The Seeress of Kell

  ‘Oh? What decision is that?’

  ‘You know my views on marriage, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You’ve spoken on the subject many, many times.’

  Silk sighed. ‘All that to the contrary, I think I’m going to have to make up my mind about Liselle.’

  ‘I wondered how long that would take you.’

  ‘You knew?’ Silk looked surprised.

  ‘Everybody knew, Silk. She set out to get you, and she did exactly that.’

  ‘That’s depressing – to get trapped finally when I’m in my dotage.’

  ‘I’d hardly say you’re that far gone.’

  ‘I must be to even be considering something like this,’ Silk said moodily. ‘Liselle and I could continue to go on the way we have been, I suppose, but sneaking down hallways to her bedroom in the middle of the night seems a little disrespectful for some reason, and I’m too fond of her for that.’

  ‘Fond?’

  ‘All right then,’ Silk snapped. ‘I’m in love with her. Does it make you feel better to have me come right out and say it?’

  ‘I just wanted to get it clear, that’s all. Is this the first time you’ve admitted it – even to yourself?’

  ‘I’ve been trying to avoid that. Do you suppose we could talk about something else?’ He looked around. ‘I wish he’d go find another piece of air to fly in,’ he said in a grouchy tone of voice.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That blasted albatross. He’s back again.’ Silk pointed. Garion turned and saw the white sea-bird with its enormous wings on station once more just ahead of the bow-sprit. The cloud bank to the west had grown more and more purple as the morning had progressed, and against that backdrop the snowy bird seemed almost to glow with an unearthly incandescence.

  ‘That’s very strange,’ Garion said.

  ‘I just wish I knew what he was up to,’ Silk said. ‘I’m going below. I don’t want to look at him any more.’ He took Garion’s hand in his. ‘We’ve had fun,’ he said gruffly. ‘Take care of yourself.’

  ‘You don’t have to leave.’

  ‘I have to make room for all the others waiting in line to see you, your Majesty,’ Silk grinned. ‘I think you’re in for a depressing day. I’m going to go find out if Beldin’s found an ale barrel yet.’ With a jaunty wave, the little man turned and went to the stairway leading below.

  Silk’s prediction proved to be all too accurate. One by one, Garion’s friends came up on deck to take leave of him, each firmly conviced that he would be the one to die. All in all, it was a very gloomy day.

  It was almost twilight when the last of the self-composed epitaphs had been completed. Garion leaned on the rail, looking back at the phosphorescent wake glowing behind their ship.

  ‘Bad day, I take it?’ It was Silk again.

  ‘Dreadful. Did Beldin find any ale?’

  ‘I don’t recommend any of that for you. You’ll need your wits about you tomorrow. I just came up to make sure that all the gloom your friends have been piling on you doesn’t make you start thinking about drowning yourself.’ Silk frowned. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.

  ‘What’s what?’

  ‘That booming noise.’ He looked toward the bow. ‘There it is,’ he said tensely.

  The purple sky had turned almost black with the onset of evening, a black pierced here and there with patches of angry red, the light of the setting sun glowing through the clouds. There was a rusty-colored blur low on the horizon, a blur that seemed to be wearing a white necklace of frothy surf.

  Captain Kresca came forward with the rolling walk of a man who spends little time ashore. ‘That’s it, good masters,’ he told them. ‘That’s the reef.’

  Garion stared out at the Place Which is No More, his thoughts and emotions stumbling over each other.

  And then the albatross gave a strange cry, a cry that seemed almost triumphant. The great pearly white bird dipped its pinions once, then continued toward Korim on seemingly motionless wings.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  OSKATAT THE SENESCHAL moved with a certain deliberate speed through the corridors of the Drojim Palace toward the throne room of Urgit, high King of Cthol Murgos. Oskatat’s scarred face was bleak, and his mind was troubled. He stopped before the closely guarded door to the throne room. ‘I will speak with his Majesty,’ he declared.

  The guards hastily opened the door for him. Although by mutual agreement between himself and King Urgit, Oskatat still bore only the title of Seneschal, the guards, like everyone else in the palace, recognized the fact that he was second only to the king himself in authority in Cthol Murgos.

