"Forgive me, Divine Salmissra," Adiss said, feeling a trifle confused, "but why should the activities of the Alorns and Tolnedrans concern us?"
She swung her head about slowly, her sinuous neck weaving in the air. "Are you a total incompetent, Adiss?" she asked him. "We may not like it, but Nyissa is a part of the world, and we must always know what our neighbors are doing—and why." She paused, her tongue nervously tasting the air. "There is a game of some kind afoot, and I want to find out exactly what it is before I decide whether or not to become involved in it." She paused again. "Have you ever found out what happened to that one-eyed fellow, Is-us?"
"Yes, your Majesty. He was recruited by Drasnian intelligence. At last report, he was in Rak Urga with the Alorn negotiators."
"How very curious. I think this entire business is reaching the point where I must have detailed information—and very, very soon. Do not fail me, Adiss. Your position is not all that secure, you know. Now you may kiss me." She lowered her head, and he stumbled to the dais to touch his cringing lips to her cold forehead.
"Very well, Adiss," she said. "Leave now." And she went back to gazing at her reflection in the mirror.
King Nathel of Mishrak ac Thull was a slack-lipped, dull-eyed young man with lank, mud-colored hair and a profound lack of anything even remotely resembling intelligence. His royal robes were spotted and wrinkled, and his crown did not fit him. It rested atop his ears and quite often slid down over his eyes.
Agachak, the cadaverous Hierarch of Rak Urgo, could not stand the young King of the Thulls, but he forced himself to be civil to him during their current discussions. Civility was not one of Agachak's strong points. He much preferred peremptory commands backed up by threats of dreadful retribution for failure to comply, but a careful assessment of Nathel's personality had persuaded him that the Thull would collapse on the spot if he were suddenly given any kind of threat or ultimatum. And so it was that Agachak was forced to rely on cajolery and wheedling instead.
"The prophecy clearly states, your Majesty," he tried again, "that whichever king accompanies me to the place of the meeting will become Overking of all of Angarak.''
"Does that mean I get Cthol Murges and Gar og Nadrak, too?" Nathel asked, a faint glimmer coming into his uncomprehending eyes.
"Absolutely, your Majesty," Agachak assured him, "and Mallorea as well."
"Won't that make Kal Zakath unhappy with me? I wouldn't want him to feel that way. He had my father flogged once, did you know that? He was going to crucify him, but there weren't any trees around."
"Yes, I'd heard about that, but you don't have to worry. Zakath would have to genuflect to you."
"Zakath genuflect—to me?" Nathel laughed. It was a sound frighteningly devoid of thought.
"He would have no choice, your Majesty. If he were to refuse, the New God would blast him to atoms on the spot.''
"What's an atom?"
Agachak ground his teeth. "A very small piece, your Majesty," he explained.
"I wouldn't mind making Urgit and Drosta bow to me," Nathel confessed, "but I don't know about Zakath. Urgit and Drosta think they're so smart. I'd like to take them down a peg or two. Zakath, though—I don't know about that." His eyes brightened again. "That means I'd get all the gold in Cthol Murgos and Gar og Nadrak, doesn't it? And I could make them dig it out of the ground for me, too." His crown slipped down over his eyes again, and he tilted his head back so that he could peer out from under its rim.
"And you'd get all the gold in Mallorea, too, and the jewels, and the silks and carpets—and they'd even give you your own elephant to ride."
"What's an elephant?"
"It's a very large animal, your Majesty."
"Bigger than a horse, even?"
"Much bigger. Besides, you'd also get Tolnedra and you know how much money they've got. You'd be the king of the world."
"Even bigger than an ox? I've seen some awful big oxes sometimes."
"Ten times as big."
Nathel smiled happily. "I bet that would make people sit up and take notice."
"Absolutely, your Majesty."
"What is it I have to do again?"
"You must go with me to the Place Which Is No More."
"That's the part I don't understand. How can we go there if it's not there any more?"
"The prophecy will reveal that to us in time, your Majesty."
"Oh. I see. Have you got any idea about where it is?"
"The clues I've been getting indicate that it's somewhere in Mallorea."
Nathel's face suddenly fell. "Now that's a real shame," he said petulantly.
"I don't quite—"
"I'd really like to go with you, Agachak. Truly I would— what with all the gold and carpets and silks and stuff—and making Urgit and Drosta and maybe even Zakath bow down to me and all, but I just can't."
"I don't understand. Why not?"
"I'm not allowed to leave home. My mother'd punish me something awful if I did. You know how that goes. I couldn't even think of going as far away as Mallorea."
"But you're the king."
"That doesn't change a thing. I still do what mother says. She tells everybody that I'm the best boy ever when it comes to that."
Agachak resisted a powerful urge to change this half-wit into a toad or perhaps a jellyfish. "Why don't I talk with your mother?" he suggested. "I'm sure I can persuade her ;to give you her permission."
"Why, that's a real, real good idea, Agachak. If mother says it's all right, I'll go with you quick as lightning."
"Good," Agachak said, turning.
"Oh, Agachak?" Nathel's voice sounded puzzled.
"Yes?"
"What's a prophecy?"
They had gathered at Vo Mandor, far from the watchful eyes of their kings, to discuss something that was very private and very urgent. It was also just a trifle on the disobedient side, and there is a very ugly word men use to describe those who disobey their kings.
Barak was there, and also Hettar, Mandorallen, and Lelldorin. Relg had just arrived from Maragor, and Barak's son Unrak sat on a high-backed bench by the window.
The Earl of Trellheim cleared his throat by way of calling them to order. They had gathered in the tower of Mandorallen's keep, and the golden autumn sunlight streamed in through the arched window. Barak was huge and resplendent in a green velvet doublet. His red beard was combed, and his hair was braided. "All right," he rumbled, "let's get started. Mandorallen, are you sure the stairway leading up here is guarded? I wouldn't want anybody to overhear us."