“This is all well and good,” Barak rumbled. “But could we possibly skip over what’s happening back home and get down to the real story? I’m dying of curiosity.”
And so they began. No attempt to gloss things over was permitted. Every detail was savored.
“Did you really do that?” Lelldorin asked Garion at one point after Silk had luridly described their first encounter with Zandramas, who had assumed the form of the dragon in the hills above the Arendish plain.
“Well,” Garion replied modestly, “not her whole tail, only about four feet of it. It seemed to get her attention, though.”
“When he gets home, our splendid hero here is going to look into die career opportunities available in the field of dragon-molesting. ” Silk laughed.
‘ ‘But there aren’t any more dragons, Kheldar,” Velvet pointed out.
“Oh, that’s all right, Liselle.” He grinned. “Maybe Eriond can make a few for him.”
“Never mind,” Garion told him.
Then, at a certain point in the narrative, they all had to see
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Zith, and Sadi rather proudly displayed his little green snake and her wriggling brood.
“She doesn’t look all that dangerous to me,” Barak grunted.
“Go tell that to Harakan.” Silk grinned. “Liselle threw the little dear into his face at Ashaba. Zith nipped him a few times and absolutely petrified him.”
“Was he dead?” the big man asked.
“I’ve never seen anybody any deader.”
‘ ‘You’re getting ahead of the story,” Hettar eluded.
“There’s no way we’re going to be able to tell you about everything that happened in one morning, Hettar,” Durnik said.
“That’s all right, Durnik,” Barak said. “It’s a long way back home. We’ll have plenty of time at sea.”
That afternoon, by more or less popular demand, Beldin was obliged to repeat the performance he had given prior to their departure for the reef. Then, simply to demonstrate some of the gifts of his companions, Garion suggested that they adjourn to the tournament grounds to give them more room. Lelldorin showed the king and his court some of the finer points of archery, culminating the demonstration by showing them an entirely new way to pick plums from a distant tree. Barak bent an iron bar into something resembling a pretzel, and Hettar put them into a state verging on stunned amazement by a dazzling display of horsemanship. The culmination of the affair did not come off too well, however. When Relg walked through a solid stone wall, many ladies fainted, and some of the younger members of the audience fled screaming.
“They don’t seem to be ready for that yet,” Silk said. Silk had resolutely turned his back when Relg had approached the wall. “I know I’m not,” he added.
About noon a few days later, two ships entered the harbor from different directions. One of the ships was a familiar Cherek war boat, and General Atesca and Bureau Chief Brador disembarked from the other. Greldik led King Anheg and Emperor Varana down the gangway of the war boat.
‘ ‘Barak!” Anheg roared as he came down the gangway. ‘ ‘Can you think of any reason I shouldn’t take you back to Val Alorn in chains?”
“Testy, isn’t he?” Hettar observed to the red-bearded man.
“He’ll calm down after I get him drunk.” Barak shrugged.
“I^n sorry, Garion,” Anheg said in a booming voice. “Varana and I tried to catch him, but that big scow of his moves faster than we thought.”
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“Scow?” Barak protested mildly.
“It’s all right, Anheg,” Garion replied. “They didn’t arrive until after everything was finished.”
“You got your son back, then?”
“Yes.”
“Well, trot him out, boy. We all invested a lot of effort in trying to find him for you.”
Ce’Nedra came forward carrying Geran, and Anheg enfolded them both in a bear hug. “Your Majesty,” he greeted the Rivan Queen, “and you, your Highness.” He grinned and tickled the little boy. Geran giggled.
Ce’Nedra tried a curtsy.
“Don’t do that, Ce’Nedra,” Anheg told her. “You’ll drop the baby.”
Ce’Nedra laughed and then smiled at Emperor Varana. “Uncle,” she said.
“Ce’Nedra,” the silvery-haired emperor replied. “You’re looking well.” He squinted at her. “Is it my imagination, or are you putting on a little weight?”
“It’s just temporary, uncle,” she replied. “I’ll explain later.”
Brador and Atesca approached Zakath. “Why, your Imperial Majesty,” Atesca said to his emperor in feigned surprise. “Imagine meeting you here—of all places.”
“General Atesca,” Zakath said to him, “don’t we know each other well enough to ignore these subterfuges?”
“We were worried about you, your Majesty,” Brador said. “Since we were in the vicinity anyway . . .” The bald man spread his hands.
