an it please you, join me in the great hall and disclose unto me how I may aid thee in thy noble quest."
"Thy courtesy is most seemly, my Lord," Garion said. "Be assured that my brother knight and I will join you straightaway, as soon as we have seen to the comfort of the ladies."
They followed one of the baron's servants to comfortable quarters on the second floor of the main keep.
"I'm truly amazed at you, Garion," Polgara said. "I didn't mink you had the faintest idea of how to speak a civilized language."
"Thank you," he said, "I think."
"Maybe you and Zakath should speak with the baron alone," Belgarath told Garion. “You've covered your own need for anonymity fairly well, but if the rest of us are around, he might start asking for introductions. Feel him out rather carefully. Inquire about local customs, that sort of thing, and ask him about any incidental wars going on." He looked at Zakath. "What's the capital of the island?"
"Dal Perivor, I think."
"That's where we'll want to go then. Where is it?"
"On the other side of the island."
"Naturally." Silk sighed.
"You'd better get started," Belgarath told the two armored men. "Don't keep our host waiting."
"When this is all over, would you consider hiring him out to me?" Zakath asked Garion as the two of them clanked down the hall. "You could make a tidy profit, you know, and I'd have the most efficient government in the world."
"Do you really want a man who's likely to live forever running your government?” Garion asked in an amused tone.”Not to mention the feet that he's probably more corrupt than Silk and Sadi put together? That is a very bad old man, Kal Zakath. He's wiser than whole generations, and he's got a large number of disgusting habits.”
"He's your grandfather, Garion," Zakath protested. "How can you talk about him like that?"
"Truth is truth, your Majesty."
"You Alorns are a very strange people, my friend."
"We've never tried to hide that, my friend."
There was a clicking of toenails from behind, and the she-wolf slipped up between them. "One wonders where you are bound," she said to Garion.
"One and one's friend go to speak with the master of this house, little sister," he replied.
"One will accompany you and your friend," she said. "If needful, one may help to prevent missteps."
"What did she say?" Zakath asked.
"She's coming along to keep us from making any serious mistakes," Garion said.
"A wolf?"
"This is no ordinary wolf, Zakath. I'm beginning to have some suspicions about her.”
"One is gratified that even a puppy may show some semblance of perception." The wolf sniffed.
"Thank you," he said. "One is happy to gain approval from one so dearly loved."
She wagged her tail at him. "One requests, however, that you keep your discovery to yourself."
"Of course," he promised.
"What was that all about?" Zakath asked.
"It's a wolfy sort of thing," Garion said. "It doesn't really translate."
Baron Astellig had removed his armor and sat in a massive chair before a crackling hearth. "It is ever thus, Sir Knights," he said. "Stone doth provide protection from foes, but it is forever cold, and the chill of winter is slow to seep away from its obdurate surface. Perforce we are required to maintain our fires even when summer doth bathe our isle with its gentle warmth."
"It is, my Lord, as thou sayest," Garion replied. "E'en the massive walls of Vo Mimbre do harbor this oppressive chill."
"And thou, Sir Knight, hath seen Vo Mimbre?" the baron
asked in wonder. "I would give all that I own or ever will to behold that fabled city. What is it truly like?"
"Large, my Lord," Garion said, "and its golden stones do flash back the light of the sun as if to shame the heavens by its magnificence."
The baron's eyes filled with tea
rs. "BlessedamI, Sir Knight," he said in a voice choked with emotion. "This unexpected encounter with a knight of noble purpose and passing fair eloquence hath been the crown of my life, for the memory of Vo Mimbre, echoing down through the endless progression of years, hath sustained those of us in lonely exile here, though its echoes grow more remote with each passing season e'en as dearly loved faces of those gone before us are remembered only in a dream that fades and dies as cruel eld creepeth upon us."
"My Lord," Zakath said a bit haltingly, "thy speech hath touched my heart. If I have power—and I do—I will convey thee at some future date even unto Vo Mimbre and present thee before the throne in the palace there, that we may reunite thee with thy kindred."
"You see," Garion murmured to his friend, "it gets to be habit-forming."
