Urgit’s eyes took on a strange light. He leaned forward, tugging absently at his nose. “I might be able to see my way clear to pay you ten—or so,” he countered. “I don’t really have all that much Tolnedran coin in my vaults.”
“Oh, that’s all right, your Majesty,” Silk said magnanimously. “I’d be willing to accept Angarak coins—at a slight discount, of course.”
“Discount?”
“Angarak gold is obviously adulterated, King Urgit. That’s why it’s red instead of yellow.”
Urgit eyed him narrowly. “Why don’t you draw up a chair, old boy?” he suggested. “This might take a while.” Strangely enough, his nose had also begun to twitch.
What followed was a display of astonishing virtuosity on the part of both negotiators. Garion had seen Silk in this sort of situation many times before and had always believed that his sharp-nosed friend was without peer when it came to getting the best of every bargain he struck. Urgit, however, quickly demonstrated that he too was an expert at the game. When Silk pointed out in suitably exaggerated terms the dangers he would have to face on his way to deliver the message, Urgit countered by offering an escort of Murgo soldiers rather than increased compensation. Silk dropped that line of attack and concentrated for a time on the unusual expenses he would incur—fresh horses, food and lodging, bribes and the like. In each case the Murgo King proposed assistance rather than money—horses, food and lodging at Murgo embassies or trade missions, and the good offices of Murgo officials to step around the necessity for bribes. Silk made some pretense at considering that, his watchful eyes never leaving his adversary’s face. Then he fell back to his previously prepared position, re-emphasizing his friendship with the Rivan King and the fact that he, perhaps better than any man in the world, could present the proposed alliance to Belgarion in the most favorable light. “After all,” he concluded, “what it finally comes down to is how much the alliance is worth to you, doesn’t it?”
“It’s worth a very great deal,” Urgit admitted with deceptive candor, “but, although I’d be the first to admit that you’re probably the perfect messenger, there’s no guarantee that Belgarion will agree to an alliance, now is there?” He paused, his expression announcing that a notion had just struck him. “I’ll tell you what,” he said then with an artfully feigned enthusiasm, “why don’t we set a relatively modest figure for the actual delivery of the message—oh, let’s say the ten marks I suggested previously.”
Silk’s face grew flinty, but Urgit lifted one hand. “Hear me out, your Highness,” he said. “As I just suggested, we agree on that figure as payment for carrying the message. Then, if Belgarion agrees to an alliance, I’d be more than happy to pay you the rest of the money you asked for.”
“That’s hardly fair, your Majesty,” Silk protested. “You’re putting the entire question into the hands of a third party. I can guarantee delivery, but not acceptance. Belgarion is a sovereign king. I can’t tell him what to do, and I have no way of knowing how he would react to your proposal.”
“Didn’t you say that you were his oldest friend? Surely you know him well enough to have at least some idea of how he would view the matter.”
“You’re shifting the entire basis of the negotiations, your Majesty,” Silk accused him.
“Yes, I know.” Urgit smirked.
“The payment for actually cementing an alliance between you and Belgarion would have to be much, much higher,” Silk countered. “What you propose is extremely hazardous, after all.”
“Hazardous? I don’t follow you, old boy.”
“Belgarion is not entirely a free agent. Even though he’s the Overlord of the West, he’s still answerable to the other kings—particularly the Alorns; and let’s be honest about it, Alorns despise Murgos. If I persuade him to accept an alliance with you, those other Alorn Kings might very well believe that I’m a traitor. I could find myself dodging their assassins for the rest of my life.”
“I find that very hard to believe, Kheldar.”
“You don’t know them. The Alorns are a fearfully unforgiving race. Even my aunt would give orders to have me hunted down if she thought that I’d betrayed a basic Alorn concept of the world. What you propose is absolutely out of the question—unless we start talking about really significant amounts of money, of course.”
“Just how significant?” Urgit asked warily.