  He found his rat-faced monarch engaged in light conversation with Queen Prala and Queen Mother Tamazin, Oskatat’s own wife. ‘Ah, there you are, Oskatat,’ Urgit said. ‘Now my little family is complete. We’ve been discussing some extensive remodeling of the Drojim Palace. All these jewels and the tons of gold on the ceilings are in terribly bad taste, wouldn’t you say? Besides, I need the money I’ll be able to get for all that trash for the war effort.’

  ‘Something important has come up, Urgit,’ Oskatat told his king. By royal command, Oskatat always called his king by his first name in private conversations.

  ‘That’s depressing,’ Urgit said, sprawling deeper into the cushions on his throne. Taur Urgas, Urgit’s supposed father, had scornfully rejected such comforts as cushions, preferring to set an example of Murgo hardihood by sitting for hours on cold stone. About all that brainless gesture had gained the mad king had been a fistula which added quite noticeably in the later years of his life to his irritability.

  ‘Sit up straight, Urgit,’ Lady Tamazin, the king’s mother, said absently.

  ‘Yes, mother,’ Urgit replied, straightening slightly on his throne. ‘Go ahead, Oskatat,’ he said, ‘but please drop it on me gently. Lately I’ve noticed that “important things” usually turn out to be disasters.’

  ‘I’ve been in contact with Jaharb, Chief Elder of the Dagashi,’ Oskatat reported. ‘At my request, he’s been trying to pinpoint the location of Agachak the Hierarch. We’ve finally found him – or at least found the port he sailed from when he left Cthol Murgos.’

  ‘Astonishing,’ Urgit said with a broad grin. ‘For once you’ve actually brought me some good news. So Agachak has left Cthol Murgos. We can hope that it’s his intention to sail off the edge of the world. I’m glad you told me about this, Oskatat. I’ll sleep much better now that that walking corpse no longer contaminates what’s left of my kingdom. Were Jaharb’s spies able to find out his intended destination?’

  ‘He’s bound for Mallorea, Urgit. Judging from his actions, he appears to believe that the Sardion is there. He went to Thull Mardu and pressured King Nathel into accompanying him.’

  Urgit suddenly laughed uproariously. ‘He actually did it!’ he exclaimed with delight.

  ‘I don’t quite follow you.’

  ‘I suggested to him once that he take Nathel instead of me when he went after the Sardion. Now he’s saddled himself with that cretin. I’d give a great deal to listen to some of their conversations. If he happens to succeed, he’ll make Nathel Overking of Angarak, and Nathel can’t even tie his own shoes.’

  ‘You don’t actually think Agachak will succeed, do you?’ Queen Prala said, a slight frown creasing her flawless brow. Queen Prala was several months gone with child, and she’d taken to worrying about things lately.

  ‘Win?’ Urgit snorted. ‘He hasn’t got a chance. He has to get past Belgarion first – not to mention Belgarath and Polgara. They’ll incinerate him.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘It’s so nice to have powerful friends.’ He stopped, frowning slightly. ‘We really ought to warn Belgarion, though – and Kheldar,’ he added. He sprawled down into his cushions again. ‘The last we heard, Belgarion and his friends had left Rak Hagga with Kal Zakath. Our best guess was that they were going to Mal Zeth, either as guests or as prisoners.’ He pulled at his long, pointed nose. ‘I know Belgarion well enough to know
that he’s not the sort to stay a prisoner for very long, though. Zakath probably knows where he is, however. Oskatat, is there any way we can get a Dagashi to Mal Zeth?’

  ‘We could try, Urgit, but our chances of success wouldn’t be too good, and a Dagashi might have some difficulty getting in to see the Emperor. Zakath’s got a civil war on his hands, so he’s likely to be a bit preoccupied.’

  ‘That’s true, isn’t it?’ Urgit tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne. ‘He’s still keeping abreast of what’s happening here in Cthol Murgos, though, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  ‘Why not let him be our messenger to Belgarion then.’

  ‘You’re moving a little fast for me, Urgit,’ Oskatat confessed.

  ‘What’s the nearest town occupied by the Malloreans?’

  ‘They still have a reduced garrison at Rak Cthaka. We could overwhelm them in a few hours, but we haven’t wanted to give Zakath any reason to return to Cthol Murgos in force.’

