"I've tried everything I can think of, Polgara," Islena declared, "but Grodeg won't let me go."
"The High Priest of Belar?"
"He knows everything, naturally," Islena confirmed. "All his underlings reported my every indiscretion to him. He threatens to tell Anheg if I try to sever my connection with the Bear-cult. How could I have been so stupid? He's got his hand around my throat."
"Just how indiscreet have you been, Islena?" Aunt Pol asked the queen pointedly.
"I went to some of their rituals," Islena confessed. "I put a few cult members in positions in the palace. I passed some information along to Grodeg."
"Which rituals, Islena?"
"Not those, Polgara," Islena replied in a shocked voice. "I'd never stoop to that."
"So all you really did was attend a few harmless gatherings where people dress up in bearskins and let a few cultists into the palace where there were probably a dozen or more already anyway - and pass on a bit of harmless palace gossip? - It was harmless, wasn't it?"
"I didn't pass on any state secrets, Polgara, if that's what you mean," the queen said stiffly.
"Then Grodeg doesn't really have any hold over you, Islena."
"What should I do, Polgara?" the queen asked in an anguished voice.
"Go to Anheg. Tell him everything."
"I can't."
"You must. Otherwise Grodeg will force you into something worse. Actually, the situation could be turned to Anheg's advantage. Tell me exactly how much you know about what the cult is doing?"
"They've begun creating chapters among the peasants, for one thing."
"They've never done that before," Aunt Pol mused. "The cult's always been restricted to the nobility and the priesthood."
"I can't be sure," Islena told her, "but I think they're preparing for something major - some kind of confrontation."
"I'll mention it to my father," Aunt Pol replied. "I think he'll want to take steps. As long as the cult was the plaything of the priesthood and the minor nobility, it wasn't really all that important, but rousing the peasantry is quite another thing."
"I've heard a few other things as well," Islena continued. "I think they're trying to penetrate Rhodar's intelligence service. If they can get a few people in the right places in Boktor, they'll have access to most of the state secrets in the West."
"I see." Aunt Pol's voice was as cold as ice.
"I heard Grodeg talking once," Islena said in a tone of distaste. "It was before he found out that I didn't want anything more to do with him. He'd been reading the auguries and the signs in the heavens, and he was talking about the return of the Rivan King. The cult takes the term 'Overlord of the West' quite seriously. I honestly believe that their ultimate goal is to elevate Belgarion to the status of Emperor of all the West - Aloria, Sendaria, Arendia, Tolnedra - even Nyissa."
"That's not how the term was meant to be interpreted," Aunt Pol objected.
"I know," Islena replied, "but Grodeg wants to twist it until it comes out that way. He's a total fanatic, and he wants to convert all the people of the West to Helar - by the sword, if necessary."
"That idiot!" Aunt Pol raged. "He'd start a general war in the West if he tried that - and even set the Gods to wrangling. What is there about Alorns that makes them continually want to expand to the south? Those boundaries were established by the Gods themselves. I think it's time for someone to put his foot down on Grodeg's neck firmly. Go to Anheg immediately. Tell him everything and then tell him that I want to see him. I imagine that my father's going to want to discuss the matter with him as well."
"Anheg's going to be furious with me, Polgara," Islena faltered.
"I don't think so," Aunt Pol assured her. "As soon as he realizes that you've exposed Grodeg's plan, he'll probably be rather grateful. Let him think that you went along with Grodeg simply to get more information. That's a perfectly respectable motive - and it's the sort of thing a good wife would do."
"I hadn't thought of that," Islena said, already sounding more sure of herself. "It would have been a brave thing to do, wouldn't it?"
"Absolutely heroic, Islena," Aunt Pol replied. "Now go to Anheg."
"I will, Polgara." There was the sound of quick, determined steps, and then a door closed.
"Garion, come back in here." Aunt Pol's voice was firm. He opened the door.
"You were listening?" It wasn't really a question.
"Well-"
"We're going to have to have a talk about that," she told him. "But it doesn't really matter this time. Go find your grandfather and tell him that I want to see him immediately. I don't care what he's doing. Bring him to me now."
"But how do we know he can do anything?" Garion demanded. "I mean, if he's lost his power-"
"There are many kinds of power, Garion. Sorcery is only one of them. Now go fetch him at once."
"Yes, Aunt Pol," Garion replied, already moving toward the door.
Chapter Sixteen
THE HIGH PRIEST of Belar was an imposing-looking man nearly seven feet tall. He had a long gray beard and burning eyes sunk deep in their sockets beneath bristling black eyebrows. He arrived from Val Alorn the following week after the seemingly endless negotiations had finally produced the official betrothal document. Accompanying him as a kind of retinue were two dozen hard-faced warriors dressed in bearskins."Bear-cultists," Barak observed sourly to Garion and Silk as the three of them stood atop the wall of the Citadel, watching the High Priest and his men mounting the steps from the harbor in the bright spring sunshine.
"I didn't say anything about bringing soldiers with him," Garion objected indignantly.
"I imagine he took it upon himself," Silk replied. "Grodeg's very good at taking things upon himself."
"I wonder how he'd like it if I threw him into a dungeon," Garion said hotly. "Do I have a dungeon?"
"We could improvise one, I suppose." Barak grinned at him. "Some nice damp cellar someplace. You might have to import some rats, though. The island's reputed to be free of them."
"You're making fun of me," Garion accused his friend, flushing slightly.
"Now you know I wouldn't do that, Garion," Barak replied, pulling at his beard.
"I'd talk with Belgarath before I had Grodeg clapped in irons, though," Silk suggested. "The political implications might go a bit further than you intend. Whatever you do, don't let Grodeg talk you into letting him leave any of his men behind. He's been trying to get a foothold on the Isle of the Winds for twenty years now. Not even Brand has had the nerve to let him go that far."