‘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.’
‘And what of the events that shaped the world in times past?’
‘Our forebearers brought many books with them, Sir Knight, for the hours at sea are long and tedious. Among those volumes were those of history, which I have read.’
‘Good,’ Garion said. ‘That should make things a bit easier to explain. I am Belgarion, King of Riva,’ he introduced himself.
The king’s eyes widened. ‘The Godslayer?’ he asked in an awed voice.
‘You’ve heard about that, I see,’ Garion said wryly.
‘All the world hath heard of it. Didst thou indeed slay the God of Angarak?’
‘I’m afraid so. My friend here is Kal Zakath, Emperor of Mallorea.’
The king began to tremble. ‘What event is of such magnitude that it persuaded ye two to put aside thy hereditary enmity?’
‘We’ll get to that in a moment, your Majesty. The helpful fellow who’s out burying Naradas is Durnik, the most recent disciple of the God Aldur. The short one there is Beldin, also a disciple, and the one with the whiskers is Belgarath the Sorcerer.’
‘The Eternal Man?’ The king’s voice was choked.
‘I wish you wouldn’t throw that around so much, Garion,’ Belgarath said in a pained tone. ‘Sometimes it upsets people.’
‘It saves time, Grandfather,’ Garion replied. ‘The tall lady with the lock of white hair is Belgarath’s daughter, Polgara the Sorceress. The little one with the red hair is Ce’Nedra, my wife. The blond girl is the Margravine Liselle of Drasnia, niece to the Chief of Drasnian intelligence, and the blind-folded girl who exposed Naradas is the Seeress of Kell. The big fellow who’s helping Durnik is Toth, her guide, and this one is Prince Kheldar of Drasnia.’
‘The richest man in the world?’
‘The reputation might be a trifle exaggerated, your Majesty,’ Silk said modestly, ‘but I’m working on it.’
‘The young fellow with blond hair is named Eriond, a very close friend.’
‘I am awed to be in such august company. Which of ye is the Child of Light?’
‘That’s the burden I bear, your Majesty,’ Garion told him. ‘Now, though it’s largely a part of Alorn history and prophecy, you may know that from time to time in the past there have been meetings between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark. We’re going toward the last one there’s ever going to be. The meeting’s going to decide the fate of the world. Our problem at the moment is discovering where the meeting’s supposed to take place.’
‘Thy quest then is even more awesome than I had imagined, King Belgarion. I will aid thee in whatsoever way I can. The foul Grolim Naradas misled me into hindering thee. Whatever small way in which I might assist thee may serve as partial recompense for that error. I will send forth my ships to seek out the place of the meeting for thee wheresoever it may be, from the beaches of Ebal to the reef of Korim.’
‘The reef of what?’ Belgarath exclaimed.
‘Korim, Ancient Belgarath. It doth lie to the northwest of this isle. Its location is clearly marked upon that chart which thou hast sought. Let us repair to my chambers, and I will show thee.’
‘I think we’ve just about come to the end of it, Belgarath,’ Beldin said. ‘As soon as you take a look at that map, you’ll be able to go home.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘That’s the end of your task, old man. We certainly appreciate your efforts, though.’
‘You wouldn’t mind too much if I came along, would you?’
‘That’s up to you, of course, but we wouldn’t want to keep you from anything important you’ve been neglecting.’ Beldin’s grin grew vicious. Needling Belgarath was one of his favorite forms of entertainment.
As they turned toward the chapel entrance, Garion saw the she-wolf sitting in the doorway. Her golden eyes were intent, and her tongue lolled out in a wolfly smile.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THEY FOLLOWED THE king through the dimly lighted and deserted midnight halls of the palace at Perivor. A tense excitement filled Garion. They had won. No matter how hard Zandramas had tried to prevent it, they had still won. The answer to the riddle lay no more than a few yards away, and once it was answered, the meeting would take place. No power on earth could prevent it now.
‘Stop that,’ the voice in his mind told him. ‘You have to be calm now – very calm. Try to think about Faldor’s farm. That always seems to settle you.’
‘Where have you—’ Garion started, then broke off.
‘Where have I what?’
‘Never mind. The question always irritates you.’
‘Amazing. You actually remembered something I said. Faldor’s farm, Garion. Faldor’s farm.’
He did as he had been told. Though the memories had seemed to fade over the years, they suddenly returned with startling clarity. He saw the shape of the place, the sheds and barns and the kitchen, smithy and dining hall on the lower floor, and the gallery on the second floor where the sleeping chambers were – all surrounding that central yard. He could hear the steely ring of Durnik’s hammer coming from the smithy and smell the warm fragrance of freshly baked bread coming from Aunt Pol’s kitchen. He saw Faldor and old Cralto and even Brill. He saw Doroon and Rundorig and, last, Zubrette – blond and pretty and artfully deceitful. A vast kind of calm came over him, not unlike the calm that had engulfed him when he had stood in the tomb of the one-eyed God in the City of Endless Night so long ago.
‘That’s better,’ the voice said. ‘Try to hold on to that. You’re going to have to think very clearly in the next few days and you can’t do that with your mind racing every which way. You can fly to pieces after it’s all over.’
‘That’s if I’m still around.’
‘We can hope.’ Then the voice was gone.
The guards at the king’s door admitted them, and the king went directly to a cabinet, unlocked it, and removed a roll of ancient, crackling parchment. ‘It is much faded, I do fear me,’ he said. ‘We have tried to protect it from the light, but it is very old.’ He went to a table and carefully unrolled the chart, weighting down the corners with books. Once again Garion felt the tense excitement as he held back slightly, reaching back into his memories of Faldor’s farm to steady himself.