“And then those catapults on top of the cliffs will sink half the fleet,” Barak added gloomily.
“Is there any way we can come to the city from behind?” Hettar asked.
“There’s a road coming up from Halberg,” Barak replied, “but it goes through several passes fifteen leagues or so to the south of the city. Those passes are ideal for ambushes.”
General Brendig had been studying the map. “What’s this terrain like?” he asked, pointing at a spot on the south side of the mouth of the inlet.
“Rough,” Barak said, “and steep.”
“That’s a description of most of Cherek,” Silk observed.
“Is it passable?” Brendig persisted.
“Oh, you could climb it,” Barak said, “but you’d be in plain view of the catapultists up on the cliffs. There’s be a whole army waiting for you by the time you got to the top.”
“Not if you did it at night,” Brendig said.
“At night?” the big man scoffed. “Brendig, do you really want to take up nighttime mountain climbing at your age?”
Brendig shrugged. “If it’s the only way to get there.”
Mandorallen had also been studying the map. “Prithee, my Lord,” he said to Barak, “is this slope to the north also gentle enough to afford access to the clifftop?”
Barak shook his head. “It’s a sheer face.”
“Then we must needs seek other means to neutralize the catapults on that side.” The knight thought a moment, then he smiled. “We have the means at our immediate disposal,” he declared.
“I’d be interested to know what they are,” King Fulrach said to him.
“It is the simplest possible solution, your Majesty,” Mandorallen beamed. “To convey siege engines up the south slope would be tiresome -particularly during the hours of darkness. It would, moreover, be totally unnecessary, since the means of destroying the engines on the north side are already in place.”
“I don’t quite follow what you’re suggesting,” Garion admitted.
“I do,” Hettar said. “All we have to do is climb the south slope at night, capture the catapults on top and then start lobbing boulders at the engines across the inlet.”
“And once you distractthose people, I can sweep up the inlet with fireboats and burn out the shipyards,” Anheg added.
“But doesn’t that still leave the city intact?” King Fulrach asked dubiously.
Garion stood up and began to pace up and down, thinking hard. “Once we start throwing rocks back and forth across the inlet and the fireboats start moving up toward the yards, it’s going to attract quite a bit of attention from the city, wouldn’t you say?”
“I could almost guarantee that,” Brendig replied.
“Then wouldn’t that be a perfect time to mount an attack on the landward side of the town? Everybody’s going to be lining the front wall. The backside will be only lightly defended. If we strike fast enough, we could be inside before most of the defenders knew we were coming.”
“Very good, Belgarion,” King Cho-Hag murmured.
“It’s all going to have to be carefully timed, though,” Barak said thoughtfully. “We’ll have to work out a way to pass signals back and forth.”
“That’s not really a problem, Barak,” Aunt Pol told the big man. “We can take care of that.”
“You know,” Anheg said, “I think it might work. If we get lucky, we could take Jarviksholm in a single day.
“I never cared much for long sieges anyway,” Silk noted, carefully polishing one of his rings.
Two days later they found the Cherek fleet standing at anchor off the Halberg straits, a narrow passage leading through a cluster of small, rocky islets jutting up out of the coastal waters of the west coast of the Cherek peninsula.
The islets were topped with scrubby trees and they stood out, green against the snow-fields covering the higher mountains lying inland. Garion stood at the rail of the Seabird, drinking in the beauty of that wild coast. A light step behind him and a familiar fragrance announced his Aunt Pol’s approach.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it, Garion?” she said.
“Breathtaking,” he agreed.
“It always seems this way.” she mused. “Somehow it’s when you’re on your way to something very ugly that you come across these glimpses of beauty.” She looked at him gravely. “Youwill be careful at Jarviksholm, won’t you?”
“I’m always careful, Aunt Pol.”
“Really? I seem to remember a number of incidents not too many years ago.”
“I was a child then.”
“Some things never change, I’m afraid.” She suddenly put her arms about his neck and sighed. “Oh, my Garion,” she said, “I’ve missed you in the past few years, do you know that?”
