“We’ll see,” Varana replied evasively. “Let’s pray that his Majesty will live for many years yet.”
“Of course,” Sadi murmured. “The silver mantle of the crown princedoes become you, however, my dear General.” He rubbed one long-fingered hand over his shaved scalp.
“Thank you,” Varana said with a slight bow. “And how are affairs in Salmissra’s palace?”
Sadi laughed sardonically. ” The same as they always are. We connive and plot and scheme against each other, and every scrap of food prepared in our kitchens is tainted with prison.”
“I’d heard that was the custom,” Varana remarked. “How does one survive in such a lethal atmosphere?”
“Nervously,” Sadi replied, making a sour face. “We are all on a strict regimen. We routinely dose ourselves with every known antidote to every known poison. Some of the poisons are actually quite flavorful. The antidotes all taste foul, however.”
“The price of power, I suppose.”
“Truly. What was the reaction of the Grand Dukes of Tolnedra when the Emperor designated you his heir?”
Varana laughed. “You could hear the screams echoing from the wood of the Dryads to the Arendish border.”
“When the time comes, you may have to step on a few necks.”
“It’s possible.”
“Of course the legions are all loyal to you.”
“The legions are a great comfort to me.”
“I think I like you, General Varana,” the shaved-headed Nyissan said. “I’m certain that you and I will be able to come to some mutually profitable accommodations.”
“I always like to be on good terms with my neighbors, Sadi,” Varana agreed with aplomb.
In another corridor, Errand found a strangely assorted group. King Fulrach of Sendaria, dressed in sober, businesslike brown, was speaking quietly with the purple-garbed King Korodullin of Arendia and with the scabrous-looking Drosta lek Thun, who wore a richly jeweled doublet of an unwholesome-looking yellow.
“Have either of you heard anything about any decisions concerning a regency?” the emaciated Nadrak king asked in his shrill voice. Drosta’s eyes bulged, seeming almost to start out of his pock-marked face, and he fidgeted continuously.
“I would imagine that Queen Porenn will guide the young king,” Fulrach surmised.
“They surely wouldn’t put a woman in charge,” Drosta scoffed. “I know Alorns, and they all look at women as subhuman.”
“Porenn is not exactly like other women,” the King of Sendaria noted. “She’s extraordinarily gifted.”
“How could a woman possibly defend the borders of so large a kingdom as Drasnia?”
“Thy perception is awry, your Majesty,” Korodullin told the Nadrak with uncharacteristic bluntness. “Inevitably, the other Alorn Kings will support her, and most particularly Belgarion of Riva will defend her. Methinks no monarch alive would be so foolhardy as to counter the wishes of the Overlord of the West.”
“Riva’s a long way away,” Drosta suggested, his eyes narrowing.
“Not so far, Drosta,” Fulrach told him. “Belgarion has a very long arm.”
“What news hast thou heard from the south, your Majesty?” Korodullin asked the King of the Nadraks.
Drosta made an indelicate sound. “Kal Zakath is wading in Murgo blood,” he said disgustedly. “He’s pushed Urgit into the western mountains and he’s butchering every Murgo he can lay his hands on. I keep hoping that someone will stick an arrow into him, but you can’t depend on a Murgo to do anything right.”
“Have you considered an alliance with King Gethell?” Fulrach asked.
“With the Thulls? You’re not serious, Fulrach. I wouldn’t saddle myself with the Thulls, even if it meant that I had to face the Malloreans alone. Gethell’s so afraid of ‘Zakath that he wets himself at the mention of his name. After the Battle of Thull Mardu, ‘Zakath told my Thullish cousin that the very next time Gethell displeased him, he was going to have Gethell crucified. If Kal Zakath decides to come north, Gethell will probably hide himself under the nearest manure pile.”
” ‘Zakath is not overfond of thee either, I am told,” Korodullin said.
Drosta laughed a shrill, somehow hysterical-sounding laugh. “He wants to grill me over a slow fire,” he replied. “And possibly use my skin to make a pair of shoes.”
“I’m amazed that you Angaraks didn’t destroy each other eons ago.” Fulrach smiled.
