“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that, I guess.”
‘ ‘Are you sure you’re not older than Belgarath? Your memory seems to be slipping a bit, old boy.”
“Don’t belabor it, Silk. Let’s go see if we can signal that oversized barge into shore.”
The two of them started down to the edge of the water.
‘ ‘Was that arranged?” Garion asked Eriond.” Barak showing up, I mean?”
“We had a hand in it, yes,” Eriond admitted. “You’re going to need transportation back to Riva, and Barak and the others are sort of entitled to find out what happened here.”
“The others, too? Is that all right? I mean, at Rheon Cyradis said—”
“There’s no problem now.” Eriond smiled. “The Choice has been made. There are quite a number of people on their way to meet us, actually. Our mutual friend has a passion for tying up loose ends.”
“You’ve noticed that already, I see.”
The Seabird hove to on the lee side of the reef, and a longboat put out from her starboard side to glide across what seemed to Garion to be a molten stretch of water made golden by the setting sun. They all went down to the shore to join Silk and Beldin as (he longboat ran smoothly toward the shore of the reef.
“What kept you?” Silk called across the intervening water to Barak, who stood, his beard aflame in the light of the setting sun, in the prow of the boat.
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Barak was grinning broadly. “How did things turn out?” he shouted.
“Quite well, actually,” Silk called back. Then he seemed to think of something. “Sorry, Cyradis,” he said to the Seeress. “That was insensitive of me, wasn’t it?”
“Not entirely, Prince Kheldar. My companion’s sacrifice was made willingly, and methinks his spirit doth rejoice in our success even as we do.”
They were all in the boat with Barak, Garion saw. Mandor-allen’s armor gleamed just behind the huge Cherek. Hettar, lean and whiplike, was there, and Lelldorin, and even Relg. Barak’s son Unrak was chained in the stern. Unrak had grown, but the restraints upon him were puzzling.
Barak placed one huge foot on the gunwale, preparing to leap from the boat.
“Careful,” Silk told him. “It’s deep right there. There are a fair number of Grolims who found that out the hard way.”
“Did you throw them out into the water?” Barak asked.
“No. They volunteered.”
The longboat’s keel grated on the wave-eroded stones of the amphitheater, and Barak and the others clambered out. “Did we miss very much?” the big man asked.
“Not really,” Silk replied with a shrug. “It was just your average, run-of-the-mill saving of the universe. You know how those things are. Is your son in trouble?” Silk looked at Unrak, who seemed a bit crestfallen in his chains.
“Not exactly that,” Barak replied. “Along about noon, he turned into a bear, that’s all. We sort of thought it was significant.”
“It runs in your family, I see. But why chain him now?”
‘ “The sailors refused to get into the longboat with him until we did.”
“I didn’t follow that at all,” Zakath murmured to Garion.
“It’s a hereditary sort of thing,” Garion explained. “Barak’s family members are the protectors of the Rivan King. When the situation demands it, they turn into bears. Barak did it several times when I was in danger. It appears that he passed it on to Unrak—his son.”
“Unrak’s your protector now? He seems a little young, and you don’t really need that much protection.”
“No. He’s probably Geran’s protector, and Geran was in a certain amount of danger back there in the grotto.”
“Gentlemen,” Ce’Nedra said then in a triumphant voice,
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“may I introduce the Crown Prince of Riva?” She held Geran up so that they could see him.
‘ ‘He’s going to forget how to walk if she doesn’t put him down one of these days,” Beldin muttered to Belgarath.
“Her arms should start getting tired before too much longer,” Belgarath said.
Barak and the others crowded around the little queen even as the sailors who had been rowing reluctantly removed the chains from Barak’s son.
“Unrak!” Barak roared, “Come here!”
“Yes, father.” The boy stepped out of the boat and came forward.
“This young fellow is your responsibility,” Barak told him, pointing at Geran. “I’ll be very cross if you let anything happen to him.”
Unrak bowed to Ce’Nedra. “Your Majesty,” he greeted her, “you’re looking well.”
“Thank you, Unrak.” She smiled.
“May I?” Unrak asked, holding out his arm toward Geran. “His Highness and I should probably get to know each other.”
