“Don’t you want to find out why?” I shouted, but I saw immediately
that it was useless even to try to talk to him–or to any of the others
who had been there to guard the king. I was exhausted, but I still had
a little bit left in me. I drew in my Will and put an impenetrable
shield around the last two Nyissans. Then, as an afterthought, I put
the pair of them to sleep. I knew Salmissra well enough to realize
that her assassins probably had been ordered to kill themselves once
their mission had been accomplished.
They were armed with poisoned knives, and they undoubtedly had little
vials of toxic substances tucked into every pocket.
“Polgara!” I sent out my thought.
“Is the boy all right?”
“Yes, father. I’ve got him.”
“Stay out of sight! Don’t let anybody see you!”
“All right.”
Then Brand came running toward the commercial enclave from the city
gate. I’ve never fully understood why the Rivan Warder always takes
the name Brand. By the time I got around to asking somebody, the
origins of the custom had long since been forgotten. In Arendia, where
castles are commonplace, the Rivan Warder would have been called a
seneschal. In some of the other kingdoms of the west–and even in some
of the semiautonomous kingdoms in Mallorea–he’d have been called the
prime minister. His duties were approximately the same, no matter what
he was called. He was supposed to handle the administrative details
that kept the kingdom running. Like most of the men who’ve held the
position, this one was a solid, competent man with a deep sense of
loyalty.
He was, however, still an Alorn, and the news that Gorek had been
murdered made him go all to pieces. His eyes were steaming tears, and
he was bellowing with rage. He had his sword out, and he ran at my
invisible barrier swinging with all his might. I let him chop at it
for a while, and then I took his sword away from him.
Yes, I can do that if I have to. When it’s necessary, I can be the
strongest man in the world.
“Gorek’s dead, Belgarath!” he sobbed.
“People die. It happens all the time.” I said it in a flat,
unemotional voice.
His head came up sharply, and he stared at me in disbelief.
“Pull yourself together, Brand,” I told him.
“We’ve got things to do.
First off: order your soldiers not to kill those two murderers. I need
some answers, and I can’t get answers out of dead men.”
“But–” “These are just hirelings. I want to find out who hired them.”
I already had a fair idea, of course, but I wanted confirmation. More
than that, though, I needed to jolt Brand back to his senses.
He drew in a long, shuddering breath.
“Sorry, Belgarath,” he said.
“I
guess I lost my head.”
“That’s better. Tell your men to back away from those two. Then get
somebody here you can depend on to follow orders. I want those two
reptiles put into a safe place and guarded very closely. As soon as I
let them wake up, they’ll try to kill themselves. You’d better strip
them. I’m sure they’ve got poison somewhere in their clothes.”
He straightened, and his eyes went flinty. He turned.
“Captain WantI” he said sharply to a nearby officer.
“Come here!” He then proceeded to give the teary-eyed officer some
very crisp orders.
Want saluted and gathered up about a platoon of men. Then I spoke
briefly with the soldiers. I must have made an impression on them,
because they did as they were told.
“All right. Brand,” I said then.
“Let’s walk down the beach a ways. I don’t want anybody to hear what
I’m going to tell you.”
He nodded, and we walked off toward the south. The beach at Riva is
gravel, and the waves make quite a bit of noise when they come crashing
in. I stopped at the water’s edge about a quarter of a mile away from
the enclave.
“What’s the name of Gorek’s youngest grandson?” I asked.
“Prince Geran,” he replied.
I’m sure that most of you recognize the name. Pol and I have sort of
kept it alive over the centuries.
“All right,” I said.
“Keep a tight grip on yourself. I don’t want you to start dancing for
joy. There are people watching. Prince Geran is alive.”
“Thank the Gods!”
“Well, thank my daughter, actually. She’s the one who rescued him.
He’s a very brave little boy. He got away from the assassins by
swimming out into the harbor. He doesn’t swim all that well, but at
least he got away.”
“Where is he?”
“Polgara’s got him. She’s keeping him out of sight.”
“I’ll send soldiers to escort him back to the Citadel.”
“No, you won’t. Nobody’s going to find out that he’s still alive. Pol
and I are going to take him into hiding, and you’re going to give me
your word never to mention this to anybody.”
“Belgarath! The Rivan King is the keeper of the Orb! He must be
here.”
“No, actually he doesn’t. Everybody in the world knows that the Orb’s
here, and as long as the Rivan King’s here, too, everybody in the world
knows where to find him. That’s why we’re going to have to separate
them.”
“Until the boy grows up?”
“It might be a little longer than that. The time will come, however,
when the Rivan King will return, and that’ll be when the fun starts.
The next Rivan King who sits on that throne is going to be the Child of
Light, and he’s the one we’ve been waiting for.”
“The Godslayer?”
“We can hope so.”
“Where are you going to take Prince Geran?”
“You don’t need to know that, Brand. He’ll be safe. That’s all you
need to know.” I looked up at the murky sky.
“How much longer until it gets dark?”
“A couple of hours anyway.”
I swore.
“What’s the matter?”
“My daughter and your king are out there in the bay, and that’s very
cold water. Excuse me a moment.” I sent out my thought again.
“Polgara, where are you?”
“We’re at the end of the wharf, father. Is it safe to come out yet?”
“No. Stay where you are, and keep out of sight.”
“The boy’s getting very cold, father.”
“Heat the water around you, Pol. You know how to do that. You’ve been
heating your bath-water for centuries.”
“What are you up to, Old Wolf?”
“I’m hiding the Rivan King. Get used to it, Pol, because we’ll be
doing it for quite a long time.” Then I pulled my thought away from
her.
“All right, Brand,” I said aloud.
“Let’s go up to the Citadel. I want to have a long talk with those
Nyissans.”
We went back up the beach and then on to the city gates.
“Who’s going to guard the Orb if you take our king away, Belgarath?”
Brand asked me as we started up the stairs.
“You are.”
“Me?”
“Of course. You’re also going to stand in for the king while he’s
away, and you’re going to pass all of this on to your successor. From
now on, the Rivan Warder’s going to be the only man alive who knows
what we’re doing–normal man, anyway. Pol and I and my brothers don’t
quite qualify as normal. We’re counting on you, Brand. Don’t let us
down.”
He swallowed hard.
“You have my word, Ancient One.”
“Good man.”
The pair of Nyissan “merchants” who had lured Gorek and his family out
of the Citadel by sending word that they had gifts from Queen Salmissra
were still comatose, and a number of grim-faced Rivans were sharpening
knives as they stood guard over them.
“I’ll do it,” I announced.
I said it very firmly in order to head off any protests.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not as good at interrogation as my
daughter is. If you’re really interested in her methods, go talk with
King Anheg of Cherek. He was present when she interrogated the earl of
Jarvik. All she seems to have to do is show somebody
something–something that must be pretty awful, because they start
talking immediately.
My methods are a bit more direct. I’ve always had a fair amount of
success with pain. The only difference between my approach and that of
your run-of-the-mill torturer lies in the fact that I can hurt people
without causing them any physical injury. I can keep a man in agony
for a week without killing him.
As it turned out, it didn’t take me a week. After I’d erased the
effects of the assorted narcotics swarming around in their blood, they
became very tractable. Evidently there’s a certain amount of
discomfort involved when your favorite narcotic runs out. I added a
few other discomforts, and they started begging me to let them talk.
“It was the queen!” one of them blubbered.