Valgon permitted himself a faint smile. “I’m sure his Imperial Majesty will appreciate your good opinion, Prince Kheldar.” He turned to Garion. “I know that your Majesty and his old friend will have many things to discuss,” he said. “We can take up this other matter at a later date, perhaps.” He bowed. “With your Majesty’s permission, I will withdraw.”
“Of course, Valgon,” Garion replied. “And thank you.” The Tolnedran bowed again and quietly left the throne room.
Ce’Nedra came down to the foot of the throne and linked her arm affectionately with Silk’s. “I hope you didn’t mind being interrupted, Garion,” she said. “I know that you and Valgon were having an absolutelyfascinating talk.”
Garion made a face. “What was the idea behind all that formality?” he asked curiously. “The business with all those titles, I mean?”
Silk grinned. “Ce’Nedra’s idea. She felt that if we overwhelmed Valgon with enough titles, we could persuade him to go away. Did we interrupt anything important?”
Garion gave him a sour look. “He was talking about the problem of getting Tolnedran merchant vessels unloaded. I think that, if he’d thrown the word ‘prioritizing’ at me about one more time, I’d have jumped up and strangled him.”
“Oh?” Ce’Nedra said, all wide-eyed and girlish. “Let’s call him back, then.”
“I take it that you’re unfond of him,” Silk suggested.
“He’s a Honethite,” Ce’Nedra replied, making an indelicate little sound. “I despise the Honeths.”
“Let’s go someplace where we can talk,” Garion said, looking around at the formal throne room.
“Whatever your Majesty wishes,” Silk said with a grand bow.
“Oh, stop that!” Garion said, coming down from the dais and leading the way to the side door.
When they reached the quiet, sunlit sanctuary of the royal apartment, Garion sighed with relief as he took off his crown and shrugged out of his formal state robes. “You have no idea how hot that thing gets,” he said, tossing the robe in a heap on a chair in the corner.
“It also wrinkles, dear,” Ce’Nedra reminded him, picking up the robe, folding it carefully, and hanging it over the chair back.
“Perhaps I could find one for you in Mallorean satin -suitable color and interwoven with silver thread,” Silk suggested. “It would look very rich -tastefully understated- and not nearly so heavy.”
“That’s a thought,” Garion said.
“And I’m sure I could offer it to you at a very attractive price.”
Garion gave him a startled look, and Silk laughed.
“You never change, do you, Silk?” Ce’Nedra said.
“Of course not,” the little thief replied, sprawling unasked in a chair.
“What brings you to Riva?” Garion asked him, taking a chair across the table from his friend.
“Affection -at least mostly. I haven’t seen you two for several years now.” He looked around. “I don’t suppose you’ve got anything to drink handy?”
“We could probably find something.” Garion grinned at him.
“We have a rather pleasant little wine,” Ce’Nedra offered, going to a dark, polished sideboard. “We’ve been trying to keep Garion here away from ale.”
One of Silk’s eyebrows went up.
“He has an unfortunate tendency to want to sing when he drinks ale,” the Queen explained. “I wouldn’t really want to put you through that.”
“All right,” Garion said to her.
“It’s not so much his voice,” Ce’Nedra went on relentlessly. “It’s the way he goes looking for the right notes -and doesn’t find them.”
“Do youmind?” Garion asked her.
She laughed a shimmering laugh and filled two silver goblets with a blood-red Tolnedran wine.
“Aren’t you joining us?” Silk asked.
She made a face. “The heir to the Rivan Throne doesn’t care much for wine,” she replied, delicately placing one hand on her swelling abdomen. “Or perhaps he enjoys it too much. It makes him start kicking, and I’d rather that he didn’t break too many of my ribs.”
” Ah,” Silk said delicately.
She brought the goblets to the table and set them down. “Now, if you two gentlemen will excuse me, it’s time for my visit to the baths.”
“Her hobby”‘ Garion said. “She spends at least two hours of every afternoon down in the women’s baths -even when she isn’t dirty.”
She shrugged. “It relaxes my back. I’ve been carrying this burden lately.” Once again she touched her abdomen. “And it seems to get heavier every day.”
