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wouldn’t have done it, of course. Gethel was an idiot, but he was sort of necessary at that point.”
“It always comes to that, doesn’t it? You and I do what’s necessary, not what we’d really prefer to do. Neither of us sought this eminence, but we’ll do what’s necessary and what’s expected of us. If we don’t, this world will die, and good, honest men will die with it. I won’t permit that if I can help it. I won’t betray those good, honest men, and neither will you. You’re too good a man yourself.”
“Good? Me?”
‘ ‘You underestimate yourself, Zakath, and I think that very soon someone will come and teach you not to hate yourself anymore.”
Zakath started visibly.
“You didn’t think I knew?” Garion said, boring in relentlessly. “But that’s nearly over now. Your suffering and pain and remorse are almost done, and if you need any instructions in how to be happy, look me up. After all, that’s what friends are for, aren’t they?”
A choked sob came from behind Zakath’s visor.
The she-wolf had been standing between their horses. She looked up at Garion. “Very well done,” she said. “Perhaps one has misjudged you, young wolf. Perhaps you are not a puppy after all.”
“One can but do one’s best,” Garion replied, also in the language of wolves. “One hopes that one has not been too much a disappointment.”
“One feels that you have some promise, Garion.”
And that confirmed something that Garion had suspected for some time now. “Thank you, Grandmother,” he said, sure at last just to whom he was speaking.
“And it took you so very, very long to say it?”
“It might have been considered impolite.”
‘ ‘One believes that you have been too long with one’s eldest daughter. She is, one has noticed, much caught up in propriety. One assumes you will continue to keep your discovery to yourself?”
“If you wish.”
“It might be wiser.” She looked at the palace gate. “What is this place?”
“It is the palace of the king.”
“What are kings to wolves?”
“It is the custom among the man-things to pay respect to
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them, Grandmother. The respect is more to the custom than to the man-thing who wears the crown.”
“How very curious,” she sniffed.
At last, with a great deal of creaking and the clanking of chain, the drawbridge boomed down, and Baron Astellig and his knights led them into the palace courtyard.
As was the one in Vo Mimbre, the throne room here in Dal Perivor was a great, vaulted hall with sculptured buttresses soaring upward along the walls. Tall, narrow windows rose between the buttresses, and the light streaming through their stained-glass panels was jeweled. The floor was polished marble, and on the red-carpeted stone platform at the far end stood the throne of Perivor, backed by heavy purple drapes. Flanking the draped wall hung the massive antique weapons of two thousand years of the royal house. Lances, maces, and huge swords, taller than any man, hung among the tattered war-banners of forgotten kings.
Almost bemused by the similarities, Garion half expected to see Mandorallen in his gleaming armor come striding across the marble floor to greet mem, flanked by red-bearded Barak and horse-maned Hettar. Once again, that strange sense of recurrence struck him. With a start he realized that in recounting past experiences to Zakath, he had in fact been reliving them. In some obscure way this seemed a kind of cleansing in preparation for Ihe now almost inevitable meeting in the Place Which Is No More.
“An it please ye, Sir Knights,” Baron Astellig said to Garion and Zakath, “let us approach the throne of King Oldorin that I may present ye to his Majesty. I will advise him of the diverse restrictions your quest hath lain upon ye.”
“Thy courtesy and consideration become thee, my Lord of Astellig,” Garion said. “Gladly will we greet thy king.”
The three of them proceeded along the marble floor toward the carpeted platform. King Oldorin, Garion noticed, was a more robust-looking man than Korodullin of Arendia, but his eyes revealed a fearful lack of anything resembling thought.
A tall, powerfully built knight stepped in front of Astellig. “This is unseemly, my Lord,” he said. “Instruct thy companions to raise their visors that the king may behold those who approach him.”
“I will explain to his Majesty the reason for this necessary concealment, my Lord,” Astellig replied a bit stiffly. “I assure thee that these knights, whom I dare to call friends, intend no disrespect to our Lord King.”
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“I^n sorry, Baron Astellig,” the knight said, “but I cannot permit this.”
The baron’s hand went to his sword hilt.
“Steady,” Garion warned, placing one gauntleted hand on Astellig’s arm. “As all the world knows, it is forbidden to draw arms in the king’s presence.”
“Thou art well versed in propriety, Sir Knight,” the man barring their way said, sounding a bit less sure of himself now.
“I’ve been in the presence of kings before, my Lord, and I am conversant with the customary usages. I do assure thee that we mean no disrespect to his Majesty by our visored approach to the throne. We are compelled to it, however, by a stern duty that hath been lain upon us.”
The knight looked even more unsure of himself. “Thou art well spoken, Sir Knight,” he admitted grudgingly.
“An it please you then, Sir Knight,” Garion continued, “wilt thou accompany Baron AsteJlig, my companion, and myself to the throne? A man of thine obvious prowess can easily prevent mischief.” A little flattery never hurt anything in difficult situations.
“It shall be as thou sayest, Sir Knight,” the knight decided.
The four of them approached the throne and bowed somewhat stiffly. “My Lord King,” Astellig said.
“Baron,” Oldorin replied with an absent-seeming nod.
“I have the honor to present two stranger knights who have traveled here from afar in pursuit of a noble quest.”
The king looked interested. The word “quest” rang bells in Mimbrate heads.
“As thou may have noticed, your Majesty,” Astellig continued, “my friends are visored. This is not to be taken as a gesture of disrespect, but is a necessary concealment required by the nature of their quest. A foul evil is abroad in the world, and they journey with diverse companions to confront it. They each have some eminence in the world beyond the shores of our isle, and should they reveal their faces, they would instantly be recognized, and the evil one they seek would be forewarned of their coming and would seek to impede them. Thus it is that their visors must remain closed.”
“A reasonable precaution,” the king agreed. “Greetings, Sir Knights, and well met.”
“Thou art kind, your Majesty,” Garion said, “and we are grateful to thee for thy gracious understanding of our circumstances. Our quest is fraught with perilous enchantments, and I
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do fear me that should we reveal our identities, we might well fail, and the whole world would suffer as a result.”
‘ ‘I do fully understand, Sir Knight, and I will not press thee for further details of thy quest. The walls of any palace have ears, and some there are even here who might be in league with the villain thou seekest.”
“Wisely spoken, my King,” a rasping voice said from the back of the throne room. “As I myself know full well, the powers of enchanters are myriad, and even the prowess of these two brave knights may not be sufficient to match them.”
Garion turned. The man who had spoken had absolutely white eyes.
‘ “The wizard of whom I told thee,” Baron Astellig whispered to Garion. “Be wary of him, Sir Knight, for he hath the king in thrall.”
“Ah, good Erezel,” the king said, his face lighting up, “an it please thee, approach the throne. Mayhap in thy wisdom thou mayest advise these two questors concerning the possibility of avoiding the perils posed by the enchantments certain to be strewn in their path.”
“It shall be my pleasure, Lord King,” Naradas replied.
“You know who he is, don’t you?” Zakath murmured to Garion.
“Yes.”
Naradas came down to the throne. “If I may be so bold as to suggest it, Sir Knights,” he said in an unctuous lone, “a great tourney is planned not long hence. Should you not participate, it might arouse suspicion in the minions the one you seek hath doubtless placed here. My first advice to you, therefore, is that you enter our tourney and thus avoid that mischance.” • “A most excellent suggestion, Erezel,” the empty-headed king approved. “Sir Knights, this is Erezel, a great wizard and UK closest advisor to our throne. Consider well his words, for they have great merit. We will, moreover, be greatly honored to have two such mighty men join with us in our forthcoming entertainment.”