“We’ve all got secrets, Anheg,” Queen Porenn murmured.
“My situation is somewhat peculiar, Porenn.” He pushed his dented crown back into place from where it had slipped down over one ear.
The bearded and fur-clad Greldik pushed past the guards and came into the chamber at that point. “You’ve got trouble at home, Anheg,” he growled bluntly.
“What kind of trouble?”
“I just came back from Jarviksholm,” Greldik replied. “They’re very unfriendly there.”
“There’s nothing new about that.”
“They tried to sink me,” Greldik said. “They’ve lined the tops of the cliffs on both sides of the inlet leading up to the city with catapults. The boulders were coming down like hailstones for a while.”
Anheg scowled. “Why would they do that?”
“Probably because they didn’t want me to see what they’re doing.”
“What could they be doing that they’d want to keep that secret?”
“They’re building a fleet.”
Anheg shrugged. “Lots of people build ships in Cherek.”
“A hundred at a time?”
“How many?”
“I was busy dodging boulders, so I couldn’t get an exact count, but the entire upper end of the inlet is lined with yards. The keels have all been laid, and they’re starting on the ribs. Oh, they’re working on the city walls, too.”
“The walls? They’re already higher than the walls of Val Alorn.”
“They’re even higher now.”
Anheg scowled. “What are they up to?”
“Anheg, when you build a fleet and start strengthening your fortifications, it usually means that you’re getting ready for a war. And when you try to sink the ship of a man known to be friendly to the crown, that usually means that the war is going to be with your king.”
“He does have a point, Anheg,” Barak said.
“Who’s in control at Jarviksholm right now?” Garion asked curiously.
“The Bear-cult,” Anheg said in disgust. “They’ve been filtering into the town from all over Cherek for the past ten years.”
“This is very serious, Anheg,” Barak said.
“It’s also totally out of character,” Javelin pointed out. “The cult has never been interested in confrontational politics before.”
“What
kind of politics?” Anheg asked.
“Another way of saying open war with the crown,” the Drasnian Chief of Intelligence explained.
“Say what you mean, man.”
“An occupational peculiarity,” Javelin shrugged. “Always before, the cult has tried to work from within -trying to gather enough support to be able to coerce the kings of the Alorn nations to followtheir policies. I don’t think they’ve ever even considered open rebellion before.”
“There’s a first time for everything, I guess,” Hettar suggested.
Javelin was frowning. “It’s not at all like them,” he mused, “and it’s a direct reversal of a policy they’ve followed for the past three thousand years.”
“People change sometimes,” General Brendig said.
“Not the Bear-cult,” Barak told him. “There isn’t room enough in a cultist’s mind for more than one idea.”
“I think you’d better get off your behind and get back to Val Alorn, Anheg,” Greldik suggested. “If they get those ships in the water, they’ll control the whole west coast of Cherek.”
Anheg shook his head. “I have to stay here,” he declared. “I’ve got another matter that’s more important right now.”
Greldik shrugged. “It’s your kingdom,” he said, “at least for the time being.”
“Thanks, Greldik,” Anheg said drily. “You have no idea how that notion comforts me. How long will it take you to get to Val Alorn?”
“Three -maybe four days. It depends on how I catch the tides at the Bore.”
“Go there,” Anheg told him. “Tell the fleet admirals that I want them to move out of Val Alorn and take up stations off the Halberg straits. I think that when this council is over, I’ll want to take a little journey up to Jarviksholm. It shouldn’t take much to burn out those shipyards.”
Greldik’s answering grin was positively vicious.
After the council adjourned for the evening, Kail caught up with Garion in the torchlit corridor. “I think there’s something you should consider, Belgarion,” he said quietly.
“Oh?” .
“This moving of the Cherek fleet concerns me.”
“It’s Anheg’s fleet,” Garion replied, “and his kingdom.”
“There is only this Greldik’s unsupported word about the shipyards at Jarviksholm,” Kail pointed out. “And the Halberg straits are only three days from Riva.”
” Aren’t we being overly suspicious, Kail?”
