“Kheldar!” It was a ringing shout, and it came from the far end of the throne room. King Urgit bolted down the steps of the dais, flinging his crown over one shoulder as he ran. He caught Silk in a rough embrace, laughing uncontrollably. “I thought you were dead,” he crowed.
“You’re looking well, Urgit,” Silk said to him.
Urgit made a slight face. “I’m married now, you know,” he said.
“I was afraid Praia might get you eventually. I’m getting married myself shortly.”
“The blond girl? Praia told me about how she felt about you. Imagine that, the invincible Prince Kheldar, married at last.”
“Don’t make any large wagers on it just yet, Urgit,” Silk told his brother. “I may still decide to fall on my sword instead. Are we sort of alone here? WeVe got some things to tell you, and our time’s a bit short.”
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“Mother and Praia are here,” Urgittold him, “and my stepfather here, of course.”
‘ ‘Stepfather? ” Silk exclaimed, looking at Oskatat in surprise.
“Mother was getting lonely. She missed all the playful abuse Taur Urgas used to bestow on her. I used my influence to marry her off to Oskatat. I’m afraid he’s been a terrible disappointment to her, though. So far as I know, he hasn’t knocked her down a single flight of stairs or kicked her in the head even once.”
“He’s impossible when he’s like this,” Oskatat apologized for his king.
“Just brimming over with good spirits, Oskatat.” Urgit laughed. “By Tbrak’s boiling eye, I’ve missed you, Kheldar.” Then he greeted Garion and Belgarath and looked inquiringly at Barak, Mandorallen, and Hettar.
“Barak, Earl of Trellheim,” Silk introduced the red-bearded giant.
“He’s even bigger than they say he is,” Urgit noted.
“Sir Mandorallen, Baron of Vo Mandor,” Silk went on.
“The Gods’ own definition of the word ‘gentleman,’ ” Urgit said.
“And Hettar, son of King Cho-Hag of Algaria.”
Urgit shrank away, his eyes suddenly fearful. Even Oskatat took a step backward.
“Not to worry, Urgit,” Silk said grandly. “Hettar came all the way through the streets of your capital, and he didn’t kill even one of your subjects.”
“Remarkable,” Urgit murmured nervously. “You’ve changed, Lord Hettar,” he said. “You’re reputed to.be a thousand feet tall and to wear a necklace of Murgo skulls.”
“I’m on vacation,” Hettar said dryly.
Urgit grinned. “We aren’t going to be unpleasant to each other, are we?” he asked, still slightly apprehensive.
“No, your Majesty,” Hettar told him, “I don’t think we are. For some reason, you intrigue me.”
“That’s a relief,” Urgit said. “If you find yourself getting edgy, though, be sure to let me know. There are still a dozen or so of my father’s generals lurking about the Drojim. Oskatat hasn’t found a reason to have them beheaded yet. I’ll send for them, and you can settle your nerves. They’re just a bother to me anyway.” He frowned. “I wish I’d known you were coming,” he said. “I’ve wanted to send your father a present for years now.”
Hettar looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
“He did me the greatest service any man can ever do for another. He ran his saber through Taur Urgas’ guts. You might tell him that I tidied up for him afterward.”
“Oh? My father doesn’t usually need to be tidied up after.”
“Oh, Taur Urgas was dead enough all right,” Urgit assured
him, “but I didn’t want some Grolim to come along and acci-
, dentally resurrect him, so I cut his throat before we buried him.’ *
“Cuthis throat?” Even Hettar seemed startled by that.
“From ear to ear,” Urgit said happily. “I stole a little knife when I was about ten, and I spent the next several years sharpening it. After I slit his weasand, I drove a stake through his heart and buried him seventeen feet deep—head down. He looked better than he had in years with just his feet sticking up out of the dirt. I paused to enjoy that sight while I was resting from all the shoveling.”
“You buried him yourself?” Barak asked.
“I certainly wasn’t going to let anybody else do it. I wanted to be sure of him. After I had him well planted, I stampeded horses across his grave several times to conceal the spot. As you may have guessed, my father and I were not on the best of terms. I take some pleasure in knowing that not a single living Murgo knows exactly where he’s buried. Why don’t we go join my queen and my mother? Then you can tell me your splendid news—whatever it is. Dare I hope that Kal Zakath rests in the arms of Torak?”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“Pity,” Urgit said.