“And just what were you two doing in this vicinity? Didn’t I leave you back on the banks of the Magan?”
“Something came up, your Majesty,” Atesca put in. “Ur-von’s army fell all apart, and the Darshivans seemed to be distracted. Brador and I seized the opportunity to bring Peldane and Darshiva back into the empire, and weVe been pursuing the remnants of the Darshivan army all over eastern Dalasia.”
“Very good, gentlemen,” Zakath approved. “Very, very good. I should take a vacation more often.”
“Tfcis was his idea of a vacation?” Sadi murmured.
“Of course,” Silk replied. “Fighting dragons can be very invigorating.”
Zakath and Varana had been eyeing each other speculatively.
“Your Imperial Majesties,” Garion said politely, “I should probably introduce you. Emperor Varana, this is his Imperial
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Majesty, Kal Zakath of Mallorea. Emperor Zakath, this is his Imperial Majesty, Ran Borune XXTV of the Tolnedran Empire.”
“Just Varana will do, Garion,” the Tolnedran said. “We’ve all heard a lot about you, Kal Zakath,” he said, extending his hand.
“None of it good, I’m sure, Varana.” Zakath smiled, shaking the other emperor’s hand warmly.
“Rumors are seldom accurate, Zakath.”
“We have much to discuss, your Imperial Majesty,” Zakath said.
“Indeed we do, your Imperial Majesty.”
King Oldorin of Perivor appeared to be in a state verging on nervous prostration. His island kingdom, it seemed, was quite suddenly awash with royalty. Garion made the introductions as gently and, he hoped, as painlessly as possible. King Oldorin mumbled a few greetings, almost forgetting his thees and thous. Garion drew him to one side. “This is a momentous occasion, your Majesty,” he said. “The presence in one place of Zakath of Mallorea, Varana of Tolnedra, and Anheg of Cherek doth presage the possibility of tremendous steps toward that universal peace for which the world hath longed for eons. *’
“Thine own presence doth not diminish the occasion, Bel-garion of Riva.”
Garion bowed his acknowledgment. “Though the courtesy and hospitality of thy court are the marvel of the known world, your Majesty,” he said, “it were foolish of us not to seize this opportunity in so noble a cause. Thus I implore thee that my friends and I may closet separately for some time to explore the possibilities of this chance meeting, although it seemeth to me that chance hath had but small part in this coming to pass. Surely the Gods themselves have had a hand in it.”
“I am certain of it, your Majesty,” Oldorin agreed. “There are council chambers on the topmost floor of my palace, King Belgarion. They are at the immediate disposal of thyself and thy royal friends. I have no doubt that momentous things may emerge from this meeting, and the honor I shall accrue that it is to take place beneath my roof doth overwhelm me quite.”
It was an impromptu meeting that was held in the upper chambers of the palace. Belgarath, by common consent, presided. Garion agreed to look after the interests of Queen Porenn, and Durnik to those of King Fulrach. Relg spoke for Ulgo—and Maragor. Mandorallen represented Arendia, and Hettar spoke
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for his father. Silk stood in for his brother, Urgit. Sadi spoke for Salmissra, and Nathel spoke for the Thulls, although very seldom. No one was particularly interested in taking the part of Drosta lek Thun of Gar og Nadrak.
Right at the outset there was, to Varana’s obvious disappointment, an agreement that matters of trade be excluded from the discussion, and then they got down to business.
About midway through the second day, Garion leaned back in his chair, only half listening as Silk and Zakath haggled incessantly over a peace treaty between Mallorea and Cthol Mur-gos. Garion sighed pensively. Only a few days ago, he and his friends had witnessed—and participated in—the most momentous Event in the history of the universe, and now they sat around a table deeply involved in the mundane matters of international politics. It seemed so anticlimacttc somehow, and yet Garion knew that most of the people in the world would be tar more concerned about what happened around this table than what had happened at Korim—for a while, anyway.
Finally, the Accords of Dal Perivor were reached. They were tentative, to be sure, and couched in broad generalities. They were subject, of course, to ratification by those monarchs not actually present. They were tenuous and based more qn goodwill than on the rough give-and-take of true political negotiation. They were nonetheless, Garion felt, the last, best hope of mankind. Scribes were summoned to copy from Beldin’s copious notes, and it was decided that the document should be issued over the seal of King Oldorin of Perivor as host monarch.