“I’ve missed you, too, Aunt Pol. Sometimes I wish-” He left it hanging.
“That we could have just stayed at Faldor’s farm?”
“It really wasn’t such a bad place, was it?”
“No. It was a very good place -for a child. But you’re grown now. Would you really have been content there? Life was quite placid at Faldor’s.”
“If we hadn’t left, I’d never have known what it was like to live any other way.”
“But if we hadn’t left, you never would have met Ce’Nedra, would you?”
“I suppose I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Let’s go below, shall we?” she suggested. “That breeze is really rather brisk.”
They encountered King Anheg and Barak in a narrow companionway just outside the main cabin belowdecks.
“Barak,” Anheg was saying acidly, “you’re getting to be worse than an old woman.”
“I don’t care what you say, Anheg,” the red-bearded Barak growled. “You’re not going to take theSeabird up that inlet until all those catapults have been cleared. I didn’t spend that much money on her to have somebody drop boulders on her decks from those cliffs. My boat, my rules.”
The lean-faced Javelin approached from down the companionway. “Is there some problem, my Lords?” he asked.
“I was just laying down a few rules for Anheg here,” Barak replied. “He’s going to be in charge of my ship while I’m gone.”
“Were you going somewhere, my Lord of Trellheim?”
“I’ll be going with Garion when he mounts his attack on the city.
“As you think best, my Lord. How long do you think it’s going to take to reach the mouth of the inlet?”
Barak tugged at his luxuriant red beard. “Those Rivan ships carrying Garion’s troops aren’t quite as fast as our warships,” he mused. “I make it about a day and a half. Wouldn’t you agree, Anheg?”
“About that, yes.”
“That should put us there tomorrow evening, then?” Javelin asked.
“Right,” Barak said, “and that’s when the fun starts.”
Aunt Pol sighed. “Alorns!”
After a few shouted conferences from ship to ship, the combined fleet heeled over sharply in the quickening breeze and beat northward along the rugged west coast of the Cherek peninsula toward Jarviksholm.
The following morning, Garion went up on deck with Barak and Hettar to watch the sun come up above the forested and snow-capped peaks of Cherek. The shadows back in the wooded valleys were a kind of misty blue, and the sun sparkled on the waves.
A mail-shirted Cherek sailor, who had been ostensibly coiling a rope, turned from his task, then suddenly plunged a dagger directly at Garion’s unprotected back as the King stood at the rail.
The attack might well have proved fatal had Durnik not shouted a quick warning. Garion half-turned in time to see the dagger go skittering across the deck. At the same time, he heard a startled exclamation and a splash. He wheeled about to see a desperately clutching hand sink beneath the waves about thirty yards to port. He looked questioningly at Polgara, but she shook her head.
“I forgot about the mailshirt,” Durnik said apologetically, “It’s sort of hard to swim with one of those on, isn’t it?”
“More than sort of,” Barak assured him.
“You’ll want to question him, I suppose,” Durnik said, “I can fish him out, if you like.”
“What do you think, Hettar?” Barak asked.
Hettar considered the notion for several moments, looking out at the bubbles coming up from somewhere far beneath the surface. “These are Cherek waters, aren’t they?”
Barak nodded.
“Then I think we should consult King Anheg and get his opinion.”
“Anheg’s sleeping late this morning,” Barak told him, also looking out at the bubbles.
“I’d hate to wake him,” Hettar said. “He’s had a lot on his mind lately, and I’m sure he needs his rest.” The tall Algar turned to Durnik with an absolutely straight face. “I’ll tell you what, Durnik. The very moment King Anheg wakes up, we’ll bring the matter immediately to his attention.”
“Have you ever translocated anything before, Durnik?” Polgara asked her husband.
“No, not really. I knew how it was done, of course, but I’ve never had the occasion to try it myself. I threw him just a little farther than I’d intended, I’m afraid.”
“You’ll get better with practice, dear,” she assured him.
Then she turned to Garion. “Are you all right?” she asked,