King of the Murgos by David Eddings

Tamazin’s face grew even paler, and her lips were resolutely sealed.

“My Lord High Seneschal,” Velvet said to Oskatat, “just out of curiosity, how old is his Majesty?”

Oskatat’s face had also gone deadly pale. He looked at Lady Tamazin with a stricken expression, and then his lips also clamped shut.

“I’m thirty-nine,” Urgit snapped. “What difference does it—” Then he suddenly stopped, his eyes going very wide. He turned with a look of stunned incredulity. “Mother!” he gasped.

Sadi began to laugh.

“I just adore happy endings, don’t you?” Velvet said brightly to Ce’Nedra. She looked impishly at Silk. “Well, don’t just sit there, Kheldar. Go embrace your brother.”

The Lady Tamazin rose slowly from her chair, her face proud. “Summon the executioner, Oskatat,” she said. “I am ready.”

“No, my Lady,” he replied. “I won’t do that.”

“It’s the taw, Oskatat,” she insisted. “A Murgo woman who dishonors her husband is to be put to death immediately.”

“Oh, sit down, mother,” Urgit said, abstractedly gnawing at one of his knuckles. “This is no time for histrionics.”

Silk’s eyes were a bit wild. “You’re very quick, Liselle,” he said in a strained voice.

“Not really,” she admitted. “I should have guessed quite some time ago. You and his Majesty could almost use each other for shaving mirrors, and he negotiates almost as shrewdly as you do.” She looked at the stunned Murgo King, her cheeks dimpling. “If your Majesty ever grows weary of the throne, I’m certain that my uncle could find work for you.”

“This alters things quite a bit, Urgit,” Belgarath said. “The prejudices of your subjects are well known. If they find out that you’re not a real Murgo, it might agitate them just a bit, wouldn’t you say?”

Urgit had been staring at Silk. “Oh, just shut up, old man,” he said absently. “Let me think my way through this.”

“I’m sure that your Majesty realizes that you can rely totally on our discretion,” Sadi said smoothly.

“Of course,” Urgit replied dryly. “Just as long as I do exactly what you tell me to do.”

“Well, there’s that, naturally.”

Urgit looked at his seneschal. “Well, Oskatat,” he said, “will you now dash to the highest window of the Drojim to proclaim this to the entire city?”

“Why should I?” Oskatat shrugged. “I’ve known since you were a little boy that you were not the son of Taur Urgas.”

Lady Tamazin gasped, her hand going suddenly to her lips. “You’ve known, Oskatat? And you’ve kept my shame a secret?”

“My Lady,” he said with a stiff bow, “I would not have betrayed you even on the rack.”

She gave him a peculiar look. “And why is that, Oskatat?” she asked gently.

“You are of the House of Hagga,” he replied, “as am I. Loyalty to blood is very strong in Cthol Murgos.”

“And is that all, Oskatat? Is that the only reason you befriended me and protected my son?”

He looked her full in the face. “No, my Lady,” he said almost proudly, “it is not.”

She lowered her eyelashes.

“There were other reasons for my keeping your secret, however,” he continued, “less personal, perhaps, but just as compelling. The Urga Dynasty has brought Cthol Murgos to the brink of disaster. I saw in young Urgit the best hope for the kingdom. I might have wished him to be stronger, but his agility of mind showed much promise. In the long run a clever king is often preferable to a strong one without any brains.”

Belgarath rose from his chair. “I hate to break up these festivities,” he said, “but it’s time for us to leave. Too many secrets are starting to come out into the open.” He looked at Urgit. “Did you send that messenger to the Temple? If Agachak’s Dagashi wants to go along with us, he’s going to have to get down to the harbor at once.”

Urgit started to rise from his chair, his face angry. Then he stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Just who are you, old man?” he demanded. “You look like a vagabond, but you’ve been throwing commands around here like an emperor.”

Lady Tamazin, however, had been looking at Belgarath with eyes suddenly gone wide. Then she turned to stare in awe at Aunt Pol. “Urgit!” she said in a half-strangled whisper.

“What is it, mother?”

“Look at him. Look very closely—and then look at his daughter here.”

“His daughter? I didn’t know they were related.”