“I’m glad that it’s the women who have the babies,” Silk said. “I’m sure I wouldn’t really have the strength for it.”
“You’re a nasty little man, Kheldar”‘ she retorted tartly.
“Of course I am.” He smirked.
She gave him a withering look and went in search of Lady Arell, her usual companion in the baths.
“She looks absolutely blooming,” Silk observed, “and she’s not nearly as bad-tempered as I’d expected.”
“You should have been around a few months ago.”
“Bad?”
“You can’t imagine.”
“It happens, I suppose -or so I’ve been told.”
“What have you been up to lately?” Garion asked, leaning back in his chair. “We haven’t heard much about you.”
“I’ve been in Mallorea,” Silk replied, sipping at his wine. “The fur trade isn’t very challenging any more, and Yarblek’s been handling that end of the business. We felt that there was a great deal of money to be made in Mallorean silks, carpets, and uncut gemstones, so I went over to investigate.”
“Isn’t it a little dangerous for a Western merchant in Mallorea?”
Silk shrugged. “No worse than Rak Goska -or Tol Honeth, for that matter. I’ve spent my whole life in dangerous places, Garion.”
“Couldn’t you just buy your goods at Yar Marak or Thull Zelik when they come off the Mallorean ships?”
“The prices are better at the source. Everytime an article goes through another pair of hands, the price doubles.”
“That makes sense, I suppose.” Garion looked at his friend, envying the freedom that made it possible for Silk to go anywhere in the world he wanted to go. “What’s Mallorea really like?” he asked. “We hear stories, but I think that’s all they are most of the time.”
“It’s in turmoil just now.” Silk replied gravely. “Kal Zakath’s off fighting his war with the Murgos, and the Grolims went all to pieces when they heard about the death of Torak. Mallorean society has always been directed from either Mal Zeth or Mal Yaska -the emperor or the church- but now nobody seems to be in charge. The government bureaucracy tries to hold things together, but Malloreans need strong leadership and right now they don’t have it. All sorts of strange things are beginning to surface -rebellions, new religions, that kind of thing.”
A thought occurred to Garion. “Have you run across the name Zandramas?” be asked curiously.
Silk looked at him sharply. “It’s odd you should ask that,” he said. “When I was in Boktor, just before Rhodar died, I was talking with Javelin. Errand happened to be there and he asked Javelin the same question. Javelin told him that it’s a Darshivan name and that was about all he knew. When I went back to Mallorea, I asked in a few places, but people got very tight-lipped and white-knuckled every time I mentioned it, so I let it drop. I gathered that it has something to do with one of those new religions I mentioned before.”
“Did you happen to hear anything about something called the Sardion -or Cthrag Sardius, maybe?”
Silk frowned, tapping the rim of his goblet thoughtfully against his lower lip. “It’s got a familiar ring to it, but I can’t quite put my finger on where I heard it.”
“If you happen to remember, I’d appreciate your telling me anything you can find out about it.”
“Is it important?”
“I think it might be. Grandfather and Beldin have been trying to track it down.”
“I’ve got some contacts in Mal Zeth and Melcene,” Silk noted. “When I get back, I’ll see what I can find out.”
“You’re going back soon, then?”
Silk nodded. “I’d have stayed there, but a little crisis came up in Yar Nadrak. King Drosta started to get greedy. We’ve been paying him some very healthy bribes to persuade him to look the other way about some of our activities in his kingdom. He got the notion that we were making a great deal of money and he was toying with the idea of expropriating our holdings in Gar og Nadrak. I had to come back and talk him out of that notion.”
“How did you manage that? I’ve always had the impression that Drosta does pretty much what he wants in Gar og Nadrak.”
“I threatened him,” Silk said. “I pointed out that I’m closely related to the King of Drasnia and hinted that I was on very good terms with Kal Zakath. The prospect of an invasion from either the East or the West didn’t appeal to him, so he dropped the idea.”
“Are
you on good terms with ‘Zakath?”
“I’ve never met him -but Drosta doesn’t know that.”