Seeress Of Kell Page 21

  ‘Ah, yer too kind t’ say it, yer Majesty,’ Beldin bowed.

  Before the banquet got underway, Garion and Zakath went back to their quarters for a light meal, since they would be unable to eat in the main dining hall without raising their visors. As guests of honor, however, it was incumbent upon them to be present.

  ‘I’ve never gotten very much entertainment out of watching other people eat,’ Zakath said quietly to Garion after they had entered the banquet hall and taken their seats.

  ‘If you want entertainment, watch Beldin,’ Garion replied. ‘Aunt Pol spoke very firmly with him last night. She told him to mind his manners today. You’ve seen the way he usually eats. The strain of behaving himself should come very close to making him fly apart.’

  Naradas sat at the king’s right elbow. His white eyes were uncertain – even slightly baffled. The fact that Belgarath had made no attempt to get his hands on the map obviously confused him.

  And then the serving men began to bring in the banquet. The smells made Garion’s mouth water, and he began to wish that he’d eaten a bit more earlier.

  ‘I must talk with the king’s chef before we leave,’ Polgara said. ‘This soup is exquisite.’

  Sadi chuckled slyly.

  ‘Did I say something amusing, Sadi?’

  ‘Just watch, Polgara. I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you.’

  Suddenly there was a commotion at the head of the table. Naradas had half-risen, clutching at his throat with his hands. His white eyes were bulging, and he was making strangling noises.

  ‘He’s choking!’ the king cried out. ‘Someone help him!’

  Several of the nobles near the head of the table leapt to their feet and began to pound the Grolim on the back. Naradas, however, continued to strangle. His tongue protruded from his mouth, and his face started to turn blue.

  ‘Save him!’ the king almost screamed.

  But Naradas was beyond saving. He arched backward, stiffened, and toppled to the floor.

  There were cries of dismay from all over the dining hall.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Velvet murmured to Sadi. ‘I’d take an oath that you were never anywhere near his food.’

  Sadi smirked wickedly. ‘I didn’t have to go near his food, Liselle,’ he said. ‘The other night I took a rather careful note of his customary place at the table. He always sits to the king’s right. I slipped in here an hour or so ago and annointed his spoon with a little something that makes a man’s throat swell shut.’ He paused. ‘I hope he enjoyed his soup,’ he added. ‘I know I certainly did.’

  ‘Liselle,’ Silk said, ‘when we get back to Boktor, why don’t you have a chat with your uncle. Sadi’s out of work just now, and Javelin could use a man with his talents.’

  ‘It snows in Boktor, Kheldar,’ Sadi said with some distaste, ‘and I really don’t like snow that much.’

  ‘You wouldn’t necessarily have to be stationed in Boktor, Sadi. How would Tol Honeth suit you? You’d have to let your hair grow, though.’

  Zakath leaned forward, chuckling. ‘Brilliant, Sadi,’ he added his congratulations, ‘and so perfectly appropriate. Naradas poisoned me back in Rak Hagga, and you poisoned him here. I’ll tell you what, I’ll double any offer Javelin makes you if you’ll come to work for me in Mal Zeth.’

  ‘Zakath!’ Silk exclaimed.

  ‘The employment opportunities seem to be cropping up in all quarters of the world,’ Sadi observed.

  ‘Good men are hard to find, my friend,’ Zakath told him.

  The king, shaking and with his face white, was being slowly escorted from the room. As he passed their table, Garion could hear him sobbing.

  Belgarath began to swear under his breath.

  ‘What’s the matter, father?’ Polgara asked him.

  ‘That idiot will be in mourning for weeks. I’ll never get my hands on that map.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BELGARATH WAS STILL swearing when they returned to their quarters. ‘I think I’ve outsmarted myself,’ he fumed. ‘We should have exposed Naradas before we killed him. There’s no way to discredit him in the king’s eyes now.’

  Cyradis sat at the table eating a simple meal with Toth standing protectively over her. ‘What hath thee wroth, Ancient One?’ she asked.

  ‘Naradas is no longer with us,’ he replied, ‘and now the king’s in mourning for him. It could be weeks before he recovers his composure enough to show me that map.’

