The Belgariad, Vol. 2 (35 page)

"What a pity." 'Zakath sighed. "I was going to have you crucified, Gethell, but I suppose I'll have to forgo that. Perhaps an extra fifty lashes will serve as well."

Gethell began to blubber.

"Oh, come now, my dear fellow, that just won't do. You are a king, after all, and you absolutely must provide a good example for your men. Run along now. I have guests. One hopes that the sight of your public flogging will give your troops greater incentive to do better. They'll reason that if I'd do that to you, then what I'll do to them will be infinitely worse. When you recover, encourage them in that belief, because the next time this happens, I'll have made arrangements to have the necessary timber on hand. Take him away," he said to his men without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

"Forgive me for the interruption, your Highness," he apologized. "These little administrative details consume so much of one's time." The King of the Thulls was dragged sobbing from the pavilion. "I've ordered a small supper for you and your friends, Princess Ce'Nedra," 'Zakath continued. "All the finest delicacies. Then I'll make arrangements for the absolute comfort of you and your companions."

"I hope that this won't offend your Imperial Majesty," Ce'Nedra began bravely, "but one is curious about your plans in regard to our future."

"Please set your mind at rest, your Highness," 'Zakath replied in his dead-sounding voice. "Word has reached me that the madman, Taur Urgas, is dead. I will never be able to repay you for that service, and I bear you absolutely no ill will whatsoever." He glanced toward one corner of his tent where his cat, purring ecstatically, was lying on her back in Errand's lap with all four paws in the air. The smiling child was gently
stroking her furry belly. "How charming," 'Zakath murmured in an oddly melancholy voice.

Then the Emperor of boundless Mallorea rose and approached the divan where Durnik supported Lady Polgara. "My Queen," he said, bowing to her with profound respect. "Your beauty quite transcends all reports."

Polgara opened her eyes and gave him a level gaze. A wild hope leaped in Ce'Nedra's heart. Polgara was conscious.

"You are courteous, my Lord," Polgara told him in a weak voice.

"You are my queen, Polgara," 'Zakath told her, "and I can now understand my God's ages-old longing for you." He sighed then as his apparently habitual melancholy descended upon him once again.

"What are you going to do with us?" Durnik asked, his arms still holding Polgara protectively.

'Zakath sighed again. "The God of my people is not a good or kindly God," he told the smith. "If the arranging of things had been left to me, all might have been different. I was not consulted, however. I am Angarak, and I must bow to the will of Torak. The sleep of the Dragon God grows fitful, and I must obey his commands. Though it wounds me deeply, I must turn you and your companions over to the Grolims.

They will deliver you up to Zedar, disciple of Torak in Cthol Mishrak, City of Night, where he will decide your fate."

THEY REMAINED FOR nearly a week in the Imperial compound as the personal guests of the Emperor 'Zakath, who for some strange reason seemed to take a melancholy pleasure in their company. Quarters were provided for them within the labyrinth of silken tents and pavilions that sheltered 'Zakath's household staff, and their every comfort received the personal attention of the Emperor himself.

The strange, sad-eyed man puzzled Princess Ce'Nedra. Although he was the absolute soul of courtesy, the memory of his interview with King Gethell frightened her. His ruthlessness was all the more chilling because he never lost his temper. He never seemed to sleep either, and when, often in the middle of the night, he felt some obscure need for conversation, he would send for Ce'Nedra. He never apologized for having interrupted her rest. It apparently did not even occur to him that his summons might in some way inconvenience her.
"Where did King Rhodar receive his military training?" 'Zakath asked her during one of these midnight interviews. "None of my information about him even hints about any such talent." The Emperor was seated deep in the purple cushions of a soft chair with golden candlelight playing over his face and his cat dozing in his lap.

"I really couldn't say, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra replied, toying absently with the sleeve of the pale silk gown that had been provided for her soon after her arrival. "I only met Rhodar last winter."

"Very peculiar," 'Zakath mused. "We had always assumed that he was just a foolish old man doting on his young wife. We had never even considered him a possible threat. We concentrated our attentions on Brand and Anheg. Brand is too self effacing to be a good leader, and Anheg seemed too erratic to give us much concern. Then Rhodar appeared out of nowhere to take charge of things. The Alorns are an enigma, aren't they? How can a sensible Tolnedran girl stand them?"

