On the evening of the fourth day, however, he decided to try negotiation one last time before turning to more direct alternatives. He found Zakath seated in the chair near his bed with a book in his hands. The dark circles beneath his eyes had vanished, the trembling had disappeared entirely, and he seemed totally alert. “ Ah, Belgarion, “ he said almost cheerfully, “so good of you to stop by.”
“I thought I’d come in and put you to sleep again,” Garion replied with slightly exaggerated sarcasm.
“Have I been that obvious?” Zakath asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact you have. Every time I mention the words ‘ship’ and ‘Mallorea’ in the same sentence, your eyes snap shut. Zakath, we’ve got to talk about this, and time is starting to run out.”
Zakath passed one hand across his eyes with some show of weariness.
“Let me put it this way,” Garion pressed on. “Belgarath’s starting to get impatient. I’m trying to keep our discussions civil, but if he steps in, I can almost guarantee that they’re going to turn unpleasant ‑very quickly.”
Zakath lowered his hand, and his eyes narrowed. “That sounds vaguely like a threat, Belgarion.”
“No,” Garion disagreed. “As a matter of fact, it’s in the nature of friendly advice. If you want to stay here in Cthol Murgos, that’s up to you, but we have to get to Mallorea ‑and soon.”
“And if I choose not to permit you to go?”
“Permit?” Garion laughed. “Zakath, did you grow up in the same world with the rest of us? Have you got even the remotest idea of what you’re talking about?”
“I think that concludes this interview, Belgarion,” the Emperor said coldly. He rose stiffly to his feet and turned to his bed. As usual, his cat had deposited her mewling little brood in the center of his coverlet and then gone off to nap alone in her wool‑lined box in the corner. The irritated Emperor looked with some exasperation at the furry little puddle on his bed. “You have my permission to withdraw, Belgarion,” he said over his shoulder. Then he reached down with both hands to scoop up the cluster of kittens.
Zith reared up out of the very center of the furry heap, fixed him with a cold eye, and hissed warningly.
“Torak’s teeth!” Zakath swore, jerking his hands away. “This is going too far! Go tell Sadi that I want his accursed snake out of my room immediately!”
“He’s taken her out four times already, Zakath,” Garion said mildly. “She just keeps crawling back.” He suppressed a grin. “Maybe she likes you.”
“Are you trying to be funny.?”
“Me?”
“Get the snake out of here.”
Garion put his hands behind his back. “Not me, Zakath. I’ll go get Sadi.”
In the hallway outside, however, he encountered Velvet, who was coming toward the Emperor’s room with a mysterious smile on her face.
“Do you think you could move Zith?” Garion asked her. “She’s in the middle of Zakath’s bed with those kittens.”
“ You can move her, Belgarion,” the blond girl said, smiling the dimples into her cheeks. “She trusts you.”
“I think I’d rather not try that.”
The two of them went back into the Emperor’s bedchamber.
“Margravine,” Zakath greeted her courteously, inclining his head.
She curtsied. “Your Majesty.”
“Can you deal with this?” he asked, pointing at the furry pile on his bed with the snake still half‑reared out of the center, her eyes alert.
“Of course, your Majesty.” She approached the bed, and the snake flickered her tongue nervously. “Oh, do stop that, Zith,” the blond girl chided. Then she lifted the front of her skirt to form a kind of pouch and began picking up kittens and depositing them in her improvised basket. Last of all she lifted Zith and laid her in the middle. She crossed the room and casually put them all into the box with the mother cat, who opened one golden eye, made room for her kittens and their bright green nursemaid, and promptly went back to sleep.
“Isn’t that sweet?” Velvet murmured softly. Then she turned back to Zakath. “Oh, by the way, your Majesty, Kheldar and I managed to find out who it was who poisoned you.”
“What?”
She nodded, frowning slightly. “It came as something of a surprise, actually.”
The Emperor’s eyes had become intent. “ You’re sure?”
