The affair that evening had been weeks in the planning. It was the grand finale of the tournament, and it involved dancing—in which Garion and Zakath, still in armor, could not participate. It involved a banquet—which, visored, they could not eat. And it involved a great many flowery toasts to’ ‘these mighty champions, who have lent luster to our remote isle by their presence here,” as the nobles in the court of King Oldorin vied with one another to heap extravagant praise on Garion and Zakath.
“How long is this likely to go on?” Zakath muttered to Gar-ion.
“Hours.”
“I was afraid you might say that. Here come the ladies.”
Polgara, flanked by Ce’Nedra and Velvet, entered the throne room almost as if she owned it. Cyradis, strangely—or perhaps not—was not with them. Polgara, as usual, was gowned in royal-blue velvet trimmed with silver. She looked magnificent. Ce’Nedra wore a cream-colored gown much like her wedding dress, although the seed pearls that had adorned her nuptial gown were missing. Her wealth of copper-colored hair spilled down in curls over one shoulder. Velvet was gowned in lavender satin. Any number of the young knights of Perivor—those who could still walk after the day’s entertainment—were hopelessly smitten by the sight of her.
“Time fbrsome obscure introductions, Ithink,” Garion muttered to Zakath. Pleading the necessity for anonymity, the ladies had remained in their quarters since their arrival. Garion stepped forward and escorted them to the throne. “Your Majesty,” he ); said to King Oldorin, bowing slightly, ‘ ‘though I may not, by , • reason or our need for concealment, tell thee in fulsome detail : of their lands of origin, it would be discourteous of me—to both ; thee and to the ladies themselves—not to present them. I have
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the honor to present her Grace, the Duchess of Erat.” That was safe. Nobody on this side of the world would have the faintest idea where Erat was.
Polgara curtsied with exquisite grace. “Your Majesty,” she greeted the king in her rich voice.
He rose to his feet with alacrity. “Your Grace,” he replied with a deep bow. “Thy presence here illuminates our poor palace.”
“And, your Majesty,” Garion went on, “her Highness, Princess Xera.” Ce’Nedra stared at him. “Your real name might be too well known,” he whispered to her.
Ce’Nedra recovered instantly. “Your Majesty,” she said with a curtsy every bit as graceful as Polgara’s. After all, a girl can’t grow up in an imperial court without learning a few things.
“YourHighness,” the king responded. “Thy beauty doth rob my poor tongue of speech.”
“Isn’t he nice?” Ce’Nedra murmured.
“And lastly, your Majesty,” Garion concluded, “but certainly not the least, the Margravine of Tuna,” he introduced Velvet, making the name up on the spur of the moment.
Velvet curtsied. “Your Majesty,” she said. When she straightened, she was smiling, leveling the full impact of her dimples upon him.
“My Lady—” The king faltered, bowing once again “—thy smile doth stop my heart.” He looked around, a bit puzzled. “Methinks I do remember another lady among thy companions, Sir Knight,” he said to Garion.
“A poor blind girl, your Majesty,” Polgara interceded, “who hath but recently joined us. Courtly entertainments, I fear, would be lost on one who lives in darkness perpetual. She is in the care of the enormous man in our company, one of her family *s faithful retainers, who hath guided and protected her since the melancholy occasion when the light of day forever vanished from her eyes.”
Two great tears of sympathy trickled down the king’s cheeks. Arends, even transplanted ones, were, after all, an emotional people.
Then Garion’s other companions entered, and Garion was glad that his visor hid his grin. Beldin’s face was like a thundercloud. His hair and beard had been washed and combed, and he wore a blue robe not unlike Belgarath’s white one. Garion proceeded with a group of introductions as fraudulent as the previous ones, concluding with, “And this, your Majesty, is
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Master Feldegast, a supremely talented jester, whose rare japes do lighten the weary miles for us all.”
Beldin scowled at him and then made a cursory bow. “Ah, yer Majesty, ’tis overwhelmed I am by the splendor of yer city an’ yer magnificent palace here. ‘Tis a match fer Tol Honeth, Mal Zeth, an’ Melcene—all of which places I have seen in th’ plyin’ of me trade an’ demonstratin’ me unspeakable talents, don’t y’ know.”
The king was grinning broadly. “Master Feldegast,” he said, inclining his head. “In a world full of sorrow, such men as thou art rare and precious.”
“Ah, isn’t it grand of y’t* say it, yer Majesty?”