“Your Majesty, I agree completely that King Anheg deserves every benefit of doubt concerning the assassination of my father, but this coincidence that puts the Cherek fleet within striking distance of Riva is an altogether different matter. I think we should quietly look to our defenses -just to be on the safe side.”
“I’ll think about it,” Garion said shortly and moved on down the corridor.
About noon on the following day, Silk arrived. The little man was richly dressed in a gray velvet doublet; as had become his custom of late, his fingers glittered with costly jewels. After only the briefest of greetings to his friends, he went into private discussions with Javelin.
When Belgarath entered the council chamber that afternoon, he had a self-satisfied smirk on his face and the letter from King Anheg in his hand.
“What is it, father?” Polgara asked curiously. “You look like the ship’s cat on a fishing boat.”
“I’m always pleased when I solve a riddle, Pol.” He turned to the rest of them. “As it turns out, Anhegdid write this letter.”
King Anheg jumped to his feet, his face livid.
Belgarath held up one hand.”But,” he continued, “what Anheg wrote isnot what the letter seems to say.” He laid the sheet of parchment on the table. “Have a look,” he invited them.
When Garion looked at the letter, he could clearly see red-colored letters lying behind the ones which spelled out the message that seemed to place responsibility for Brand’s death at Anheg’s door.
“What is this, Belgarath?” King Fulrach asked.
“Actually, it’s a letter to the Earl of Maelorg,” the old man replied. “It has to do with Anheg’s decision to raise the taxes on the herring fishery.”
“I wrotethat letter four years ago,” Anheg declared, a baffled look crossing his face.
“Exactly,” Belgarath said. ” And if memory serves me, didn’t the Earl of Maelorg die last spring?”
“Yes,” Anheg said. “I attended the funeral.”
“It appears that, after his death, someone got into his papers and filched this letter. Then they went to a great deal of trouble to bleach out the original message -all but the signature, of course- and to write one that introduced this so-called trade deputation.”
“Why couldn’t we see it before?” Barak asked.
“I had to tamper with it a bit,” the old man admitted.
“Sorcery?”
“No. Actually I used a solution of certain salts. Sorcery might have raised the old message, but it probably would have erased the new one, and we might need that later on for evidence.”
Barak’s expression was slightly disappointed.
“Sorcery is not theonly way do things, Barak.”
“How did you find out?” Garion asked the old man, “That there was another message, I mean?”
“The bleach the fellow used leaves a very faint odor on the page.” The sorcerer made a wry face. “It wasn’t until this morning that I finally realized what I was smelling.” He turned to Anheg. “I’m sorry it took me so long to exonerate you,” he said.
“That’s quite all right, Belgarath,” Anheg said expansively. “It gave me the chance to find out who myreal friends are.”
Kail rose to his feet, his face a study in conflicting emotions. He went to Anheg’s chair and dropped to one knee. “Forgive me, your Majesty,” he said simply. “I must confess that I suspected you.”
“Of course I forgive you.” Anheg laughed suddenly. “Belar’s teeth,” he said. “After I read that letter, I even suspected myself. Get up, young man. Always stand on your feet -even when you’ve made a mistake.”
“Kail,” Garion said, “would you see to it that word of this discovery gets the widest possible circulation? Tell the people down in the city to stop sharpening their swords.”
“I’ll see to it at once, your Majesty.”
“That still leaves us with an unsolved riddle,” the Earl of Seline noted. , ‘We know that King Anheg wasn’t behind this, but who was?”
“We already have a good start on that,” Lelldorin declared. “We’ve got that list of men who might have had reason to hate Brand.”
“I think we’re following the wrong track there,” Queen Porenn disagreed. “The murder of the Rivan Warder was one thing, but trying to make it look as if Anheg had been responsible is something else entirely.”
“I don’t quite follow you, Porenn,” Anheg admitted.
“If you had a very close friend -youdo have a few friends, don’t you, Anheg, dear?- and if this friend of yours was also a high-ranking official in your government, and the king of another country had him murdered, what would you do?”
“My warships would sail on the next tide,” he replied.