  Her face grew distant and Garion seemed to hear the murmur of that strange group mind. ‘I am permitted to aid thee in this, Ancient One,’ she said. ‘The Child of Dark hath violated the commandment we laid upon her when we assigned her this task. She sent her henchman here rather than coming to seek the chart herself. Thus certain strictures upon me are relaxed.’ She leaned back in her chair and spoke briefly to Toth. He nodded and quietly left the room. ‘I have sent for one who will assist us,’ she said.

  ‘What exactly are you going to do?’ Silk asked her.

  ‘It might be unwise of me to tell thee in advance, Prince Kheldar. Canst thou, however, discover the location of the remains of Naradas for me?’

  ‘I should be able to do that,’ he replied. ‘I’ll go ask around a bit.’ Then he left the room.

  ‘And when Prince Kheldar returns with the location of dead Naradas, thou, King of Riva, and thou, Emperor of Mallorea, go even unto the king and prevail upon him in the strongest of terms to accompany you at midnight to that place, for certain truths shall be revealed to him there which may lessen his grief.’

  ‘Cyradis,’ Beldin sighed, ‘why must you always complicate things?’

  She smiled almost shyly. ‘It is one of my few delights, gentle Beldin. To speak obscurely doth cause others to ponder my words more carefully. The dawning of understanding in them causes me a certain satisfaction.’

  ‘Not to mention the fact that it’s very irritating.’

  ‘That perhaps is also a part of the delight,’ she agreed impishly.

  ‘You know,’ Beldin said to Belgarath, ‘I think she’s a human being after all.’

  It was about ten minutes later when Silk returned. ‘Found him,’ he said a bit smugly. ‘They’ve got him laid out on a bier in the chapel of Chamdar on the main floor of the palace. I looked in on him. He’s really much, much more attractive with his eyes closed. The funeral’s scheduled for tomorrow. It’s summer, and he probably won’t keep.’

  ‘What would be thine estimate of the hour, Goodman?’ Cyradis asked Durnik.

  The smith went to the window and looked up at the stars. ‘I make it about an hour before midnight,’ he replied.

  ‘Go then now, Belgarion and Zakath. Use all the powers of persuasion at your command. It is absolutely essential that the king be in that chapel at midnight.’

  ‘We’ll bring him, Holy Seeress,’ Zakath promised her.

  ‘Even if we have to drag him,’ Garion added.

  ‘I wish I knew what she was up to,’ Zakath said as he and Garion walked down the hall outside. ‘It might make the king a bit easier to persuade if we could tell him what to expect.’

  ‘It might also make him sceptical,’ Garion disagreed. ‘I think Cyradis is planning something fairly exotic, and some people have difficulty accepting that sort of thing.’

  ‘Oh, my, yes,’ Zakath grinned.

  ‘His Majesty does not wish to be disturbed,’ one of the guards at the king’s door said when they asked admission.

  ‘Tell him please that it is a matter of extremest urgency,’ Garion said.

  ‘I’ll try, Sir Knight,’ the guard said dubiously, ‘but he is much distraught at the death of his friend.’

  The guard returned a few moments later. ‘His Majesty consents to see thee and thy companion, Sir Knight, but prithee, be brief. His suffering is extreme.’

  ‘Of course,’ Garion murmured.

  The king’s private chambers were ornate. The king himself sat in a deeply cushioned chair reading a slender volume by t
he light of a single candle. His face looked ravaged, and there were signs that he had been weeping. He held up the book after they had presented themselves to him. ‘A volume of consolation,’ he said. ‘It doth not offer much of that to me, however. How may I serve ye, Sir Knights?’

  ‘We have come in part to offer thee our condolences, your Majesty,’ Garion began carefully. ‘Know that first grief is always sharpest. The passage of time will dull thy pain.’

  ‘But never banish it entirely, Sir Knight.’

  ‘Undoubtedly true, your Majesty. What we have come to ask of thee may seem cruel in the light of present circumstances, and we would not presume to intrude upon thee were the matter not of such supreme urgency – not to us so much as it is to thee.’

  ‘Say on, Sir Knight,’ the king said, a faint interest showing in his eyes.

  ‘There are certain truths which must be revealed unto thee this very night, your Majesty,’ Garion went on, ‘and they can only be revealed in the presence of thy late friend.’