The baron wiped his eyes unashamed. "I note this hound of thine, Sir Knight," he said to Garion to ease them past an embarrassing moment, "a bitch, I perceive—"
"Steady," Garion said firmly to the she-wolf.
"That is a very offensive term," she growled.
"He didn't invent it. It's not his fault."
"She is of a lean and lithesome configuration," the baron continued, "and her golden eyes do bespeak intelligence far beyond that of the poor mongrels that do infest this kingdom. Canst thou perhaps, Sir Knight, identify her breed?"
"She is a wolf, my Lord," Garion told him.
"A wolf! " the baron exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "We must flee ere the fearsome beast fall upon us and devour us."
It was a bit ostentatious, but sometimes things like that impress people. Garion reached down and scratched the wolf's ears.
"Thou art brave beyond belief, Sir Knight," the baron said almost in wonder.
"She is my friend, my Lord," Garion replied. "We are linked by ties beyond thine imagining."
"One advises that you stop that," the wolf told him, "unless you have a paw to spare."
"You wouldn't!" he exclaimed, snatching his hand back.
"But you're not entirely sure, are you?" She bared her teeth almost in a grin.
"Thou speakest the language of beasts?" The baron gasped.
"Of a few, my Lord," Garion said. "They each have their own, thou knowest. I have not yet mastered the speech of the serpent. I think it has to do with the shape of my tongue."
The baron suddenly laughed. "Thou art a droll man, Sir Knight. Thou hast presented me here with much to ponder and much at which to marvel. Now, to the main point. What canst thou reveal to me of thy quest?"
"Be very careful here," the wolf warned Garion.
Garion considered. "As thou mayest know, my Lord," he began, "there is a great evil abroad in the world now." That was fairly safe. There was always a great evil abroad in the world.
"Truly," the baron agreed fervently.
"It is the sworn task of my steadfast companion here and myself to confront this evil. Know thou, however, mat rumor, like a barking dog, would run before us, announcing—should they be known—our identities to the foul miscreant upon whom we mean to do war. Should, all forewarned, this vicious enemy learn of our approach, its minions would waylay us. Thus it is that we must conceal ourselves behind our visors and refrain from declaring before all the world our names—which have some smirch of honor upon them in diverse parts of the world.” Gar-ion was beginning to enjoy this. "We, neither one, fear any living thing.” Mandorallen himself could not have said it more confidently. "We have, however, dear companions in this quest, whose lives we dare not endanger. Moreover, our quest is fraught with perilous enchantments that may even vaunt our prowess. Thus, though it is distasteful, we must, with thieftike stealth, approach this despised miscreant that we may administer suitable chastisement." He said the last word with something as close to the crack of doom as he could manage.
The baron got the point immediately. "My sword, and those of my knights, are at thine immediate disposal, my Lord. Let us eradicate this evil for good and all." The baron was a Mim-brate to the bone, all right.
Garion raised one regretful hand. "Nay, my Lord of Astel-lig," he said. "It may not be so, though I would welcome thee and thy brave companions with all my heart. This task hath been lain upon me and upon my dear companions. To accept thine
aid in this endeavor would be to anger the minions of the spirit world, which, no less than we, do contend in mis matter. We— all of us—are but mortal, and the spirit world is a world of immortals. To defy the commands of die spirits might well confound the purpose of those friendly spirits that take our part in this ultimate battle."
"Though it wounds my heart, Sir Knight," the baron said sadly, "I must agree that thine argument hath cogency. Know, moreover, that a kinsman of mine hath but recently arrived from the capital at Dal Perivor and hath advised me privately of a disturbing turn of events at court. No more than a few days ago, a wizard appeared at the king's palace. Doubtless using enchantments such as thou hast mentioned, he beguiled our king within the space of a few hours and gained the king's ear and is now his closest advisor. He now doth wield almost absolute authority in the kingdom. Guard yourselves well, Sir Knights. Should, perchance, this wizard be one of the minions of your foe, he now hath power to do thee gravest injury." The baron made a wry face. "Methinks the beguiling of the king was no serious task for him. It is improper of me to say it, perhaps, but his Majesty is not a man of profound intellectual gifts." This from aMimbrate*? "This wizard," the baron continued, "isawicked man, and I must advise thee in the spirit of true comradeship to avoid him."