“As sure as one can be in these cases. You seldom find an eyewitness to a poisoning; but he was in the kitchen at the right time, he left right after you fell ill, and we know him by reputation.” She smiled at Garion. “Have you noticed how people always tend to remember a man with white eyes?”
“Naradas?” Garion exclaimed.
“Surprising, isn’t it?”
“Who’s Naradas?” Zakath demanded.
“He works for Zandramas,” Garion replied. He frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense, Velvet. Why would Zandramas want to kill him? Wouldn’t she want to keep him alive?”
She spread her hands. “I don’t know, Belgarion ‑not yet, anyway.”
“Velvet?” Zakath asked in puzzlement.
She smiled the dimples into her cheeks again. “Isn’t it silly?” She laughed. “I suppose these little nicknames are a form of affection, though. Belgarion’s question is to the point, however. Can you think of any reason why Zandramas might want to kill you?”
“Not immediately, but we can wring that answer out of her when I catch her ‑and I’ll make a point of doing that, even if I have to take Cthol Murgos apart stone by stone.”
“She isn’t here,” Garion said absently, still struggling with the whole idea. “She’s at Ashaba ‑in the House of Torak.”
Zakath’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Isn’t this convenient, Belgarion?” he said. “ I happen to get poisoned right after your arrival. Belgarath happens to cure me. Kheldar and Liselle happen to discover the identity of the poisoner, who happens to work for Zandramas, who happens to be at Ashaba, which happens to be in Mallorea ‑a place which just happens to be where you so desperately want to go. The coincidence staggers the imagination, wouldn’t you say?”
“Zakath, you’re starting to make me tired,” Garion said irritably. “If I decide that I need a boat to get to
Mallorea, I’ll take one. All that’s kept me from doing that so far are the manners Lady Polgara drilled into me when I was a boy.”
“And how do you propose to leave this house?” Zakath snapped, his temper also starting to rise.
That did it. The rage that came over Garion was totally irrational. It was the result of a hundred delays and stumbling blocks and petty interruptions that had dogged him for almost a year now. He reached over his shoulder, ripped Iron‑grip’s sword from its sheath, and peeled the concealing leather sleeve from its hilt. He held the great blade before him and literally threw his will at the Orb. The sword exploded into blue flame. “ How do I propose to leave this house?” he half shouted at the stunned Emperor. “I’ll use this for a key. It works sort of like this.” He straightened his arm, leveling the blazing sword at the door. “Burst!” he commanded.
Garion’s anger was not only irrational, it was also somewhat excessive. He had intended no more than the door ‑and possibly a part of the doorframe‑ simply to illustrate to Zakath the intensity of his feeling about the matter. The Orb, however, startled into wakefulness by the sudden jolt of his angry will, had overreacted. The door, certainly, disappeared, dissolving into splinters that blasted out into the hallway. The doorframe also vanished. What Garion had not intended, however, was what happened to the wall.
White‑faced and shaking, Zakath stumbled back, staring at the hallway outside that had suddenly been revealed and at the rubble that filled it ‑rubble that had a moment before been the solid, two‑foot‑thick stone wall of his bedroom.
“My goodness,” Velvet murmured mildly.
Knowing that it was silly and melodramatic, but still caught up in that towering, irrational anger, Garion caught the stunned Zakath by the arm with his left hand and gestured with the sword he held in his right. “Now, we’re going to go talk with Belgarath,” he announced.
“We’ll go through the hallways if you’ll give me your word not to call soldiers every time we go around a corner. Otherwise, we’ll just cut straight through the house. The library’s sort of in that direction, isn’t it?” he pointed at one of the still‑standing walls with his sword.
“Belgarion,” Velvet chided him gently, “now really, that’s no way to behave. Kal Zakath has been a very courteous host. I’m sure that now that he understands the situation, he’ll be more than happy to cooperate, won’t you, your Imperial Majesty?” She smiled winsomely at the Emperor. “We wouldn’t want the Rivan King to get really angry, now would we? There are so many breakable things about ‑windows, walls, houses, the city of Rak Hagga‑ that sort of thing.”