debts.
Once he owned their obligations, he was in a position to put quite a
bit of pressure on the girl’s family.”
“What did he hope to gain from that?”
“Zakath came to the throne when he was eighteen or so, and it was
fairly common knowledge in Melcena that there was a marriage proposal
in the wind. Taur Urgas is a Murgo, so he’s abysmally ignorant of the
nature of the Melcenes. Murgo women are kept penned up and ignorant,
so they do what their families tell them to do. Obedience is beaten
into them from the cradle. A Murgo girl would cut her own throat if
her father told her to. Melcene girls are more spirited, but Taur
Urgas didn’t know that. He just assumed that the girl would do
whatever her family ordered her to do. He sent word to his people in
Melcene to give the girl’s family some very specific instructions and
to threaten to call in their debts if they didn’t obey. The family had
been scrambling round trying to raise enough money to pay off those
debts, but they needed more time, so they seemed to go along with the
plot.”
“This is starting to sound like a bad Arendish tragedy, Beldin,” I
observed.
“Oh, it gets even worse. Taur Urgas had a very simple plan to delete a
potential rival. He sent one of the more potent Nyissan poisons to a
nephew of his in the city of Melcene–along with some very blunt
instructions.
The girl was supposed to encourage Zakath’s attentions and then to
poison him at the first opportunity. A nice obedient Murgo girl would
have done exactly that, but a Melcene girl would have refused. Taur
Urgas is so crazy that he couldn’t tell the difference. The girl’s
family was still playing for time, so they pretended to agree.
Unfortunately, there are always a few black sheep in any flock, and an
unscrupulous fellow in one of the minor branches of the family saw a
chance to make a killing.”
Beldin made a sour face.
“Bad choice of words there, perhaps.”
“I think I see where this is going.”
“I thought you might. Anyway, this devious scoundrel sold the details
of the plot to some government officials, and the word filtered up to
Zakath himself. Despite his civilized manner, Zakath’s still an
Angarak, so he immediately went up in flames. Without even thinking,
he ordered the extermination of every member of that Melcene family.
His underlings–also Angaraks–followed his orders to the letter. The
girl was among the first to fall. When the information came to light
later that she’d been totally innocent, Zakath quite nearly went mad
with grief and remorse. He locked himself in his room for about six
months, and when he came out, he was an entirely different man. Before
the incident, he seemed to be a civilized, enlightened sort of fellow
who probably would have made a good emperor. Now he’s an absolute
monster who rules Mallorea with an iron fist, and he’s obsessed with
the idea of doing some very unpleasant things to Taur Urgas.”
“More power to him.” I approved.
“If I weren’t so busy right now, I might offer to lend him a hand.”
“You can be nasty when you set your mind to it, Belgarath, but you’re
no match for Zakath. He sent Taur Urgas a letter after he came out of
seclusion, and he ordered copies of the letter widely circulated–just
to add to the insult, I’d imagine. I got my hands on a copy.” He
reached inside his ragged tunic and brought out a folded piece of
paper.
“Would you like to read the most insulting letter one reigning monarch
has ever sent to another?”
I took the paper, unfolded it, and read.
“To His Majesty, Taur Urgas of Murgodom,” it began.
I was unamused by your recent attempt to influence Mallorean internal
affairs, you Murgo dog. Were it not for current world conditions, I
would bring the entire weight of my empire down upon your head for your
offense.
To insure that there will be no recurrence of this affair, I have taken
all Murgos within my boundaries into custody to serve as hostages to
your continued good behavior. I am advised that several of these
internees are closely related to you. Should you instigate further
adventures in my realm, I shall return your kinsmen to you–piece by
piece.
In the past, your madness has filled your world with imagined enemies.
Rejoice, Taur Urgas, and put aside your insanity, for you now have a
real foe, far more deadly than any of the phantoms of your lunacy. You
may be assured that as soon as world conditions permit, I will descend
upon you and that stinking wasteland you rule. It is my firm intention
to destroy you and your entire vile race. It will be my pleasure to
exterminate every last Murgo from the face of the world and to expunge
every mention of your people from the record of human history.
Keep a watchful eye over your shoulder, you madman, for as surely as
the sun rises tomorrow, one day I will be there to administer the
punishment you so richly deserve.
Zakath.
I whistled and handed the letter back.
“That comes very close to being an open declaration of war,” I said.
“Impressive, wot?” Beldin agreed with a broad grin.
“I may just frame it and hang it on the wall in my tower. I’ve heard
that Taur Urgas was frothing at the mouth and chewing up the carpet
before he even finished reading it. Zakath’s been carrying out his
threat, too. He’s been sending bits and pieces of assorted Murgos to
Rak Goska for the edification of the Murgo King. Urvon’s been trying
to make peace between the two of them, but he’s not making much
progress. Zakath’s heart’s been turned to stone, and Taur Urgas is
getting crazier by the minute.”
“I’ll pass this on to Rhodar,” I said.
“Drasnian intelligence might be able to keep the pot boiling. Is
Ctuchik doing anything?”
“Ctuchik’s your responsibility, Belgarath. I did hear that he’d formed
a Council of Hierarchs, though. I don’t know that they’ll ever be very
significant, Grolim politics being what they are. I saw several Murgo
caravans on the south trail as I came across. Are they up to
something?”
I nodded.
“They’re coming west in droves, pretending to be interested in trade.
It’s probably Chamdar’s idea. He can read the signs as well as we can,
so he knows we’re getting close. Evidently he wants lots of help.”
“Where is he now?”
“In Tolnedra, last I heard. Drasnian intelligence is keeping track of
him for me.”
“You’ve got just about everybody in the West doing your work for you,
haven’t you, Belgarath?”
“It’s called “delegating responsibility,” brother. There’s a lot going
on right now, so I have to stay flexible.”
“Somehow I knew you’d have some facile explanation for the fact that
you’re loafing. Don’t get too comfortable, Belgarath. When the time
comes, you might just have to be in six or eight places all at the same
time.
Let’s go see the twins. This business between Zakath and Taur Urgas
might have shaken a few more clues out of the Mrin.”
It hadn’t, though. The Mrin Codex remained as intractable as always.
I could only assume that the Necessity knew what it was doing and that
it was deliberately keeping me in the dark.
I don’t think any of us have ever given full credit to the twins for
their patient centuries of labor. That pair of gentle Alorn shepherds
have been so vital to what the rest of us have done that in a rather
special way, they’ve been our guides. We run around the world in
response to what they discover. The Necessity usually doesn’t bother
to talk to us. It talks to the twins instead. They’ve worn out six or
eight copies of the Mrin and the Darine over the years, and the Gods
know that I wouldn’t have had that kind of patience, and neither would
Beldin. To this very day, if the twins told me to jump, I’d be about
four feet up in the air before I even bothered to ask
“Which way?” That’s probably what Aldur had in mind when he first sent
for them. The Master’s at least as much a slave to the Necessity as
the rest of us are. That’s why we’re all here, I guess.
Beldin remained in the Vale for a week or so, and then he returned to
southern Cthol Murgos to take up his lonely vigil over our Master’s
sleeping brother. Not long after he left, I went to Boktor to advise
Rhodar of the contention between Zakath and Taur Urgas, King Rhodar
wasn’t getting any slimmer, but his mind seemed to be growing even
faster than his waistline. He squinted at me shrewdly after I’d told
him of the recent events in Mallorea.