She smiled briefly. "They have a certain charm, your Majesty," she told him rather pertly.

"Where is Belgarion?" The question came without any warning. '

"We don't know, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra answered evasively. "Lady Polgara was furious when he slipped away."

"In the company of Belgarath and Kheldar," the Emperor added."We heard of the search for them. Tell me, Princess, does he by any chance have Cthrag Yaska with him?"

"Cthrag Yaska?"

"The burning stone - what you in the west call the Orb of Aldur "

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that, your Majesty," she told him rather primly, "and I'm sure you're too courteous to try to wring the information out of me."

"Princess," he said reprovingly.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty," she apologized and gave him that quick, little girl smile that was always her weapon of last resort.

'Zakath smiled gently. "You're a devious young woman, Ce'Nedra," he said.

"Yes, your Majesty," she acknowledged. "What prompted you and Taur Urgas to bury your enmity and unite against us?" Ce'Nedra wanted to demonstrate that she too could ask surprise questions.

"There was no unity in our attack, Princess," he replied. "I was merely responding to Taur Urgas."

"I don't understand."

"So long as he remained at Rak Goska, I was perfectly content to stay at Thull Zelik; but as soon as he began to march north, I had to respond. The land of the Thulls is of too much strategic importance to allow it to be occupied by a hostile force."

"And what now, 'Zakath?" Ce'Nedra asked him impudently. "Taur Urgas is dead. Where will you turn now in search of an enemy?"

He smiled a wintry smile. "How little you understand us, Ce'Nedra. Taur Urgas was only the symbol of Murgo fanaticism. Ctuchik is dead, and Taur Urgas is dead, but Murgodom lives on - even as Mallorea will live on when I am gone. Our enmity goes back for eons. At last, however, a Mallorean Emperor is in a position to crush Cthol Murgos once and for all and make himself undisputed overking of Angarak."
"It's all for power, then?"

"What else is there?" he asked sadly. "When I was very young, I thought that there might be something else-but events proved that I was wrong." A brief look of pain crossed his face, and he sighed. "In time you will discover that same truth. Your Belgarion will grow colder as the years pass and the chill satisfaction of power comes more and more to possess him. When it is complete, and only his love of power remains, then he and I will move against each other as inevitably as two great tides. I will not attack him until his education is complete. There is no satisfaction in destroying a man who does not fully comprehend reality.

When all of his illusions are gone and only his love of power remains, then he will be a fit opponent." His face had grown bleak. He looked at her, his eyes as dead and cold as ice. "I think I've kept you from your rest too long, Princess," he said. "Go to bed and dream of love and other absurdities. The dreams will die all too soon, so enjoy them while you can."

Early the next morning, Ce'Nedra entered the pavilion where Polgara rested, recuperating from the struggle with the Grolims at Thull Mardu. She was alert, but still dreadfully weak.

"He's every bit as insane as Taur Urgas was," Ce'Nedra reported. "He's so obsessed with the idea of becoming overking of Angarak that he isn't even paying any attention to what we've been doing."

"That may change once Anheg starts sinking his troop ships," Polgara replied. "There's nothing we can do at the moment, so just keep listening to him and be polite."

"Do you think we should try to escape?"

"No."

Ce'Nedra looked at her, a bit startled.

"What's happening is supposed to happen. There's some reason that the four of us - you, Durnik, Errand, and I - are supposed to go to Mallorea. Let's not tamper with it."

"You knew this was going to happen?"

Polgara gave her a weary smile. "I knew that's where we were going. I didn't know how, exactly. 'Zakath isn't interfering in any way, so don't aggravate him."

Ce'Nedra sighed in resignation. "Whatever you say, Lady Polgara," she said.

It was early afternoon of that same day when the first reports of King Anheg's activities in the Sea of the East reached the Emperor 'Zakath. Ce'Nedra, who was present when the dispatches were delivered, felt a secret sense of satisfaction as the icy man showed the first hint of irritation she had seen in him.

"Are you certain of this?" he demanded of the trembling messenger, holding up the parchment.