  Urgit shuddered. ‘I’m very strongly inclined toward that line of thinking myself,’ he admitted, ‘but I owe Belgarion several favors, and I want to protect my brother as much as I can. I’ll tell you what you do, Oskatat. Take about three army corps and run on down to Rak Cthaka. Malloreans out in the countryside will run off to Rak Hagga to pass the word on to Kal Zakath that we’re beginning to attack his cities. That should get his attention. Mill around outside the city for a while, then surround the place. Ask for a parlay with the garrison commander. Explain the situation to him. I’ll compose a letter to Kal Zakath pointing out a certain community of interest in this affair. I’m sure he doesn’t want Agachak in Mallorea any more than I want the old magician here in Cthol Murgos. I’ll suggest in the strongest terms that he pass the word on to Belgarion. The word he’ll have already received about our hostile actions will guarantee that he’ll at least look at my letter. He’ll get in touch with Belgarion, and then we can both sit back and watch the Godslayer solve our problem for us.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Who knows? This might even be the first step toward a reconciliation between his Imperial Implacableness and me. I really think it’s time for Angaraks to stop killing each other.’

  ‘Can’t you squeeze any more speed out of her?’ King Anheg demanded of Captain Greldik.

  ‘Of course, Anheg,’ Greldik growled. ‘I could crowd on more sail, and we’ll be as swift as an arrow – for about five minutes. Then the masts will break, and we’ll go back to rowing. Which shift should I put you down for?’

  ‘Greldik, have you ever heard the term “lèsé majesty”?’

  ‘You’ve mentioned it frequently, Anheg, but you should take a look at maritime law sometime. When we’re on board this ship and at sea, I have even more absolute authority than you’ve got in Val Alorn. If I tell you to row, you’ll row – or swim.’

  Anheg walked away, muttering curses under his breath.

  ‘Any luck?’ Emperor Varana asked as the Alorn king approached the bow.

  ‘He told me to mind my own business,’ Anheg grunted. ‘Then he offered to let me man an oar if I was in such a hurry.’

  ‘Have you ever manned an oar before?’

  ‘Once. Chereks are a sea going people, and my father thought it would be educational for me to make a voyage as a deckhand. I didn’t mind the rowing so much. It was the flogging that irritated me.’

  ‘They actually flogged the crown prince?’ Varana asked incredulously.

  ‘It’s very hard to see an oarsman’s face when you’re coming up behind him,’ Anheg shrugged. ‘The oarsmaster was trying to get more speed out of us. We were pursuing a Tolnedran merchantman at the time, and we didn’t want her to reach the safety of Tolnedran territorial waters.’

  ‘Anheg!’ Varana exclaimed.

  ‘That was years ago, Varana. I’ve given orders now that Tolnedran vessels are not to be molested – at least not in the sight of witnesses. The whole point of this is that Greldik’s probably right. If he puts on all sail, the wind will uproot his masts, and you and I’ll both wind up rowing.’

  ‘We don’t have much chance of catching up with Barak, then, do we?’

  ‘I’m not so sure. Barak’s not nearly as good a sailor as Greldik is, and that oversized tub of his isn’t very responsive to the helm. We’re gaining on him every day. When he gets to Mallorea, he’s going to have to stop in every port to ask questions. Most Malloreans wouldn’t recognize Garion if he walked up and spat in their eyes. Kheldar’s another matter, though. I understand that the little thief has branch offices in most of the cities and towns in Mallorea. I know how Barak thinks. As soon as he gets to Mallorea, he’s going to go looking for Silk, since Silk and Garion are obviously going to be together. I don’t have to ask about Silk, though. All I’ve got to do is describe the Seabird to waterfront loafers in just a few towns. For the price of a few tankards of ale, I’ll be able to follow Barak wherever he goes. Hopefully, we’ll catch up with him before he finds Garion and ruins everything. I just wish that blind girl hadn’t told him he couldn’t go along. The fastest way I know of to get Barak to do something is to forbid him to do it. If he were with Garion, at least Belgarath would be there to keep him under control.’

  ‘How do you propose to stop him even if we do catch up with him? His ship may be slower than this one, but it’s also bigger, and it carries more men.’

