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looked around with the wind clawing at his bright-red hair. “It doesn’t seem to be letting up, does it, father?” he observed.
“Not noticeably.”
“Hettar wants to talk with you.”
“I’ve got to steer this big brute.”
“The mate can do it, father. All he has to do is keep her bow into the wind. Hettar’s been studying that map, and he thinks we’re in danger.”
“From this little storm? Don’t be silly.”
“Is Seabirtfs bottom strong enough to take on rocks?”
“We’re in deep water.”
“Not for long, I don’t think. Just come below, father. Hettar can show you.”
Grumbling, Barak turned the tiller over to the first mate and followed his son to the companionway leading below. Nathel, the King of the Thulls, trailed along behind them, his face incurious. Nathel was a bit older than Unrak, but he had taken to following Barak’s red-haired son about like a stray puppy. Unrak was none too gracious to his unwanted companion.
“What’s this all about, Hettar?” Barak demanded of his friend as he entered the cramped cabin.
“Come over here and have a look,” the tall Algar said.
Barak strode to the bolted-down table and looked down at the map.
“We left Dal Zerba yesterday morning, right?”
“Yes. We’d have gotten away sooner if somebody’d been paying attention to what was lying under the surface of that river. I think I’ll find out who was on bow watch that day and have him keel-hauled.”
“What’s keel-hauled?” Nathel asked Unrak.
“Something very unpleasant,” the red-haired boy replied.
“I’d rather you didn’t tell me, then. 1 don’t like unpleasant stuff.”
“Whatever you want, your Majesty.” Unrak did have a few manners.
“Couldn’t you just call me Nathel?” the Thull asked plaintively. “I’m not really a king anyway. Mother’s the one who makes all the decisions.”
“Anything you want, Nathel.” Unrak said it with a certain
pity.
“How far would you estimate we’ve come since yesterday?’
Hettar asked Barak.
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“Oh, maybe twenty leagues. We had to heave to last night because we’re in strange waters.”
“That puts us almost right here, doesn’t it?” Hettar pointed at an ominous symbol on the map.
“We aren’t anywhere near that reef, Hettar. We came about to southeast as soon as we came out of that estuary at the mouth of the river.”
“But we haven’t been going southeast, Barak. There seems to be a current that comes down along the west coast of Mal-lorea, and it’s a fairiy strong one. I’ve checked a few times. Your bow is pointed southeast, but the Seabird has been drifting sideways almost due south because of that current.”
‘ ‘When did you suddenly become such an expert on sailing?”
**I don’t have to be, Barak. Take a stick of wood and throw it off your starboard side. Your ship will catch up with the stick in just a few minutes. We’re definitely drifting south in spite of whichever direction your bow is pointed. I’d guess that within an hour we’ 11 be able to hear the surf breaking on that reef.”
“I do confirm that our friend speaketh truth, my Lord of Trellheim,” Mandorallen assured him. “I myself have witnessed his experiment with the stick. Truly, we are tending southward.”
“What can we do?” Lelldorin asked a bit apprehensively.
Barak stared gloomily at the map. “We don’t have any choice,” he said. “We can’t get back out into open sea in this storm. We’ll have to drop both anchors and hope that we can find a bottom that’ll hold us. Then we sit tight and ride it out. What’s the name of that reef, Hettar?”
‘”ftirim,” the Algar replied.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Like almost every other ship’s cabin in all the world, the one on Captain Kresca’s vessel was low and had dark-stained beams overhead. The furniture was bolted to the floor, and oil lamps swung from the beams as the ship, swinging at anchor, rolled heavily in the combers coming in off the Sea of the East. Garion rather liked being at sea. There was a calmness, a kind of suspension of care out on deep water. When he was ashore it seemed that he was always scurrying from place to place through crowds of people, all filling his ears with distractions. At sea, however, there was time to be alone with his thoughts, and the even, patient roll of waves and the slow movement of the sky made those thoughts long and deep.