“Torak told us not to.” Drosta shrugged. “And he told his Grolims to gut anybody who disobeyed. We may not always haveliked Torak, but we always did what he told us to do. Only an idiot did otherwise -a dead idiot, usually.”
On the following day, Belgarath the Sorcerer arrived from the East, and King Rhodar of Drasnia was laid to rest. The small blonde Queen Porenn, dressed in deepest black, stood beside young King Kheva during the ceremony . Prince Kheldar stood directly behind the young king and his mother, and there was a strange, almost haunted look in his eyes. As Errand looked at him, he could see very plainly that the little spy had loved his uncle’s tiny wife for years, but also that Porenn, though she was fond of him, did not return that love.
State funerals, like all state functions, are long. Both Queen Porenn and her young son were very pale during the interminable proceedings, but at no time did either of them show any outward signs of grief.
Immediately following the funeral, Kheva’s coronation took place, and the newly crowned Drasnian king announced in a piping but firm voice that his mother would guide him through the difficult years ahead.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, Belgarion, King of Riva and Overlord of the West, arose and briefly addressed the assembled notables. He welcomed Kheva to the rather exclusive fraternity of reigning monarchs, complimented him on the wisdom of the choice of the Queen Mother as regent and then advised one and all that he fully supported Queen Porenn and that anyone offering her the slightest impertinence would most surely regret it. Since he was leaning on the massive sword of Riva Iron-grip as he made that declaration, everyone in the Drasnian throne room took him very seriously.
A few days later, the visitors all departed.
Spring had come to the plains of Algaria as Polgara, Durnik, Errand, and Belgarath rode southward in the company of King Cho-Hag and Queen Silar.
“A sad journey.” Cho-Hag said to Belgarath as they rode. “I’m going to miss Rhodar.”
“I think we all will,” Belgarath replied. He looked ahead where a vast herd of cattle under the watchful eyes of a band of Algar clansmen was plodding slowly west toward the mountains of Sendaria and the great cattle fair at Muros.
“I’m a little surprised that Hettar agreed to go back to Riva with Garion at this time of year. He’s usually at the head of the cattle herds.”
“Adara persuaded him,” Queen Silar told the old man.
“She and Ce’Nedra wanted to spend some time together, and there’s almost nothing that Hettar won’t do for his wife.”
Polgara smiled. “Poor Hettar,” she said. “With both Adara and Ce’Nedra working on him, he didn’t stand a chance. That’s a pair of very determined young ladies.”
“The change of scenery will do him good,” Cho-Hag noted. “He always gets restless in the summertime and, now that all the Murgos have retreated to the south, he can’t even amuse himself by hunting down their raiding parties.”
When they reached southern Algaria, Cho-Hag and Silar bade them farewell and turned eastward toward the Stronghold. The rest of the ride south to the Vale was uneventful.
Belgarath stayed at the cottage for a few days and then prepared to return to his tower. Almost as an afterthought, he invited Errand to accompany him.
“Weare a bit behind here, father,” Polgara told him. “I need to get my garden in, and Durnik has a great deal of work ahead of him after this past winter.”
“Then it’s probably best if the boy is out from underfoot, isn’t it?”
She gave him along steady look and then finally gave up. “Oh, very well, father.” she said.
“I knew you’d see it my way, Pol,” he said.
“Just don’t keep him all summer.”
“Of course not. I want to talk with the twins for a while and see if Beldin has come back. I’ll be off again in a month or so. I’ll bring him home then.”
And so Errand and Belgarath went on down into the heart of the Vale again and once more took up residence in the old man’s tower. Beldin had not yet returned from Mallorea, but Belgarath had much to discuss with Beltira and Belkira, and so Errand and his chestnut stallion were left largely to find their own amusements.
It was on a bright summer morning that they turned toward the western edge of the Vale to explore the foothills that marked the boundary of Ulgoland. They had ridden for several miles through those rolling, tree-clad hills and stopped in a broad, shallow ravine where a tumbling brook babbled over mossy green stones. The morning sun was very warm, and the shade of the tall, fragrant pines was pleasant.