“Well now, let’s see—” Silk pretended to consider the matter. “Naturally I’d have to abandon all my enterprises in the Kingdoms of the West. If the Alorn Kings declare me an outlaw, all my assets would be expropriated anyway. My commercial ventures are far-flung, and it’s going to take some time to establish their fair value. Then, of course, I’ll have the expense of setting up operations in a part of the world where the Alorns can’t track me down.”
“That’s simplicity in itself, Kheldar. Come to Cthol Murgos. I’ll protect you.”
“No offense, your Majesty, but Cthol Murgos doesn’t suit me. I was thinking perhaps of Mal Zeth or maybe Melcene. I could probably do quite well in Melcene.”
“Silk,” Belgarath said abruptly, “what’s the point of all this?”
“I was just—”
“I know what you were doing. You can amuse yourself some other time. Right now we’ve got a ship to catch.”
“But, Belg—” Silk caught himself abruptly with a quick sidelong glance at Urgit.
“You’re not in a position to be giving orders, old man,” the Murgo King said. Then he looked around suspiciously. “There’s something going on here that I don’t like. I don’t think anybody’s going anyplace today. I’m not going to turn any of you loose until I get to the bottom of all this.”
“Don’t be absurd, Urgit,” his mother interrupted him. “These people must leave at once.”
“Don’t interfere, mother.”
“Then stop acting like a child. Sadi must get past Rak Cthaka before the fighting starts there, and Kheldar must be on his way to Belgarion within the hour. Don’t throw away this opportunity out of sheer pique.”
Their eyes locked. Urgit’s face was suddenly angry, and his mother’s unrelenting. After a long moment, his eyes dropped. “This isn’t like you, mother,” he mumbled. “Why are you deliberately trying to humiliate me in public?”
“I’m not, Urgit. I’m just trying to bring you to your Senses. A king must always bow to reality—even if it injures his pride.” ,
He gave her a long, penetrating look. “The time isn’t really all that pressing, mother,” he said. “Sadi has time to spare, and Kheldar really doesn’t have to leave for a day or so. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you have some personal reason for not wanting me to talk to them any more.”
“Nonsense!” But her face had grown quite pale.
“You’re upset, mother,” he pressed. “Why is that?”
“She can’t tell you,” Eriond said suddenly. The young man was seated on a bench in front of a nearby window with the autumn sun streaming golden on his pale hair.
“What?”
“Your mother can’t tell you,” Eriond repeated. “There’s a secret she’s had locked in her heart since before you were born.”
“No!” Lady Tamazin gasped involuntarily. “You mustn’t!”
“What is this secret?” Urgit demanded, his eyes flickering suspiciously from face to face.
A slow flush crept up Eriond’s cheeks. “I’d really rather not say,” he replied in a slightly embarrassed tone.
Velvet had been watching the exchange with wholly absorbed fascination; even as a startling suspicion dawned in Garion’s mind, she suddenly began to laugh.
“What’s so funny, young lady?” Urgit asked irritably.
“A peculiar thought just occurred to me, your Majesty,” she replied. She turned to Lady Tamazin. “Didn’t you say that you knew Prince Kheldar’s father, my Lady?”
Tamazin’s chin lifted suddenly. Her face was still deadly pale, and she did not answer.
“How long ago would you say that was?” Velvet asked.
Tamazin’s lips remained tightly closed.
Velvet sighed, then looked at Silk. “Kheldar,” she said, “quite a long time back your father visited Rak Goska, didn’t he? I think it had something to do with some trade negotiations on behalf of King Rhodar. Do you happen to recall just how many years ago that was?”
He looked puzzled. “I don’t know,” he replied. “It must have been—” He thought about it. “I remember that my mother and I stayed at the palace in Boktor while he was gone. I think I was eight or so at the time. That would make it about forty years, I guess. What’s this all about, Liselle?”
“Interesting,” she murmured, ignoring his question. “My Lady Tamazin,” she said, “you keep telling your son that he isn’t going to go mad—but doesn’t every male in the Urga line fall prey to that hereditary affliction? What is it that makes you so positive that he’s somehow going to escape the family curse?”