“Not really, Urgit. The only reason for power is to be able to use it to destroy your enemies, and it’s particularly enjoyable to be able to drag them down from a height before you destroy them. Wouldn’t you like to be present when the mighty Kal Zakath dies with a Dagashi knife in his heart?”
“Not really. I just want him out of the way. I don’t particularly want to watch the procedure.”
“You have not yet learned the true meaning of power, then. The understanding may come when you and I stand in the presence of Cthrag Sardius and witness the rebirth of the Dark God and the final triumph of the Child of Dark.”
Urgit’s expression grew pained.
“Do not flinch from your destiny, Urgit,” Agachak said in his hollow voice. “It is foretold that a King of Angarak will be present at the final meeting. You will be that king— just as I will be the one to make the sacrifice and thus become the first disciple of the reborn God. We are bound together by a chain forged of fate. Your destiny is to become Overking of Angarak, and mine is to rule the Church.” ‘ – Urgit sighed in resignation. “Whatever you say, Agachak,” he said disconsolately. “We still have a few problems to overcome, however.”
“They are of little concern to me,” the Hierarch declared.
“Well, they do concern me,” Urgit said with surprising heat. “First we have to deal with Zakath, and then we’ll need to get rid of Gethel and Drosta—just to be on the safe ode. I’ve been involved in a race for a throne before and I think I’d feel more confident if I were the only one running. Your problems, however, are a bit more weighty. Urvon and Zandramas are very serious opponents.”
“Urvon is a doddering old fool, and Zandramas is only a woman.”
“Agachak,” Urgit said pointedly, “Polgara is also only a woman. Would you care to face her? No, Dread Hierarch, I think that Urvon doesn’t dodder as much as you think, and Zandramas is probably more dangerous than you’d like to believe. She’s managed to spirit away Belgarion’s son, and that was no mean trick. She’s also slipped past you and all the other Hierarchs as if you weren’t even here. Let’s neither of us take any of this too lightly.”
“I know where Zandramas is,” Agachak said with a chill smile, “and I will wrest Belgarion’s son from her at the proper time. It is foretold that you and I and the babe who is to be sacrificed will come into the presence of the Sardion at the appointed time. There I will perform the sacrifice, and you will witness the rite, and we shall both be exalted. It is so written.”
“Depending on how you read it,” Urgit added morosely.
Garion moved to Ce’Nedra’s side, trying to look casual, As the meaning of what the Grolim Hierarch had just said came to her, the blood slowly drained from her face. “It’s not going to happen,” he told her in a firm, quiet voice. “Nobody’s going to do that to our baby.”
“You knew,” she accused him in a choked whisper.
“Grandfather and I found it in the Grolim Prophecies in the Temple library.”
“Oh, Garion,” she said, biting her lip to keep back the tears.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “The same Prophecy said that Torak was going to win at Cthol Mishrak. That didn’t happen, and this isn’t going to happen, either.”
“But what if—”
“There aren’t any ifs,” he said firmly. “It’s not going to happen.”
After the Hierarch had left, King Urgit’s mood changed. He sat in his chair, brooding sourly.
“Perhaps your Majesty might prefer to be left alone,” Sadi ventured.
“No, Sadi.” Urgit sighed. “No amount of worrying at it is going to change what we’ve already set in motion.” He shook his head and then shrugged as if dismissing the whole matter. “Why don’t you tell me the details of the little misdemeanor that made Salmissra so vexed with you? I adore stories of deceit and dishonesty. They always seem to hint that the world’s not really such a bad place after all.”
It was not long after, as Sadi was elaborating at some length on the involuted scheme that had caused his downfall, when the seneschal entered the room again. “A dispatch has arrived from the military governor at Cthaka, your Majesty,” he rasped.
“What does he want now?” Urgit muttered plaintively.
“He reports that the Malloreons are mounting a major campaign in the south. Rak Gorut is under siege and must inevitably fall within a week.”
“In the autumn?” Urgit exclaimed, coming up out of his chair in dismay. “They’re mounting a campaign when the summer’s already over?”