“Of course,” Ce’Nedra said, giving her son to the youthful Cherek.
“We’ve missed you, your Highness.” Unrak grinned at the little boy he held in his arms. “The next time you plan one of these extended trips, you should let us know. We were a little worried.”
Geran giggled. Then he reached out and tugged on Unrak’s scarcely fledged red beard.
Unrak winced.
Ce’Nedra embraced each of their old friends in turn, bestowing kisses at random. Mandorallen, of course, was weeping openly, too choked up to even deliver a flowery greeting, and Lelldorin was in virtually the same condition. Relg, peculiarly, did not even shrink from the Rivan Queen’s embrace. Relg, it appeared, had undergone certain philosophical modifications during the years of his marriage to Taiba.
“There seem to be a few strangers here,” Hettar noted in his quiet voice.
Silk smacked his forehead with an open palm. “How remiss of me,” he said. “How could I have been so forgetful? This is Lady Poledra, Belgarath’s wife and Polgara’s mother. The rumors about her demise appear to have been exaggerations.”
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“Will you be serious?” Belgarath muttered as their friends greeted the tawny-haired woman with a certain awe.
“Not a chance,” Silk said roguishly. “I’m having too much fun with this, and I’m just starling to get wanned up. Please, gentlemen,” he said to their friends, “let me get on with this. Otherwise the introductions are likely to last until midnight. This is Sadi. You should remember him—Chief Eunuch in the palace of Queen Salmissra.”
‘”Formerly Chief Eunuch, Kheldar,” Sadi corrected. “My Lords.” He bowed.
“Your Excellency,” Hettar replied. “I’m sure there’ll be all sorts of explanations later.”
“You all remember Cyradis, of course,” Silk went on, “the Holy Seeress of Kell. She’s a little tired just now. She had to make a fairly important decision about noon today.”
“Where’s that big fellow who was with you at Rheon, Cyradis?” Barak asked her.
“Alas, my Lord of Trellheim,” she said. “My guide and protector gave up his life to insure our success.”
“I’m deeply sorry,” Barak said simply.
“And this, of course,” Silk said in an offhand voice, “is his Imperial Majesty, Kal Zakath of Mallorea. He’s been rather helpful from time to time.”
Garion’s friends looked at Zakath warily, their eyes filled with surprise.
“I’d assume that we can set aside certain unpleasantnesses from the past,” Zakath said urbanely. “Garion and I have more or less resolved our differences.’?
“It pleaseth me, your Imperial Majesty,” Mandorallen said with a creaking bow, “to have lived to see near-universal peace restored to all the world.”
“Thy reputation, the marvel of the known world, hath preceded thee, my Lord of Mandor,” Zakath replied in an almost perfect Mimbrate dialect. “I do perceive now, however, that reputation is but a poor shade of the stupendous reality.”
Mandorallen beamed.
“You’ll do just fine,” Hettar murmured to Zakath.
Zakath grinned at him. Then he looked at Barak. “The next time you see Anheg, my Lord of Trellheim, tell him that I’m still going to send him a bill for all those ships of mine he sank in the Sea of the East after Thull Mardu. I think some reparations might be in order.”
“I wish you all the luck in the world, your Majesty—” Barak
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grinned “—but I think you’ll find that Anheg’s very reluctant to ; open the doors of his treasury.”
“Never mind,” Garion said quietly to Lelldorin, who had drawn himself up, pale-faced and furious at the mention of Zakath’s name.
“But—”
;, “It wasn’t his fault,” Garion said. “Your cousin was killed in a battle. Those things happen, and there’s no point in holding grudges. That’s what’s kept things stirred up in Arendia for the last twenty-five hundred years.”
“And I’m sure you all recognize Eriond—formerly Errand,” Silk said once again hi a deliberately offhand manner,’ ‘the new ‘( God of Angarak.”
“The whatV Barak exclaimed.
“You really should try to keep abreast of things, my dear Barak,” Silk said, buffing his nails on the front of his tunic. ; “Silk,” Eriond said reprovingly.
“I’m sorry.” Silk grinned. “I couldn’t resist. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me, your Divinityship? ” He frowned. ‘ ‘That’s really very cumbersome, you know. What is the correct form of address?”