They were at a standstill in the search for the man who had tried to kill him in that dim hallway, but both Lelldorin and Garion had discovered that the outer garments of any number of Rivans needed repair. The gray cloak was not a ceremonial garment, but rather was something thrown on for warmth. It was a sturdy, utilitarian covering, and quite a number of such robes had been allowed to fall into a condition of shocking disrepair. Moreover, now that spring was here, men would soon stop wearing them, and the only clue to the attacker’s identity would be locked away in a closet somewhere.
Garion brooded about that as he wandered moodily through the silent corndors of the Citadel with two mailed guards following at a respectful distance. The attempt, he reasoned, had not come from a Grolim. Aunt Pol’s peculiar ability to recognize the mind of a Grolim would have alerted her instantly. In all probability the attacker had not been a foreigner of any kind. There were too few foreigners on the island to make that very likely. It had to be a Rivan, but why would a Rivan want to kill the king who had just returned after thirteen hundred years?
He sighed with perplexity over the problem and let his mind drift off to other matters. He wished that he were only Garion again; he wished that more than anything. He wished that it might be possible for him to awaken in some out-of the-way inn somewhere and start out in the silver light of daybreak to ride alone to the top of the next hill to see what lay beyond. He sighed again. He was a public person now, and such freedom was denied him. He was coldly certain that he was never going to have a moment to himself again.
As he passed an open doorway, he suddenly heard a familiar voice. “Sin creeps into our minds the moment we let our thoughts stray,” Relg was saying. Garion stopped, motioning his guards to silence.
“Must everything be a sin?” Taiba asked. Inevitably they were together. They had been together almost continually from the moment Relg had rescued Taiba from her living entombment in the cave beneath Rak Cthol. Garion was almost certain that neither of them was actually conscious of that fact. Moreover, he had seen evidence of discomfort, not only on Taiba’s face, but on Relg’s as well, whenever they were apart. Something beyond the control of either of them drew them together.
“The world is filled with sin,” Relg declared. “We must guard against it constantly. We must stand jealous guard over our purity against all forms of temptation.”
“That would be very tiresome.” Taiba sounded faintly amused.
“I thought you wanted instruction,” Relg accused her. “If you just came here to mock me, I’ll leave right now.”
“Oh, sit down, Relg,” she told him. “We’ll never get anywhere with this if you take offense at everything I say.”
“Have you no idea at all about the meaning of religion?” he asked after a moment. He actually sounded curious about it.
“In the slave pens, the word religion meant death. It meant having your heart cut out.”
“That was a Grolim perversion. Didn’t you have a religion of your own?”
“The slaves came from all over the world, and they prayed to many Gods – usually for death.”
“What about your own people? Who is your God?”
“I was told that his name is Mara. We don’t pray to him though – not since he abandoned us.”
“It’s not man’s place to accuse the Gods,” Relg told her sternly. “Man’s duty is to glorify his God and pray to him – even if the prayers aren’t answered.”
“And what about the God’s duty to man?” she asked pointedly. “Can a God not be negligent as well as a man? Wouldn’t you consider a God negligent if he allowed his children to be enslaved and butchered – or if he allowed his daughters to be given as a reward to other slaves when they pleased their masters – as I was?”
Relg struggled with that painful question.
“I think you’ve led a very sheltered life, Relg,” she told the zealot. “I think you have a very limited idea of human suffering – of the kinds of things men can do to other men – and women – apparently with the full permission of the Gods.”
“You should have killed yourself,” he said stubbornly.
“Whatever for?”
“To avoid corruption, naturally.”
“You are an innocent, aren’t you? I didn’t kill myself because I wasn’t ready to die. Even in the slave pens, life can be sweet, Relg, and death is bitter. What you call corruption is only a small thing – and not even always unpleasant.”
“Sinful womanl” he gasped.
“You worry too much about that, Relg,” she advised him. “Cruelty is a sin; lack of compassion is a sin. But that other little thing? I hardly think so. I begin to wonder about you. Could it be that this UL of yours is not quite so stern and unforgiving as you seem to believe? Does he really want all these prayers and rituals and grovelings? Or are they your way to hide from your God? So you think that praying in a loud voice and pounding your head on the ground will keep him from seeing into your heart?”
Relg was making strangled noises.
“If our Gods really loved us, they’d want our lives filled with joy,” she continued relentlessly. “But you hate joy for some reason – probably because you’re afraid of it. Joy is not sin, Relg; joy is a kind of love, and I think the Gods approve of it – even if you don’t.”
“You’re hopelessly depraved.”
“Perhaps so,” she admitted casually, “but at least I look life right in the face. I’m not afraid of it, and I don’t try to hide from it.”
“Why are you doing this?” he demanded of her in an almost tragic voice. “Why must you forever follow me and mock me with your eyes?”
“I don’t really know,” she replied, sounding almost puzzled. “You’re not really that attractive. Since we left Rak Cthol, I’ve seen dozens of men who interested me much more. At first it was because I knew that I made you nervous and because you were afraid of me. I rather enjoyed that, but lately there’s more to it than that. It doesn’t make any sense, of course. You’re what you are, and I’m what I am, but for some reason I want to be with you.” She paused. “Tell me, Relg – and don’t try to lie about it – would you really want me to go away and never see you again?”
There was a long and painful silence. “May UL forgive me!” Relg groaned finally.
“I’m sure he will, Relg,” she assured him gently.
Garion moved quietly on down the corridor away from the open door. Something he had not understood before had begun to become quite clear. “You’re doing this, aren’t you?” he asked silently.
“Naturally, ” the dry voice in his mind replied.
“But why those two?”
“Because it’s necessary, Belgarion. I don’t do things out of whim. We’re all compelled by necessity – even 1. Actually, what’s going on between Relg and Taiba doesn’t remotely concern you. ”
Garion was a little stung by that.
“I thought well-”
“You assumed that you were my only care – that you were the absolute center of the universe? You’re not, of course. There are other things almost equally important, and Relg and Taiba are centrally involved in one of those things. Your participation in that particular matter is peripheral at the most.”
“They’re going to be desperately unhappy if you force them together, ” Garion accused.
“That doesn’t matter in the slightest. Their being together is necessary. Yau’re wrong though. It will take them a while to get used to it, but once they do, they’re both going to be very happy. Obedience to necessity does have its rewards, after all.”
Garion struggled with that idea for a while, then finally gave up. His own problems intruded once more on his thoughts. Inevitably, as he always did when he was troubled, he went looking for Aunt Pol. He found her sitting before the cozy fire in her apartment, sipping a cup of fragrant tea and watching through the window as the rosy morning sunlight set the snowfields above the city ablaze.
“You’re up early,” she observed as he entered.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he told her, “and the only way I ever get the chance to do what I want is to leave my room before the man with my schedule for the day shows up.” He flung himself into a chair. “They never give me a minute to myself.”
“You’re an important person now, dear.”
“That wasn’t my idea.” He stared moodily out the window. “Grandfather’s all right now, isn’t he?” he asked suddenly.