  ‘Unthinkable, Sir Knight,’ the king said adamantly.

  ‘We are assured by the one who will reveal these truths that they may in some measure assuage thy sorrow. Erezel was thy dearest friend, and he would not have thee suffer needlessly.’

  ‘Truly,’ the king conceeded. ‘He was a man with a great heart.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Garion said.

  ‘There is perhaps another, more personal reason for thee to visit the chapel where Master Erezel lies in state, your Majesty,’ Zakath added. ‘His funeral will be held, we are told, tomorrow. The ceremony will be attended by most of thy court. This night provides thee thy last opportunity to visit with him privately and to fix his well-loved features in thy memory. My friend and I will guard the chapel door to insure that thy communion with him and with his spirit shall be undisturbed.’

  The king considered that. ‘It may be even as thou sayest, Sir Knight,’ he conceded. ‘Though it wring my heart, I would indeed look upon his face one last time. Very well, then, let us repair to the chapel.’ He rose and led them from the chamber.

  The chapel of Chamdar, the Arendish God, was dimly lighted by a lone candle standing on the bier at the body’s head. A gold-colored cloth covered the immobile form of Naradas to the chest, and his face was calm, even serene. Knowing what he did of the Grolim’s career, Garion found that apparent serenity a mockery.

  ‘We will guard the chapel door, your Majesty,’ Zakath said, ‘and leave thee alone with thy friend.’ He and Garion stepped back out into the corridor and closed the door.

  ‘You were very smooth back there,’ Garion told his friend.

  ‘You weren’t so bad yourself, but smooth or rough, at least we got him here.’

  They stood at the door awaiting Cyradis and the others. After about a quarter of an hour, they arrived.

  ‘Is he in there?’ Belgarath asked Garion.

  ‘Yes. We had to do a bit of fast talking, but he finally agreed.’

  Standing beside Cyradis was a figure robed and hooded in black. It appeared to be a woman, a Dal most likely, but it was the first time Garion had ever seen one of that race clad in any color but white. ‘This is the one who will aid us,’ the Seeress said. ‘Let us go in unto the king, for the hour is nigh.’

  Garion opened the door, and they filed in.

  The king looked up in some surprise.

  ‘Be not dismayed, King of Perivor,’ Cyradis said to him, ‘for, as thy champions have told thee, we have come to reveal truths to thee, truths which will lessen thy sorrow.’

  ‘I am grateful for thine efforts, Lady,’ the king replied, ‘but that is scarce possible. My sorrow may neither be lessened nor banished. Here lieth my dearest friend, and my heart lieth on that cold bier with him.’

  ‘Thine heritage is in part Dal, your Majesty,’ she said to him, ‘so thou art aware that many of us possess certain gifts. There are things the one you called Erezel did not tell thee ’ere he died. I have summoned one who will question him ’ere his spirit doth sink into the darkness.’

  ‘A necromancer? Truly? I have heard of such, but have never seen the art practiced.’

  ‘Knowest thou that one with such gifts cannot misspeak what the spirits reveal?’

  ‘I understand so, yes.’

  ‘I assure thee that it is true. Let us then probe the mind of this Erezel, and see what truths he will reveal to us.’

  The dark-robed and hooded necromancer stepped to the bier and laid her pale, slender hands on Naradas’ chest.

  Cyradis began posing the questions. ‘Who art thou?’ she asked.

  ‘My name was Naradas,’ the figure in black replied in a halting, hollow voice. ‘I was Grolim arch-priest of the Temple of Torak at Hemil in Darshiva.’

  The king stared first at Cyradis and then at the body of Naradas in stunned astonishment.

  ‘Whom didst thou serve?’ Cyradis asked.

  ‘I served the Child of Dark, the Grolim Priestess Zandramas.’

  ‘Wherefore camest thou to this kingdom?’

  ‘My mistress sent me hither to seek out a certain chart and to impede the progress of the Child of Light to the Place Which Is No More.’

  ‘And what means didst thou use to accomplish these ends?’

  ‘I sought out the king of this isle, a vain and foolish man, and I beguiled him. He showed me the chart which I sought, and the chart revealed to me a wonder which my shadow conveyed immediately to my mistress. Now she knows precisely where the final meeting is to take place. I prevailed upon the king’s gullibility and was able to lead him into various acts which delayed the Child of Light and his companions so that my mistress might arrive at the Place Which Is No More before him and thereby avoid the necessity of leaving the issue in the hands of a certain seeress whom my mistress distrusts.’

