Silk laughed. "And how many spies are spying on the spies?"
"Several, I'd imagine," Porenn told him. "If I tried to unravel all the spying that goes on here, I'd never get anything done."
"I'll assume that they're all discreet," Belgarath said with a meaningful glance around at the walls and draperies.
"Of course they are," Porenn declared, sounding slightly offended. "We do have standards, you know. Amateurs are never allowed to spy inside the palace."
"All right, let's get down to business, then. Is it really going to be necessary for us to go through some long, involved argument about whether or not you're going to try to send us back to Riva?"
She sighed and then gave a helpless little laugh. "I suppose not," she surrendered. "You are going to have to give me an excuse to give to Polgara, though."
"Just tell her that we're acting on the instructions contained in the Mrin Codex."
"Are there instructions in the Mrin Codex?" She sounded surprised.
"There might be," he replied. "Most of it's such unmitigated gibberish that no one can be absolutely sure one way or the other."
"Are you asking me to try to deceive her?"
"No, I'm asking you to let her think that I deceived you - there's a difference."
"A very subtle one, Belgarath."
"It will be all right," he assured her. "She's always ready to believe the worst about me. Anyway, the three of us are on our way to Gar og Nadrak. Get word to Polgara that we're going to need a diversion of sorts. Tell her that I said to stop wasting time looking for us and to mass an army somewhere in the south - make a lot of noise. I want the Angaraks all to be so busy watching her that they don't have time to look for us."
"What on earth are you going to do in Gar og Nadrak?" Porenn asked curiously.
Belgarath looked suggestively at the walls behind which the official spies - as well as a few unofficial ones-lurked. "Polgara will know what we're doing. What's the current situation along the Nadrak border?"
"Tense," she replied. "It's not hostile yet, but it's a long way from cordial. The Nadraks don't really want to go to war. If it weren't for the Grolims, I honestly think we could persuade them to stay neutral. They'd much rather kill Murgos than Drasnians."
Belgarath nodded. "Pass the word on to your husband that I'd like for him to keep a fairly tight rein on Anheg," he continued. "Anheg's brilliant, but he's a trifle erratic at times. Rhodar's steadier. Tell him that what I want in the south is a diversion, not a general war. Alorns sometimes get overenthusiastic."
"I'll get word to him," Porenn promised. "When will you start?"
"Let's leave that a bit tentative." The old man glanced once again at the walls of the queen's room.
"You'll stay the night, at least," she insisted.
"How could we possibly refuse?" Silk asked mockingly.
Queen Porenn looked at him for a long moment. Then she sighed. "I guess I should tell you, Kheldar," she said very quietly. "Your mother's here."
Silk's face blanched. "Here? In the palace?"
The queen nodded. "She's in the west wing. I've given her that apartment near the garden she loves so much."
Silk's hands had begun to tremble visibly, and his face was still ashen. "How long has she been here?" he asked in a strained voice.
"Several weeks. She came before the baby was born."
"How is she?"
"The same." The little blond queen's voice was hushed with sadness. "You'll have to see her, you know."
Silk drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. His face, however, was still stricken. "There's no avoiding it, I guess," he said, almost to himself. "I might as-right-get it over with. You'll excuse me?"
"Of course."
He turned and left the room, his face somber.
"Doesn't he like his mother?" Garion asked.
"He loves her very much," the queen replied. "That's why it's so ternbly difficult for him. She's blind-fortunately."
"Fortunately?"
"There was a pestilence in western Drasnia about twenty years ago," Porenn explained. "It was a horrible disease, and it left dreadful scars on the faces of the survivors. Prince Kheldar's mother had been one of the most beautiful women in Drasnia. We've concealed the truth from her. She doesn't realize how disfigured her face is - at least we hope she doesn't. The meetings between Kheldar and his mother are heartbreaking. There's no hint in his voice of what he sees, but his eyes-" She broke off. "Sometimes I think that's why he stays away from Drasnia," she added. Then she straightened. "I'll ring for supper," she said, "and something to drink. Kheldar usually needs that after he's visited with his mother."
It was an hour or more before Silk returned, and he immediately started drinking. He drank grimly like a man bent on reducing himself to unconsciousness as quickly as possible.
It was an uncomfortable evening for Garion. Queen Porenn cared for her infant son even while keeping a watchful eye on Silk. Belgarath sat silently in a chair, and Silk kept drinking. Finally, pretending a weariness he did not feel, Garion went to bed.
He had not realized how much he had depended on Silk in the year and a half he had known him. The rat-faced little Drasnian's sardonic humor and towering self reliance had always been something to cling to. To be sure, Silk had his quirks and peculiarities. He was a highstrung, complex little man, but his unfailing sense of humor and his mental agility had seen them all through some very unpleasant situations. Now, however, all traces of humor and wit were gone, and the little man seemed on the verge of total collapse.
The dreadful confrontation toward which they rode seemed all the more perilous now for some reason. Although Silk might not have been able to help him when he finally faced Torak, Garion had counted on his friend to assist him through the terrible days leading up to the meeting. Now even that slight comfort seemed to have been taken away. Unable to sleep, he tossed and turned for hours; finally, well past midnight, he rose, pulled his cloak about him and padded on stockinged feet to see if his friend had made it to bed.
Silk had not. He still sat in the same chair. His tankard, unnoticed, had spilled, and he sat with his elbows in a puddle of ale and his face in his hands. Not far away, her face unreadable, sat the weary little blond queen of Drasnia. As Garion watched from the doorway, a muffled sound came from between Silk's hands. With a gentle, almost tender expression, Queen Porenn rose, came around the table and put her arms about his head, drawing him to her. With a despairing cry Silk clung to her, weeping openly like a hurt child.