Their evening meal had been simple, a hearty bean soup and thick slices of dark, rich bread, and they sat on the benches around the plain table after they had eaten, talking idly and
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awaiting the arrival of the captain, who had promised to join them as soon as he had secured his ship.
The half-grown wolf lay under the table near where Ce’Nedra sat, and his eyes had a studied, pleading look in them. Ce’Nedra slipped him tidbits when she thought no one was watching her. Wolves are not stupid, after all.
“The surf seems to be heavy,” Zakath said, cocking his head to one side to listen to the booming of the waves against the rocks of the reef. ‘ ‘That’s likely to cause some problems when we try to land, isn’t it?”
‘ ‘I rather doubt it,” Belgarath said. ‘ ‘This storm has probably been brewing since the day the earth was made. It’s not going to interfere with us in any way,”
“Aren’t you being just a little fatalistic, Belgarath?” Beldin suggested. “And perhaps slightly overconfident?”
“I don’t think so. The two prophecies must have this meeting. They’ve been coming toward this place since the beginning of time. They’re not going to let anything interfere with the arrival of anyone who’s supposed to be here.”
“Why raise a storm like this, then?”
“The storm wasn’t designed to hinder us—or Zandramas.”
“What is its purpose?”
“It’s probably out there to keep others away. There are only certain people who are supposed to be on that reef tomorrow. The prophecies are going to see to it that no one else can set foot on it until after our business has been completed.”
Garion looked at Cyradis. The blindfolded girl’s face was calm, even serene. The half concealment of the strip of cloth across her eyes had always at least partially concealed her features from him. In this light, however, he suddenly realized just how extraordinarily beautiful she really was.’ ‘That raises something rather interesting, Grandfather,” he said. “Cyradis, didn’t you tell us that the Child of Dark has always been solitary? Doesn’t that mean that she’ll have to face us alone tomorrow?”
“Thou hast misread my meaning, Belgarion of Riva. Thou and each of thy companions have had your names writ large in the stars since the beginning of days. Those who will accompany the Child of Dark, however, are of no moment. Their names do not stand in the book of the heavens. Zandramas is the only emissary of the dark prophecy of any significance. The others she will bring with her were doubtless chosen at random, and their numbers are limited to match your force.”
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“A fair fight, then,” Velvet murmured approvingly. “I think we can probably cope.”
“That doesn’t bode too well for me, though,” Beldin said. “Back at Rheon, you rather carefully listed the people who were supposed to come here with Garion. As I recall, my name wasn’t on the list. Do you suppose they forgot to send me an invitation?”
“Nay, gentle Beldin. Thy presence here is necessary now. Zandramas hath included in her forces one who is beyond the prophecies. Thou art here to offset that one, though in numbers only.”
“Zandramas can’t ever play a game without cheating, can she?” Silk said.
“Can you?” Velvet asked him.
“That’s different. I’m only playing for worthless counters-bits and pieces of unimportant metal. The stakes in this game are a lot higher.”
The cabin door opened, and Captain Kresca entered with several rolls of parchment under his arm. He had changed out of his doublet and now wore a tar-stained canvas sea coat and no hat. Garion saw that his short-cropped hair was as silvery as Belgarath’s, a startling contrast to his deeply tanned and weathered face. “The storm seems to be abating,” he announced. “At least around the reef it is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a storm like this.”
“I’d be surprised if you had, Captain,” Beldin told him. “As closely as we can determine, this is the first one—and probably the last—of its kind.”
“I think you’re wrong, friend,” Captain Kresca disagreed. “There’s nothing new in the way of weather in the world. It’s all happened before.”
“Just let it lie,” Belgarath said quietly to Beldin. “He’s a Melcene. He’s not really prepared for this sort of thing.”
“AH right,” the captain said, pushing their soup bowls out of the way and laying his charts on the table. “We’re here.” He pointed. “Now, which part of the reef was it you propose to land on?”