that statue, and Salmissra reclined on a throne that was more couch
than chair upon that dais. Before her throne there knelt several
dozen yellow-robed eunuchs who chanted slogans of adoration in
unison. The Serpent Queen was very pale, almost chalk white. She
had glossy black hair and peculiarly colorless eyes. I’ll admit that
she was beautiful, and her gauze-like gown left very little to the
imagination. She received our information with a reptilian
indifference, not even bothering to take her eyes from her mirror. ‘”Y
should I involve myself in your war with the Angaraks?’ she asked.
‘It’s not just our war, Salmissra,’ I said. ‘It
concerns all of us.
‘Not me, it doesn’t. One of my predecessors discovered the folly
of becoming involved in this private feud between the Alorns and
the Angaraks. I’m not going to make.that same mistake. Nyissa will
remain neutral.’ Her pale eyes fixed themselves on my face, and I
knew – without knowing how I knew – that one day the snake
woman and I were going to have a confrontation, and Salmissra’s
eyes clearly told me that she also knew that it was coming.
MY father totally missed that silent interchange. Women have
always had ways to communicate with each other that men can’t
begin to comprehend. Father tried to persuade Salmissra that Urvon
would obliterate Nyissa as he passed through on his way north. He
was wasting his breath, of course. Salmissra didn’t care about what
happened to Nyissa. Her only concern was herself. That was one
of the characteristics her education had hammered into her. Her
personal survival – and her personal appetites – were all that
mattered to her. I realized that, even if father didn’t, so I cast my parting
remarks to her on a personal level, suggesting that she might find
being bent backward over a blood-soaked altar while several
Grolims carved out her heart rather unpleasant.
That got her attention, even if nothing else did.
As father and I were leaving her musty-smelling palace, I asked
him a question that’d been nagging at me just a bit. ‘Have the
Nyissans compiled any kind of reference-works on their
pharmacology?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘Why?’
‘They have some very interesting herbal compounds. Salmissra
was absolutely awash with about six or eight that I could detect.’
‘Really?’ He seemed a bit surprised. ‘I thought that was just her
natural personality.’
‘It is, but she’s taking some things that enhance it. She has some
very interesting appetites. When this is all over, I might just come
down here and investigate. Some of those herbs might be very
useful.,
‘Most of them are poisonous, Pol.’
‘Lots of things are poisonous, father. An overdose of most of
the healing herbs can be fatal. Proper dosage is the key to herbal
medicine.’
‘Your reputation as a physician might start to deteriorate if you
begin experimenting with poison, Pol.’
‘-experimentation is the source of all medical advances, father.
You lose a few patients along the way, but you save more in the
long run.’
,.Sometimes you’re as cold-blooded as Salmissra is, Pol.’
,’Are you only just beginning to realize that, father? I’m
disappointed in you.’
Well of course I didn’t mean it. Sometimes I wonder about you.
*CHAPTER 31
‘That wasn’t particularly fruitful, was it, Pol?’ father grumbled as
into I left Salmissra’s gaudy palace and walked out into the rainy
streets.
‘Did you really expect her to welcome you with open arms,
father?’ I asked him. ‘You’ve never been all that popular in Nyissa,
you know.’
‘Well,’ he sighed, ‘at least she’s not going to welcome Urvon
either. Maybe that’s the best we can hope for. Let’s go to Maragor
and see if we can get Mara’s attention.’
It was winter, the rainy season in Nyissa, but the climate change
which had followed Torak’s Eclipse made it a little hard to
distinguish one rainy season from another. I absolutely hate flying in the
rain. but we didn’t really have much choice.
We followed the River of the Serpent up to the rapids near the
headwaters and then veered north to cross the mountains to haunted
Maragor’s southern frontier. We saw several of the rude mining
camps that lined Maragor’s southern frontier. I clinically noted that
there weren’t any camps north of that border. The gold-hunters
were obsessed men, but not that obsessed.