"I only carried the dispatch, dread Lord." The messenger quailed, cringing back from his Emperor's anger.

"Were you at Thull Zelik when the ships arnved?"

"There was only one ship, dread Lord."

"One ship out of fifty?" 'Zakath's tone was incredulous. "Weren't there others - perhaps coming along the coast?"

"The sailors said there weren't, your Imperial Majesty."

"What kind of barbarian is this Anheg of Cherek?" 'Zakath exclaimed to Ce'Nedra. "Each of those ships
carried two hundred men."

"King Anheg is an Alorn, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra replied coolly. "They're an unpredictable people."

With a great deal of effort, 'Zakath regained his composure. "I see," he said after a moment's reflection.

"This was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it, Princess? The entire attack on Thull Mardu was a subterfuge."

"Not entirely, your Majesty. I was assured that the city had to be neutralized to permit the passage of the fleet."

"But why is he drowning my soldiers? I bear the Alorns no malice."

"Torak does - or so I'm told - and it is Torak who will command the combined armies of Angarak. We cannot allow your forces to land on this continent, your Majesty. We cannot give Torak that advantage."

"Torak is asleep - and he's likely to remain so for a number of years yet."

"Our information indicates that it will not be nearly so long. Belgarath himself is convinced that the time is near at hand."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I must hand you all over to the Grolims, then," he said. "I'd hoped to wait until Polgara had regained her strength before subjecting her to the journey; but if what you say is true, there is little time to waste. Advise your friends to make their preparations, Princess. You will depart for Thull Zelik tomorrow morning."

"As your Majesty wishes," Ce'Nedra replied, a chill going down her spine as she bowed her head in acquiescence.

"I am a secular man, Princess," he said by way of explanation. "I bow to the altar of Torak when the occasion demands it, but I make no pretence at excessive piety. I will not involve myself in a religious dispute between Belgarath and Zedar, and I most certainly will not stand between Torak and Aldur when they confront each other. I would strongly advise you to follow the same course."

"That decision is not mine to make, your Majesty. My part in this was decided for me long before I was born."

He looked amused. "The Prophecy, you mean? We Angaraks have one also, Princess, and I don't imagine yours is any more reliable than ours. Prophecy is no more than a trick of the priesthood to maintain its grip on the gullible."

"Then you believe in nothing, my Lord?"

"I believe in my own power. Nothing else makes any sense."

The Grolims who escorted them in easy stages northward across the summer-browned plains of Mishrak ac Thull toward Thull Zelik were coldly proper. Ce'Nedra could not be sure if their behavior was the result of warnings from the Emperor of Mallorea or their fear of Polgara. The stifling heat was past now, and the air smelled faintly of the dusty end of summer. The Thullish plain was dotted with villages, random collections of thatch-roofed cottages and dirt streets. The villagers watched, sullen and afraid, as the priests of Torak rode through the little towns, their faces cold and aloof.

The plain to the west of Thull Zelik was covered with the red tents of the vast staging area that had been erected for the Mallorean army. With the exception of caretaker detachments, however, the huge camp was empty. The troops already in Mishrak ac Thull were with 'Zakath near Thull Mardu, and the steady stream of new arrivals had been quite suddenly cut off.
Thull Zelik itself was like any port town in the world, smelling of salt water, fish, tar, and rotting seaweed.

The gray stone buildings were low and squat, almost like the Thulls themselves, and the cobblestoned streets all sloped down to the harbor, which lay in the curve of a broad estuary and faced a somewhat similar harbor on the other side.

"What city is that?" Ce'Nedra curiously asked one of the Grolims as she looked across the dirty water toward the far shore.

"Yar Marak," the black-robed priest answered curtly.

"Ah," she said, remembering now her tedious geography lessons. The two cities, one Thullish, the other Nadrak, faced each other across the estuary at the mouth of the River Cordu, and the boundary between Mishrak ac Thull and Gar og Nadrak ran down the precise center of the river.

"When the Emperor returns from Thull Mardu, I imagine he'll take steps to eradicate that place over there,"

one of the other Grolims added. "He was not pleased with the behavior of King Drosta on the battlefield, and some chastisement seems in order."