David Eddings – The Seeress of Kell

Garion ground his teeth together. With that one innocent-seeming suggestion, Naradas had effectively achieved the delay he had been seeking for weeks now. There was no way out, however. “We would be honored to join with thee and thy val-feuit knights in thy sport, your Majesty,” he said. “Prithee, when are the games to begin?”

“Ten days hence, Sir Knight.”

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The quarters to which they were escorted were again hauntingly familiar. The displaced Arends who had been washed ashore here so many centuries ago had, it appeared, lovingly recreated the royal palace at Vo Mimbre down to the last1 detail— even including its inconveniences. Durnik, ever practical, noticed this immediately. “You’d think they’d have taken advantage of the opportunity to improve a few things,” he observed.

“There’s a certain charm in archaism, dear,” Polgara said, smiling.

“It’s nostalgic, perhaps, Pot, but a few modern touches wouldn’t have hurt all that much. You have noticed that the baths are located down in the cellar, haven’t you?”

“There’s a point there, Lady Polgara,” Velvet agreed.

“It was much more convenient in Mal Zeth,” Ce’Nedra concurred. “A bath in one’s own apartments offers all sorts of opportunities for fun and mischief,”

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Garion’s ears turned bright red.

“I seem to be missing the more interesting parts of this conversation,” Zakath said slyly.

“Never mind,” Garion told him shortly.

And then the dressmakers arrived, and Polgara and the other ladies were whisked away to engage in that activity which, Gar-ion had noticed, always seems to fill the feminine heart with a kind of dreamy bliss.

Immediately behind the dressmakers came the tailors, equally bent on making everyone look as old-fashioned as possible. Beldin, of course, adamantly refused their ministrations, even going so far as to show one insistent fellow a gnarled and very large fist to indicate that he was perfectly satisfied with the way he looked already.

Garion and Zakath, however, were under the constraint placed upon them by the Seeress of Kell, and so they remained buckled up in their armor.

When they were finally alone, Belgarath’s expression grew grave. “I want you two to be careful hi that tournament,” he told the armored men. “Naradas knows who we are, and he’s already managed to delay us. He may try to go a little farther.” He looked sharply toward the door. “Where are you going?” he demanded of Silk.

“I thought I’d nose around a bit,” the little thief said innocently. “It never hurts to know what you’re up against.”

“All right, but be careful—and don’t let anything slip into your pockets by mistake. We’re walking on some fairly shaky ground here. If someone sees you pilfering, we could all get into a great deal of trouble.”

“Belgarath,” Silk replied in an offended tone, “no one has ever seen me steal anything.” And then he went out muttering to himself.

“Is he trying to say that he doesn ‘t steal?” Zakath asked.

“No,” Eriond replied. “Only that no one ever sees him doing it.” He smiled gently. “He has a few bad habits, but we’ve been trying to break him of them.” It was the first time in quite a while that Garion had actually heard his young friend say anything. Eriond had grown increasingly reticent—one might even say withdrawn. It was troubling. He had always been a •(range boy, and he seemed to be able to perceive things that none of the rest of them could. A chill came over Garion as he remembered the fateful words of Cyradis at Rheon: “Thy quest

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will be fraught with great peril, Belgarion, and one of thy companions shall lose his life in the course of it.”

And then, almost as if his memory had summoned her, the blindfolded Seeress of Kell emerged from the room in which the ladies had been conferring with their dressmakers. Immediately behind her came Ce’Nedra, clad only in a very short chemise. “It’s a perfectly suitable gown, Cyradis,” she was protesting.

“Suitable for thee perhaps, Queen of Riva,” the Seeress replied, “but such finery is not for me.”

“Ce’Nedra!” Garion exclaimed in a shocked gasp. “You’re not dressed!”

“Oh, bother that!” she snapped. “Everyone here has seen undressed women before. I’m just trying to reason with my mystical young friend here. Cyradis, if you don’t put on the gown, I’ll be very cross with you—and we really need to do something with your hair.”