The seething rain made it difficult for us to see the rolling basin
that had been Maragor, but father knew the way, so I simply
followed him to Mar Amon. When we were just outside the ruins, he
dipped his falcon wings a couple of times, and we descended to a
grove of winter-stripped beech trees that overlooked the ruin and
resumed our own forms. ‘This isn’t going to be pleasant, Pol,’ father
said glumly. ‘Mara’s even crazier than Torak, and he’s filled Maragor
from end to end with phantoms he’s dredged up out of his own
I
insanity. You’re going to see some fairly gruesome things, I’m
afraid.’
‘I’ve heard all the stories, father.’
‘Stories are one thing, Pol. Actually seeing and hearing these
apparitions is a little more hair-raising.’
‘I can deal with it, Old Wolf.’
‘Don’t get over-confident, Pol. Crazy or not, Mara’s still a God,
and the sense of his presence is still overwhelming. The Master’s
presence is fairly gentle, but Mara tends to bowl people over just
by putting in an appearance. Did you happen to come across
Chaldan while you were in Arendia?’
‘No. Chaldan only talks to his priests – at least that’s what the
priests say.’
He nodded. ‘Priests are pretty much the same the world over.
They seem to feel that their exclusive contact with God gives them
a certain job security. If just any old peasant can talk with God, the
priests are redundant, and they might have to go out and get honest
work.’
‘You’re in a cynical humor today.’
‘Blame it on the weather. Anyway, brace yourself. Our meeting
with Mara’s likely to be moderately unpleasant. Gods hold grudges
for a long time, and Mara still blames all of us for not coming to
the aid of the Marags when the Tolnedrans invaded Maragor. I’ve
met him several times, and he knows who I am – unless he’s
forgotten me. I may have to lie to him just a bit here. We haven’t been
specifically ordered to come here, so we’re sort of doing what we
think the Master wants us to do. Just to be on the safe side, I’d
better tell Mara that we’re acting on instructions. Mara’s not crazy
enough to go up against the Master, so he won’t automatically
obliterate us. But be careful here, Pol. Don’t drop your guard, and
whatever you do, don’t let any random chunks of gold lying about
distract you. If you even so much as think about gold, Mara will
erase your mind.’
‘I’m not really that greedy, father.’
‘Really? Where did you get all the money you keep pulling out
of your sleeve when you want to buy something, then?’
‘Prudent investments, father. If you cultivate money – prune it,
water it, and fertilize it – it’ll grow for you the same as roses or
radishes will. Don’t worry, Old Wolf. I’m not really interested in
random gold.’
‘Good. Let’s go on into the city and see if I can talk some sense
into Mara.’
Mar Amon is a very disturbing sort of place, not only because of
the multitude of mutilated ghosts infesting it, but also because it’s
part reality and part illusion. Mara has in effect rebuilt the city,
replacing destroyed buildings with images of what they were before
the Tolnedrans came. The buildings are insubstantial, but you can’t
tell that by looking at them. As father and I followed that spiraling
street that wound its way toward the central temple, we saw horrors
enough to last a lifetime. The Tolnedran legionnaires are normally
paid in brass coins, so they seldom see gold. The ground of Maragor
was littered with it, and all semblance of discipline collapsed. The
legions became nothing more than a greedy, mindless mob, and
mobs commit atrocities. Mara almost lovingly recreated the victims
of those atrocities and unleashed them to forever keep Maragor
inviolate. I heartily approve of the chastisement Nedra imposed on
his more rampantly greedy worshipers after the invasion of
Maragor. A merchant prince from Tol Honeth can’t help thinking about
gold when it’s lying all about him, and greed is an open door to
insanity in Maragor. The monastery at Mar Terrin sounds like a very
nice idea, but it is, in fact, the most hideous prison on the face of
the earth. The inmates of that prison are condemned – not to death,
but to perpetual insanity.
‘BELGARATH!’ Mara’s howl was more than thunder. ‘WHY
HAST THOU INTRUDED THYSELF UPON MY gRIEF?’The
weeping God was immense, and in his arms he held the body of a