As soon as they found out that Polgara, Ce’Nedra, and Velvet were still on board Seabird, Queen Praia and Queen Mother Tamazin excused themselves and left the throne room to renew old acquaintances.
“Find seats, gentlemen,” Urgit said after they had left. He sprawled on his throne with one leg cocked up over the arm. “What are these things you wanted to tell me, Kheldar?”
Silk sat down on the edge of the dais and reached inside his tunic.
“Please don’t do that, Kheldar,” Urgit told him, shying away. “I know how many daggers you carry.”
“Not a dagger this time, Urgit,” Silk assured him. “Only this.” He handed over a folded parchment packet.
Urgit opened it and scanned it quickly. “Who’s Oldorin of Perivor?” he asked.
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‘ ‘He’s the king of an island off the south coast of Mallorea,” Garion told him. “A group of us met in his palace.”
“Quite a group, I see,” Urgit said, looking over the signatures. He frowned. “I also see that you spoke for me,” he said to Silk.
“He protected your interests rather well, Urgit,” Belgarath assured him. “The details we hammered out are mostly generalities, you’ll notice, but it’s a start.”
“It is indeed, Belgarath,” Urgit agreed. “I notice that no one spoke for Drosta.”
“The King of Gar og Nadrak was unrepresented, your Majesty,” Mandorallen told him.
“Poor old Drosta.” Urgit chuckled. “He always seems to get left out. This is all very nice, gentlemen, and it might even insure a decade or so of peace—provided you promised to let Zakath have my head on a plate to decorate some unimportant room in his palace at Mal Zeth with.”
“That’s the main thing we came to discuss with you,” Silk told him. “Zakath returned to Mal Zeth when we all left Peri-vor, but I talked with him for quite a while before we separated, and he finally agreed to accept peace overtures.”
“Peace?” Urgit scoffed. “The only peace Zakath wants is eternal peace—for every living Murgo, and I’m at the top of his list.”
“He’s changed a bit,” Garion told him. “He has something more important on his mind right now than exterminating Mur-gos.”
“Nonsense, Garion. Everybody wants to exterminate the Murgos. Even / want to exterminate them, and I’m their king.”
“Send some ambassadors to Mal Zeth,” Silk advised him. “Give them enough power to negotiate in good faith.”
‘ ‘Give a Murgo power? Kheldar, are you out of your mind?’ *
“I can find some trustworthy men, Urgit,” Oskatat assured him.
“In Cthol Murgos? Where? Under some damp rock?”
“You’re going to have to start trusting people, Urgit,” Belgarath told him.
“Oh, of course, Belgarath,” Urgit said with heavy sarcasm. “I sort of have to trust you, but that’s because you’ll turn me into a frog if I don’t.”
“Just send your ambassadors to Mal Zeth, Urgit,” Silk said patiently. “You may be pleasantly surprised at the outcome.”
“Any outcome that doesn’t leave me without my head would
be pleasant.” Urgit squinted shrewdly at his brother. “YouVe got something else on your mind, Kheldar,” he said. “Go ahead and spit it out.”
“The world’s right on the verge of breaking out in a bad case of peace,” Silk told him. “My partner and I have been on a wartime footing for years now. Our enterprises are very likely to collapse if we don’t find new markets—and markets for peacetime goods. Cthol Murgos has been at war for a generation now.”
“Longer than that, actually. Technically, weVe been at war since the ascension of the Urga Dynasty—which I have the distinct displeasure of representing.”
“There must be quite a hunger for peacetime amenities in your kingdom then—little things, like roofs for the houses, pots to cook in, something to cook in them—things tike that.”
“I’d imagine so, yes.”
“Good. Yarblek and I can ship goods to Cthol Murgos by sea and turn Rak Urga into the largest commercial center on the southern half of the continent.”
“Why would you want to? Cthol Murgos is bankrupt.”
“The bottomless mines are still there, aren’t they?”
“Of course, but they’re all in territories controlled by the Malloreans.”