  ‘How is it that thy mistress did not herself perform this task, which was lain upon her and not upon thee?’ Cyradis’ voice was stern.

  ‘Zandramas had other concerns. I was her right hand, and all that I did was as if she had done the deeds herself.’

  ‘His spirit doth begin to sink out of reach, Holy Seeress,’ the necromancer said in a more normal tone of voice. ‘Ask quickly, for soon I will no longer be able to wrest further answers from him.’

  ‘What were these concerns of thy mistress which prevented her from seeking the answer to the last riddle herself as she was commanded to do?’

  ‘A certain Grolim Hierarch from Cthol Murgos, Agachak by name, had come to Mallorea seeking the Place Which Is No More, hoping to supplant my Mistress. He was the last of our race with enough power to challenge her. She met him near the barrens of Finda and killed him there.’ The hollow voice broke off, and then there came a despairing wail. ‘Zandramas!’ the voice cried. ‘You said that I would not die! You promised, Zandramas!’ The last word seemed to fall away into some unimaginable abyss.

  The dark hooded necromancer’s head slumped forward, and she was shuddering violently. ‘His spirit has gone, Holy Seeress,’ she said in a weary voice. ‘The midnight hour is past, and he can no longer be reached.’

  ‘I thank thee,’ Cyradis said simply.

  ‘I but hope, Holy Seeress, that I have been able in some small way to aid thee in thine awesome task. May I retire now? for contact with this diseased mind hath distressed me beyond measure.’

  Cyradis nodded briefly, and the necromancer quietly left the chapel.

  The King of Perivor, his face ashen, but firmly set, walked to the bier. He took hold of the golden cloth which covered Naradas to the chest and hurled it to the floor. ‘Some rag perhaps,’ he said from between clenched teeth. ‘I would not look upon the face of this foul Grolim more.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can find, your Majesty,’ Durnik said sympathetically. He stepped out into the hall.

  The rest stood silently by as the king, his back to the bier and his jaws clenching and unclenching, stared at the back wall of the chapel.

  After a few moments, the
smith returned with a torn piece of burlap, rusty and mildewed. ‘There was a store. room just down the hall, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘This was plugging up a rat hole. Was it more or less what you had in mind?’

  ‘Perfect, my friend. And it please thee, throw it over the face of that piece of carrion. I declare here unto ye all, there will be no funeral for this miscreant. Some ditch and a few spadefuls of earth shall be his grave.’

  ‘More than a few spadefuls I think, your Majesty,’ Durnik suggested prudently. ‘He’s corrupted your kingdom enough already. We wouldn’t want him to pollute it any more, would we? I’ll take care of it for you.’

  ‘I like thee, my friend,’ the king said. ‘And it please thee, bury the Grolim face-down.’

  ‘We’ll see to it, your Majesty,’ Durnik promised. He nodded to Toth, and the two of them roughly lifted the body of Naradas from the bier by the shoulders and dragged it from the chapel with its sandal-shod feet bouncing unceremoniously across the floor.

  Silk stepped closer to Zakath. ‘So now we know that Agachak is dead,’ he said quietly to the Mallorean. ‘Urgit will be delighted to hear it. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to send a messenger to him to let him know about it?’

  ‘The tensions between your brother and myself have not relaxed all that much, Kheldar.’

  ‘Who are ye all?’ the king demanded. ‘Was this so-called quest of thine mere subterfuge?’

  ‘The time hath come for us to reveal ourselves,’ Cyradis said gravely. ‘The need for concealment is now past, for the other spies Zandramas hath set in this place without the knowledge of Naradas cannot commune with her without his aid.’

  ‘That’s Zandramas, all right,’ Silk said. ‘She doesn’t even trust herself.’

  Garion and Zakath raised their visors with some relief. ‘I know that your kingdom is isolated, your Majesty,’ Garion said in his normal dialect. ‘How much do you know of the outside world?’

  ‘There are times when seafarers call upon this harbor,’ the king replied. ‘They bring us news as well as goods.’