“So it appears,” Oskatat replied. “I think that Kal Zakath’s hoping to take you by surprise. Once Rak Gorut falls, there won’t be anything between his forces and Rak Cthaka.”
“And the garrison there is virtually nonexistent, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so, Urgit. Rak Cthaka will also fall, and then Zakath will have all winter to consolidate his hold on the south.”
Urgit began to swear and moved quickly to a map tacked up on the wall. “How many troops do we have up here in Morcth?” he demanded, tapping the map with one finger.
“A few score thousand. But by the time they had received the order to march south, the Malloreons would already be halfway to Rak Cthaka.”
Urgit stared in consternation at the map. Then he suddenly smashed his fist against it. “He’s outsmarted me again!” he raged. He returned to his chair and collapsed in it.
“I think I’d better go get Kradak,” Oskatat said. “The General Staff will need to know about this.”
“Whatever you think best, Oskatat,” Urgit replied in a defeated tone.
As the seneschal strode from the room, Garion crossed to look at the map. After only the briefest of glances, he saw a solution to Urgit’s problem, but he was reluctant to speak. He did not want to become involved in this. There were a dozen good reasons why he should keep his mouth shut— the most important being the fact that should he offer his solution to the Murgo King, he would in a sense be committed, and he firmly desired to avoid any commitment to the man, no matter how slight. An unresolved problem, however, nagged at his sense of responsibility; to turn his back on one—even one that was not his own—violated something deep within him. He muttered a curse under his breath, then turned to the stricken Urgit. “Excuse me, your Majesty,” he said, approaching the matter obliquely, “but how well fortified is Rak Cthaka?”
“It’s like every Murgo city,” Urgit replied abstractedly. “The walls are seventy feet high and thirty feet thick. What difference does it make?”
“The city could withstand a siege, then—if you had enough men there?”
“That’s the whole problem—I don’t.”
“Then you need to get reinforcements there before the Malloreons can reach the city.”
“What a brilliant observation. But if I can’t get relief columns there in time, how could I possibly get reinforcements there before the streets are filled with Malloreons?”
Garion shrugged. “Send them by sea.”
“By sea?” Urgit suddenly looked stunned.
“Your harbor is full of ships, and your city’s bulging with troops. Load enough men on the ships to reinforce the garrison at Rak Cthaka and sail them around to the city. Even if Rak Gorut fell tomorrow, it’s still going to take the Malloreons ten days to march overland. Your ships could be there in less than a week. Your reinforced garrison will be able to hold until the relief columns arrive.”
Urgit shook his head. “Murgo armies do not move by ship,” he said. “My generals wouldn’t hear of it.”
“You’re the king, aren’t you? Make them hear of it.”
Urgit’s face grew apprehensive. “They never listen to me.”
Garion had a sudden urge to shake him. With some effort he got his irritation under control. “There’s nothing holy about walking,” he said, “particularly if marching your men to Rak Cthaka is going to cost you the city. Tell your generals to load the men on those ships and also tell them that the matter isn’t open to discussion.”
“They’ll refuse.”
“Then dismiss them from their posts and promote a few colonels.”
Urgit stared at him, aghast. “I couldn’t do that.”
“You’re the king. You can do anything you want to.”
Urgit wrestled with it indecisively.
“Do as he says, Urgit,” Lady Tamazin commanded abruptly. “It’s the only way to save Rak Cthaka.”
He looked at her, a lost expression on his face. “Do you really think I should, mother?” he asked in a small voice.
“Just do it. As the young man said, you’re the king—and I think it’s about time that you started acting like one.”
“There’s something else we need to consider, your Majesty,” Sadi said, his face grave. “If the Malloreons lay siege to Rak Cthaka, I won’t be able to land there. I’m going to have to get past that vicinity before any fighting breaks out. Slavers can move around with very little interference, unless there’s an actual battle going on, but once the fighting starts, the Malloreons are sure to detain us. If we don’t move very quickly, your Dagashi won’t reach Rak Hagga until sometime next summer.”