  ‘Greldik and I have worked that out,’ Anheg replied. ‘Greldik’s got a special piece of equipment in his forward hold. It bolts to the bow of this ship. If Barak refuses to come about when I order him to, Greldik’s going to ram him. He won’t go very fast in a sinking ship.’

  ‘Anheg, that’s monstrous!’

  ‘So’s what Barak’s trying to do. If he succeeds in breaking through to Garion, Zandramas will win, and we’ll all end up under the heel of somebody worse than Torak was. If I have to sink Seabird to avoid that, I’ll do it ten times over.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll miss my cousin, though, in case he gets drowned,’ he admitted.

  Queen Porenn of Drasnia had summoned Margrave Khendon, the chief of her intelligence service, to her private chambers that morning and issued her commands in no uncertain terms. ‘Every one of them, Javelin,’ she had said in a peremptory tone. ‘I want every single spy out of this wing of the palace for the rest of the day.’

  ‘Porenn!’ Javelin had gasped. ‘That’s unheard of!’

  ‘Not really. You just heard it – from me. Tell your people to sweep all the unofficial spies out as well. I want this wing of the palace totally unpopulated within the hour. I have spies of my own, Javelin, and I know where all the usual hiding places are. Clean out every one of them.’

  ‘I’m bitterly disappointed in you, Porenn. Monarchs simply don’t treat the intelligence service in this fashion. Have you any idea of what this is going to do to my people’s morale?’

  ‘Frankly, Khendon, I couldn’t care less about the morale of your professional snoops. This is a matter of supreme urgency.’

  ‘Has my service ever failed you, your Majesty?’ Javelin’s tone was a bit offended.

  ‘Twice that I recall. Didn’t the Bear Cult infiltrate your service? And didn’t your people fail abysmally to warn me about General Haldar’s defection?’

  Javelin had sighed. ‘All right, Porenn, sometimes a few minor things have escaped us.’

  ‘You call Haldor’s going over to the Bear-cult minor?’

  ‘You’re being unnecessarily critical, Porenn.’

  ‘I want this wing cleared, Javelin. Would you like to have me summon my son? We’ll draw up a proclamation making the prohibition against spying on the royal family permanent.’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’ Javelin’s face had turned absolutely white. ‘The whole service would collapse. The right to spy on the royal family has always been the highest reward for exemplary service. Most of my people jump at the chance.’ He frowned slightly. ‘Silk’s turned it down three times already, though,’ he added.

  ‘Then clear
them out, Javelin – and don’t forget the closet hidden behind the tapestry in the corridor just outside.’

  ‘How did you find out about that?’

  ‘I didn’t. Kheva did, actually.’

  Javelin had groaned.

  A few hours after that, Porenn sat impatiently in her sitting room with her son, King Kheva. Kheva was maturing rapidly now. His voice had settled into a resonant baritone, and a downy beard had begun to sprout on his cheeks. His mother, in somewhat marked contrast to most regents, had been gradually introducing him into state councils and negotiations with foreign powers. It would not be long now until she could gently guide him to the forefront and gradually withdraw herself from her unwanted position of authority. Kheva would be a good king, she thought. He was very nearly as shrewd as his father had been and he had that most necessary trait in a reigning monarch, good sense.

  There was a rather heavy-handed pounding on the sitting-room door. ‘Yes?’ Porenn replied.

  ‘It’s me, Porenn,’ a brash-sounding voice said, ‘Yarblek.’

  ‘Come in, Yarblek. We’ve got something to talk about.’

  Yarblek pushed the door open, and he and Vella entered. Porenn sighed. During the course of her visit to Gar og Nadrak, Vella had reverted. She had shed the shallow veneer of gentility Porenn had labored so long to create, and her garb indicated that she had once again become the wild, untameable creature she had always been before.

  ‘What’s all the rush, Porenn?’ Yarblek said gruffly, dumping his shabby felt coat and shaggy hat in the corner. ‘Your messenger almost killed his horse getting to me.’

  ‘Something urgent has come up,’ the Queen of Drasnia replied. ‘I think it concerns us all. I want you to keep it in strictest confidence, however.’

  ‘Confidence,’ Yarblek laughed derisively. ‘You know there aren’t any secrets in your palace, Porenn.’

  ‘There is this time,’ Porenn said a bit smugly. ‘This morning I ordered Javelin to clear all the spies out of this wing of the palace.’