The Imperial Compound was a cluster of sculptured marble buildings enclosed within a high wall and situated atop a hill in the western quarter of the city. Warned in advance of their approach, the legionnaires at the gate admitted the party immediately with crisp military salutes. Beyond the gate lay a paved courtyard, and standing at the foot of the marble stairs leading up to a column-fronted building stood the Emperor Varana. "Welcome to Tol Honeth," he said to them as they dismounted. Ce'Nedra hurried toward him, but stopped at the last moment and curtsied formally. "Your Imperial Majesty," she said.
"Why so ceremonial, Ce'Nedra?" he asked, holding out his arms to her.
"Please, Uncle," she said, glancing at the palace functionaries lining the top of the stairs, "not here. If you kiss me here, I'll break down and cry, and a Borune never cries in public."
"Ah," he said with an understanding look. Then he turned to the rest of them. "Come inside, all of you. Let's get in out of the cold." He turned, offered Ce'Nedra his arm and limped up the stairs.
Just inside the doors, there was a large circular rotunda, lined along its walls with marble busts of the last thousand years or so of Tolnedran Emperors. "Look like a gang of pickpockets, don't they?" Varana said to Garion with a wry smile.
"I don't see yours anywhere," Garion replied.
"The royal sculptor is having trouble with my nose. The Anadiles descended from peasant stock, and my nose isn't suitably imperial for his taste." He led them down a broad hallway to a large, candle-lit room with a crimson carpet and drapes and deeply upholstered furniture of the same hue. In each corner stood a glowing iron brazier, and the room was pleasantly warm. "Please," the Emperor said, "make yourselves comfortable. I'll send for something hot to drink and have the kitchen prepare a dinner for us." He spoke briefly with the legionnaire at the door as Garion and his friends removed their cloaks and seated themselves.
"Now," Varana said, closing the door, "what brings you to Tol Honeth?"
"You've heard about our campaign against the Bear-cult?" Belgarath asked him, "and the reason for it?"
The Emperor nodded.
"As it turned out, the campaign was misdirected. The cult was not involved in the abduction of Prince Geran, although there was an effort to implicate them. The person we're looking for is named Zandramas. Does that name mean anything to you?"
Varana frowned. "No," he replied, "I can't say that it does."
Belgarath rapidly sketched in the situation, telling Varana what they had learned about Zandramas, Harakan, and the Sardion. When he had finished, the Emperor's expression was slightly dubious.
"I can accept most of what you say, Belgarath," he said, "but some of it—" He shrugged, holding up both hands.
"What's the problem?"
"Varana's a skeptic, father," Polgara said. "There are certain things he prefers not to think about."
"Even after everything that happened at Thull Mardu?" Belgarath looked surprised.
"It's a matter of principle, Belgarath." Varana laughed. "It has to do with being a Tolnedran—and a soldier."
Belgarath gave him an amused look. "All right, then, can you accept the fact that the abduction might have been politically motivated?"
"Of course. I understand politics."
"Good. There have always been two major centers of power in Mallorea—the throne and the church. Now it looks as if this Zandramas is raising a third. We can't tell if Kal Zakath is directly involved in any way, but there's some kind of power struggle going on between Urvon and Zandramas. For some reason Garion's son is central to that struggle."
"We've also picked up some hints along the way that for one reason or another the Mallorean don't want us to become involved," Silk added. "There are agents stirring up trouble in Arendia, and it may have been a Mallorean who was behind the Vordue secession."
Varana looked at him sharply.
"A man named Naradas."
"Now that's a name I have heard," the Emperor said. "Supposedly he's an Angarak merchant here to negotiate some very sweeping trade agreements. He travels a great deal and spends a lot of money. My commercial advisors think that he's an agent for King Urgit. Now that Zakath controls the mining regions in eastern Cthol Murgos, Urgit desperately needs money to finance the war he's got going on down there."
Silk shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Naradas is a Mallorean Grolim. It's not likely that he'd be working for the King of the Murgos."
There was a respectful tap at the door.
"Yes?" Varana said.
The door opened and Lord Morin, the Imperial Chamberlain, entered. He was an old man now and very thin. His hair had gone completely white and it stood out in wisps. His skin had that waxy transparency one sees in the very old, and he moved slowly. "The Drasnian Ambassador, your Majesty," he announced in a quavering voice. "He says that he has some information of great urgency for you—and for your guests."
"You'd better show him in then, Morin."
"There's a young lady with him, your Majesty," Morin added. "A Drasnian noblewoman, I believe."
"We'll see them both," Varana said.
"As you wish, your Majesty," Morin replied with a creaky bow.
When the aged Chamberlain escorted the ambassador and his companion into the room, Garion blinked in surprise. "His Excellency, Prince Khaldon, Ambassador of the Royal Court of Drasnia," Morin announced, "and her Ladyship, the Margravine Liselle, a—uh—" He faltered.
"Spy, your Excellency," Liselle supplied with aplomb.
"Is that an official designation, your Ladyship?"
"It saves a great deal of time, Excellency."
"My," Morin sighed, "how the world changes. Should I introduce your Ladyship to the Emperor as an official spy?"
"I think he's gathered that already, Lord Morin," she said, touching his thin hand affectionately.
Morin bowed and tottered slowly from the room.
"What a dear old man," she murmured.
"Well, hello, cousin," Silk said to the ambassador.
"Cousin," Prince Khaldon replied coolly.
"Are you two somehow related?" Varana asked.
"Distantly, your Majesty," Silk told him. "Our mothers were second cousins—or was it third?"
"Fourth, I think," Khaldon said. He eyed his rat-faced relative. "You're looking a bit seedy, old man," he noted. "The last time I saw you, you were dripping gold and jewels."