The Seeress of Kell Read online

  ‘And what of the events that shaped the world in times past?’

  ‘Our forebearers brought many books with them, Sir Knight, for the hours at sea are long and tedious. Among those volumes were those of history, which I have read.’

  ‘Good,’ Garion said. ‘That should make things a bit easier to explain. I am Belgarion, King of Riva,’ he introduced himself.

  The king’s eyes widened. ‘The Godslayer?’ he asked in an awed voice.

  ‘You’ve heard about that, I see,’ Garion said wryly.

  ‘All the world hath heard of it. Didst thou indeed slay the God of Angarak?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. My friend here is Kal Zakath, Emperor of Mallorea.’

  The king began to tremble. ‘What event is of such magnitude that it persuaded ye two to put aside thy hereditary enmity?’

  ‘We’ll get to that in a moment, your Majesty. The helpful fellow who’s out burying Naradas is Durnik, the most recent disciple of the God Aldur. The short one there is Beldin, also a disciple, and the one with the whiskers is Belgarath the Sorcerer.’

  ‘The Eternal Man?’ The king’s voice was choked.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t throw that around so much, Garion,’ Belgarath said in a pained tone. ‘Sometimes it upsets people.’

  ‘It saves time, Grandfather,’ Garion replied. ‘The tall lady with the lock of white hair is Belgarath’s daughter, Polgara the Sorceress. The little one with the red hair is Ce’Nedra, my wife. The blond girl is the Margravine Liselle of Drasnia, niece to the Chief of Drasnian intelligence, and the blind-folded girl who exposed Naradas is the Seeress of Kell. The big fellow who’s helping Durnik is Toth, her guide, and this one is Prince Kheldar of Drasnia.’

  ‘The richest man in the world?’

  ‘The reputation might be a trifle exaggerated, your Majesty,’ Silk said modestly, ‘but I’m working on it.’

  ‘The young fellow with blond hair is named Eriond, a very close friend.’

  ‘I am awed to be in such august company. Which of ye is the Child of Light?’

  ‘That’s the burden I bear, your Majesty,’ Garion told him. ‘Now, though it’s largely a part of Alorn history and prophecy, you may know that from time to time in the past there have been meetings between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark. We’re going toward the last one there’s ever going to be. The meeting’s going to decide the fate of the world. Our problem at the moment is discovering where the meeting’s supposed to take place.’

  ‘Thy quest then is even more awesome than I had imagined, King Belgarion. I will aid thee in whatsoever way I can. The foul Grolim Naradas misled me into hindering thee. Whatever small way in which I might assist thee may serve as partial recompense for that error. I will send forth my ships to seek out the place of the meeting for thee wheresoever it may be, from the beaches of Ebal to the reef of Korim.’

  ‘The reef of what?’ Belgarath exclaimed.

  ‘Korim, Ancient Belgarath. It doth lie to the northwest of this isle. Its location is clearly marked upon that chart which thou hast sought. Let us repair to my chambers, and I will show thee.’

  ‘I think we’ve just about come to the end of it, Belgarath,’ Beldin said. ‘As soon as you take a look at that map, you’ll be able to go home.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘That’s the end of your task, old man. We certainly appreciate your efforts, though.’

  ‘You wouldn’t mind too much if I came along, would you?’

  ‘That’s up to you, of course, but we wouldn’t want to keep you from anything important you’ve been neglecting.’ Beldin’s grin grew vicious. Needling Belgarath was one of his favorite forms of entertainment.

  As they turned toward the chapel entrance, Garion saw the she-wolf sitting in the doorway. Her golden eyes were intent, and her tongue lolled out in a wolfly smile.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THEY FOLLOWED THE king through the dimly lighted and deserted midnight halls of the palace at Perivor. A tense excitement filled Garion. They had won. No matter how hard Zandramas had tried to prevent it, they had still won. The answer to the riddle lay no more than a few yards away, and once it was answered, the meeting would take place. No power on earth could prevent it now.

  ‘Stop that,’ the voice in his mind told him. ‘You have to be calm now – very calm. Try to think about Faldor’s farm. That always seems to settle you.’

  ‘Where have you—’ Garion started, then broke off.

  ‘Where have I what?’

  ‘Never mind. The question always irritates you.’

  ‘Amazing. You actually remembered something I said. Faldor’s farm, Garion. Faldor’s farm.’