Then, with the formalities over, Garion and the others drifted away to mingle. A determined-looking young lady advanced on .Garion and Zakath. “You are the greatest knights on life, my Lords,” she greeted them with a curtsy, “and the exalted stations of your companions do proclaim louder than words that ye are both men of high, mayhap even royal, rank.” She gave Garion a smoldering look. “Art thou perchance betrothed, Sir Knight?” she asked.
Another one of those repetitions, Garion groaned inwardly. “Married, my Lady,” he replied. This time he knew how to deal with the situation.
“Ah,” she said, her eyes clearly disappointed. Then she filmed to Zakath. “And thou, my Lord?” she asked. “Art thou espoused, as well—or betrothed, perchance?”
“Nay, my Lady,” Zakath answered, sounding puzzled.
Her eyes brightened.
Garion stepped in at that point. “It is time, my friend, for thee to consume yet another draft of that admittedly foul-tasting potion.”
“Potion?” Zakath asked in a baffled voice.
Garion sighed. “Thy malady worsens, I perceive,” he said, feigning a sorrowful voice. “This forgetfulness of thine is, I fear me, a precursor of the more violent symptoms that will inevitably ensue. Pray to all seven Gods that we may conclude our quest ere the hereditary madness, the curse of thy family, o’erwhelms thee quite.”
The determined-looking young lady backed away, her eyes wide with fright.
“What ore you talking about, Garion?” Zakath muttered.
“IVe been through this before. The girl was looking for a husband.”
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“That’s absurd.”
“Not to her, it wasn’t.”
And then the dancing started. Garion and Zakath drew off to one side to watch. “It’s a silly pastime, isn’t it?” Zakath observed. “I’ve never known why any sane man would choose to waste tune on it.”
“Because the ladies love to dance,” Garion told him. “IVe never met one who didn’t. It’s in their blood, I think.” He looked toward the throne and saw that King Oldorin was unoccupied at the moment. He sat smiling and tapping his foot in time to the music. “Let’s find Belgarath and go talk with the king. This might be a good time to ask about that chart.”
Belgarath was leaning against one of the buttresses, watching the dancers with a slightly bored look on his face. “Grandfather,” Garion said to him, “nobody’s talking to the king right now. Why don’t we go ask him about that map?”
“Good idea. This party’s likely to last well into the night, so there won’t be much chance for a private audience.”
They approached the throne and bowed. “Might we have a word with thee, your Majesty?” Garion asked.
“Of course, Sir Knight. Thou and thy companion are my champions, and it would be churlish of me indeed not to lend an ear to thee. What is this matter that concerns thee?”
“It is but a small thing, your Majesty. Master Garath here—” Garion had dropped the “Bel” in making the introduction “—as I told thee earlier, is mine eldest advisor and he hath guided my steps since earliest childhood. In addition, he is a scholar of some note and hath recently turned his attention to the study of geography. There hath been a long-standing dispute among geographers concerning the configuration of the world of antiquity. By purest chance, Master Garath happened to hear of an ancient chart that, his informant assured him, is kept here in the palace in Dal Perivor. Beset by raging curiosity, Master Garath hath implored me to inquire of thee if thou knowest if such a chart doth indeed exist, and if perchance thou dost, if thou wilt give him permission to peruse it.”
“Indeed, Master Garath,” the king said, “I do assure thee that thine informant was not in error. The chart thou seekest is one of our most prized relics, for it is the selfsame chart that guided our ancestors to the shores of this isle eons ago. As soon as we have leisure, I will be most happy to provide thee access to it in furtherance of thy studies.”
Then Naradas stepped from behind the purple drape at the
back of the throne. “There will be, I fear me, scant time for Studies for some while, your Majesty,” he said, sounding just a bit smug. ‘ ‘Forgive me, my King, but I chanced to overhear thy last remark as I was hurrying to bring thee perhaps distressing news. A messenger hath arrived from the east advising that the foul dragon doth even now ravage the village of Dal Esta not three leagues from here. The beast is unpredictable in its depredations and may lurk in the forest for days ere it emerge again. It well may be that this tragic occurrence is to our advantage. Now is the time to strike. What better opportunity than this for our two brave champions to sally forth and rid us of this nuisance? And I do perceive that these powerful knights do rely heavily upon the advice of this ancient man, and it is fitting therefore that he should accompany them to guide their strategy.”