“Neither did I—until just now.” The Queen Mother looked directly at Polgara.’ ‘He is your father, isn’t he, Lady Polgara?”

Polgara straightened, and the white lock at her brow caught the candlelight. “I think this has gone far enough, father,” she said to the old man with a wry expression. “There’s not much point in trying to hide things any more, is there?”

“Old friend,” Silk said lightly, “you really ought to do something about your appearance, you know. Your description’s been noised about the world for all these centuries, so people are bound to recognize you every so often. Have you ever considered shaving off your beard?”

Urgit was staring at the old man with an expression of near-terror.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Belgarath said in disgust.

Urgit flinched.

“And don’t do that either. No matter what you’ve been told, I don’t make a practice of biting off the heads of Murgo babies just for amusement.” He tugged thoughtfully at one ear, looking first at Urgit, then at Lady Tamazin, and finally at Oskatat and Praia. “I think there’s going to have to be a small change of plans,” he said. “I believe that you people are all going to develop an irresistible craving for sea-travel—just as a precaution. You have some secrets you want kept, and so do we. This way we can sort of keep an eye on each other.”

“You’re not serious!” Urgit burst out.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I don’t like leaving loose ends behind me.”

The door opened, and Garion spun quickly, but stopped his hand halfway to his sword hilt. The Murgo officer who had just entered looked curiously at the people in the room, sensing the tension. “Uh—excuse me, your Majesty,” he said a bit warily.

Urgit looked at him, a swift flash of hope fleeting across his face. Then he cast a quick, fearful glance at Belgarath. “Yes, Colonel,” he replied in a carefully neutral voice.

“A message has just arrived from the Hierarch, your Majesty. I am directed to advise you that the Dagashi Kabach will be at the harbor within the hour.”

Durnik and Toth, moving in unison, had carefully sidled up until one of them stood on each side of Oskatat, and Polgara had crossed to Lady Tamazin’s chair.

Urgit’s face was faintly sick with fright. “Very good, Colonel,” he replied. “Thank you for your trouble.”

The officer bowed and then turned toward the door.

“Colonel,” Praia’s clear voice stopped him.

He turned back, his face respectful. “Yes, Princess?”

Velvet was moving toward the Murgo girl with a deceptive casualness. Garion inwardly flinched at the potential for sudden, awful violence that hung heavily in the air—even as he measured the distance to the unsuspecting colonel.

“Have you had any reports about the weather conditions along the coast to the south?” Praia asked calmly.

“There’s some wind, your Highness,” the colonel replied, “and there are almost always rain squalls around the tip of the peninsula.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

He bowed and quietly left the room.

Garion let out his breath explosively.

“Lord Belgarath.” Praia’s voice was crisp. “You cannot expose the Lady Tamazin to that kind of weather. I will not permit it.”

Belgarath blinked. “Will not permit?” he asked incredulously.

“Absolutely not. If you persist, I’ll scream the roof down.” She turned coolly to Velvet. “Don’t come one step closer, Liselle,” she warned. “I can scream at least twice before you can kill me, and that will bring every guard in the Drojim to this room on the run.”

“She’s right, you know, father,” Polgara said very calmly. “Tamazin could not possibly endure the rigors of the voyage.”

“Couldn’t we—”

“No, father,” she said firmly, “it’s absolutely out of the question.”

He muttered a sour curse and jerked his head at Sadi. The two of them moved down to the far end of the room for a brief, murmured conversation.

“You’ve got a knife under your doublet, haven’t you, Kheldar?” Urgit asked.

“Two, actually,” Silk replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “and one in my boot and another on a string at the back of my neck. I like to be prepared for little emergencies when they arise—but why dwell on an unpleasantness that never happened?”

“You’re a dreadful man, Kheldar.”

“I know.”

Belgarath came back from his low-voiced conference with Sadi, “Lady Tamazin,” he said.

The Queen Mother’s chin lifted. “Yes?” she replied.

“Under the circumstances, I believe we can rely on your discretion,” he said. “You’ve already proved that you know how to keep a secret. You do realize that your life—and your son’s—depends on your not revealing what you’ve learned here, don’t you?”

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