"I thank thee, my Lord," Garion said, "but our destiny, and that of our quest, compels us to Dal Perivor. If needs be, we will confront this wizard and rid the kingdom of his influence."
"May the Gods and the spirits guide thy hand," the baron said fervently. Then he grinned. "Mayhap, an it please thee, I might watch as thou and thy valiant, laconic companion administer such chastisement as thou seest fit."
"We would be honored, my Lord," Zakath assured him.
"With that end in view then, my Lords, "the baron said, "be advised that I and diverse nobles journey on the morrow toward the king's palace at Dal Perivor, there to participate in the grand tourney that our Lord King hath ordained to select champions of the kingdom to deal with a certain recurrent problem which hath confronted us. Know, moreover, that by centuries-old tradition, misunderstandings and frictions are held in the abeyance of general truce during this period and we may expect general tranquility on our journey to the west. An it please you, my Lords, may I entreat you to accompany me to the capital?"
"My Lord," Garion said, bowing with a slight creaking of annor, "your suggestion and gracious invitation could not suit our purposes more. And now, if we may, we will retire to make our preparations.”
As Garion and Zakath strode down the long hall, the wolf's toenails had an almost metallic ring to them. "One is pleased," she said. "You didn't do all that badly—for a couple of puppies."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Perivor proved to be a pleasant island with rolling, emerald-green hills where sheep grazed and with dark plowed fields where meticulously straight rows of crops flourished. Baron Astellig looked about with some pride. " It is a fair land,” he observed, "though doubtless not so fair as far-off Arendia."
"Methinks thou wouldst be somewhat disappointed by Arendia, my Lord," Garion told him. "Though the land be fair, the kingdom is much marred by civil turmoil and by the misery of the serfs."
"Doth that sad institution still prevail there? It was abolished here many centuries ago."
Garion was a bit surprised at that.
"The folk who inhabited this isle ere we came are a gentle people, and our forebears sought wives from among them. At first these common folk were bound in serfdom, as had always been the practice in Arendia, but our ancestors soon perceived that this was the grossest injustice, since the serfs were kinsmen by marriage." The baron frowned slightly. "Doth this civil discord thou spake of truly mar our ancestral homeland to any g
reat extent?"
Garion sighed. "We have some smalt expectation that it may abate, my Lord. Three great duchies warred with each other for centuries until one—Mimbre—finally achieved nominal mastery. Rebellion lurked ever beneath the surface, however. Moreover, the barons of southern Arendia make bloody war upon each other for the most trivial of reasons.”
"War? Truly? Such affairs arise here on Perivor, as well, but we have attempted to formalize the conflict to such degree that few are ever slain."
"How meanst thou 'formalize,' my Lord?"
"Such disputes as arise are—except in cases of outrage or gravest insult—customarily settled by tourneys." The baron smiled. "Indeed, I have known of a number of disputes that were counterfeited by the mutual contrivance of the principals merely as an excuse to hold such tourneys—which do-entertain nobles and commons alike."
"How very civilized, my Lord," Zakath said.
The strain of phrasing such involuted sentences was beginning to wear on Garion. He asked the baron to excuse him, pleading the need to confer with his companions, and rode back to talk with Belgarath and the others.
“How are you and the baron getting along?” Silk asked him.
"Quite well, actually. The intermarriage with the Dais has altered certain of the more irritating Arendish tendencies."
"Such as?"
"Gross stupidity for one thing. They've abolished serfdom, and they usually settle disputes with tournaments rather than open war." Garion looked at the dozing Belgarath. "Grandfather."
Belgarath opened his eyes.
"Do you think weVe managed to get here ahead of Zandra-mas?"
"There's no way to know for sure."
"I could use the Orb again."
"It's probably better if you don't just yet. If she's on the island, there's no way to know where she landed. She may not have come this way, so the Orb wouldn't react to her trail. I'm sure she can feel it, though, and about all we'd succeed in doing
would be to let her know we're here. Besides, the Sardion is in mis part of the world. Let's not wake it up just yet.”
"You might ask your friend the baron," Silk suggested. "If she's here, he might have heard something about her."
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