The Seeress unerringly took the tiny queen in her arms and embraced her fondly. “Dear, dear Ce’Nedra,” she said gently, “thy heart is larger than thyself, and thy concern doth fill mine as well. I am content, however, in this simple garb. Mayhap in time my tastes will change, and then will I gladly submit to thy gentle ministrations.”

“There’s absolutely no talking to her,” Ce’Nedra said, throwing her arms in the air. Then, with a charming flirt of the hem of her chemise, she stormed back into the room from which the two of them had emerged.

“You ought to feed her more,” Beldin told Garion. “She’s really very skinny, you know.”

” I sort of like her the way she is,” Garion replied. He looked at Cyradis. “Will you sit, Holy Seeress?”

“If I may.”

“Of course.” He waved off Tom’s almost instinctive move to aid his mistress and guided the girl to a comfortable chair.

“I thank thee, Belgarion,” she said. “Thou art as kind as thou art brave.” She smiled, and it was like the sun coming up. She touched one hand to her hair. “Doth this really look so ugly?” she asked.

“It’s just fine, Cyradis,” he told her. “Ce’Nedra sometimes exaggerates, and she has an absolute passion for making people over—me, usually.”

“And dost thou mind her efforts, Belgarion?”

“I suppose not. I’d probably miss them if she didn’t try, at least.”

“Thou art caught in the snare of love, King Belgarion. Thou art a mighty sorcerer, but methinks thy little queen hath a more powerful sorcery yet, for she holds thee in the palm of that tiny band.”

“That’s true, I suppose, but I don’t really mind all that much.”

“If this gets any more cloying, I think I’ll throw up,” Beldin said gruffly.

And then Silk returned.

“Anything?” Belgarath asked.

“Naradas beat you to the library. I stopped by there, and the man in charge—”

“Librarian,” Belgarath corrected absently.

“Whatever. Anyway, he said that as soon as Naradas arrived, he ransacked the library.”

“So that’s it, then,” Belgarath said. “Zandramas isn’t on the island. She sent Naradas here to do her looking for her, it seems. Is be still looking?”

“Apparently not.”

“That means he’s found it, then.”

“And probably destroyed it to keep us from getting a look at ft,” Beldin added.

“Nay, gentle Beldin,” Cyradis said. “The chart ye seek doth still exist, but it is not in the place where ye propose to seek.”

“I don’t suppose you could give us a few hints?” Belgarath asked her.

*’ She shook her head. .. “I didn’t think so.”

“You said the chart,” Befdin said, approaching the subject Obliquely. “Does that mean there’s only one copy?”

She nodded.

The dwarf shrugged. “Oh, well,” he said. “Looking for it gives us something to do while we’re waiting for our two heroes terete go out and start denting other people’s armor.”

“That brings up a point,” Garion said. He looked at Zakath. “Tibu’re not particularly familiar with the lance, are you?”

“Not really, no.”

“Tomorrow morning, then, we’ll have to go someplace so feat I can give you some instruction.”

•”‘- “That seems like a sensible plan to me.”

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The two of them arose early the following morning and left the palace on horseback. “I think we’d better go out of town,” Garion said. “There’s a practice field near the palace, but there’ll be other knights there. I’m not trying to be offensive, but the first few passes are usually very awkward. We’re supposed to be great knights, so let’s not let anybody get the idea mat you’re totally inept.”

“Thanks,” Zakath said dryly.

“Do you enjoy public embarrassment?”

“Not really.”

“Let’s do it my way, then.”

They rode out of the city and to a meadow a few miles away.

“You’ve got two shields,” Zakath noted. “Is that customary?”

‘ ‘The other one is for our opponent. *’

“Opponent?”

“A stump or a tree probably. We need a target.” Garion reined in. “Now,” he began, “we’re going to be involved in a formal tournament. The idea is not to kill anybody, since that’s considered bad form. We’ll probably be using blunted lances. That helps to keep down the fatalities.”

“But sometimes people do get killed, don’t they?”

“It’s not unheard of. The whole purpose of a formal joust is to knock the other fellow off his horse. You ride at him and aim your lance at the center of his shield.”

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