  He did as he had been told. Though the memories had seemed to fade over the years, they suddenly returned with startling clarity. He saw the shape of the place, the sheds and barns and the kitchen, smithy and dining hall on the lower floor, and the gallery on the second floor where the sleeping chambers were – all surrounding that central yard. He could hear the steely ring of Durnik’s hammer coming from the smithy and smell the warm fragrance of freshly baked bread coming from Aunt Pol’s kitchen. He saw Faldor and old Cralto and even Brill. He saw Doroon and Rundorig and, last, Zubrette – blond and pretty and artfully deceitful. A vast kind of calm came over him, not unlike the calm that had engulfed him when he had stood in the tomb of the one-eyed God in the City of Endless Night so long ago.

  ‘That’s better,’ the voice said. ‘Try to hold on to that. You’re going to have to think very clearly in the next few days and you can’t do that with your mind racing every which way. You can fly to pieces after it’s all over.’

  ‘That’s if I’m still around.’

  ‘We can hope.’ Then the voice was gone.

  The guards at the king’s door admitted them, and the king went directly to a cabinet, unlocked it, and removed a roll of ancient, crackling parchment. ‘It is much faded, I do fear me,’ he said. ‘We have tried to protect it from the light, but it is very old.’ He went to a table and carefully unrolled the chart, weighting down the corners with books. Once again Garion felt the tense excitement as he held back slightly, reaching back into his memories of Faldor’s farm to steady himself.

  The King of Perivor pointed with his finger. ‘Here lieth Perivor,’ he told them, ‘and here doth lie the reef of Korim.’

  Garion knew that if he looked too long at that fateful spot on the map, the wild excitement and sense of triumph would return, so he merely glanced at it, then let his eyes rove over the rest of the map. The spellings were strangely archaic. His eyes automatically sought his own kingdom. ‘Ryva’ it was spelled. There was also ‘Aryndia,’ and ‘Kherech’ and ‘Tol Nydra’ as well as ‘Draksnya’ and ‘Chthall Margose’.

  ‘It’s misspelled,’ Zakath noted. ‘The proper name is the Turim reef.’

  Beldin began to explain, but Garion already knew the answer. ‘Things change,’ the dwarf said, ‘and among those things is the way we say certain words. The sounds of words shift over the centuries. The name of that reef has probably changed several times over the last few thousand years. It’s a common phenomenon. If Belgarath were to speak in the language the people spoke in the village where he grew up, for example, none of us would be able to understand him. I’d guess that for a time the reef was called Torim or something like that, and it finally settled into Turim. It may change again a few times. I’ve made a study of that sort of thing. You see, what happens is that—’

  ‘Will you get on with it?’ Belgarath demanded in exasperation.

  ‘Aren’t you interested in expanding your education?’

  ‘Not at the moment, no.’

  Beldin sighed. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘what we call writing is just a way to reproduce the sound of a word. As the sound changes, so does the spelling. The difference is easily explained.’

  ‘Thine answer to the question was cogent, gentle Beldin,’ Cyradis said, ‘but in this particular case, the cha
nge of the sound was imposed.’

  ‘Imposed?’ Silk said, ‘by who – whom?’

  ‘It was the two prophecies, Prince Kheldar. In furtherance of their game, they altered the sound of the word to conceal the location from Ancient Belgarath and from Zandramas. These two were both required to solve the riddle ’ere the final meeting could take place.’

  ‘Game?’ Silk asked incredulously. ‘They were playing games with something this important?’

  ‘These two eternal awarenesses are not as we, Prince Kheldar. They contend with each other in myriad ways. Ofttimes, one will attempt to alter the course of a star, while the other strives to hold it in place. At other times, one will attempt to move a grain of sand while the other exerts all its energy to keep the grain motionless. Such struggles ofttimes consume whole eons. The riddle game they have played with Belgarath and Zandramas is but another of the ways they have used to formalize their contention, for should it ever come to pass that they confront each other directly, they would rend the universe apart.’

  Garion suddenly remembered an image that had come to him in the throne room at Vo Mimbre just before he had exposed the Murgo Nachak to King Korodullin. He had seemed to see two faceless players seated at a game where the moves had been so complex that his mind could not follow them. With absolute certainty now he saw that he had caught a momentary glimpse of the higher reality Cyradis had just described. ‘Did you do that on purpose?’ he asked the voice in his mind.

  ‘Naturally. You needed a bit of encouragement to get you to do something that was necessary. You’re a competitive sort of boy, so I thought the image of the great game might get you started.’

  Then something else occurred to Garion. ‘Cyradis,’ he said, ‘why is it that there are so many of us while Zandramas appears to be almost totally alone?’

  ‘It hath ever been thus, Belgarion. The Child of Dark is solitary, even as was Torak in his pride. Thou, however, art humble. Thou hast never pushed thyself forward, for thou knowest not thine own worth. This is endearing in thee, Child of Light, for thou art not puffed up with thine own importance. The Prophecy of Dark hath ever chosen one and one only, and hath infused that one with all its power. The Prophecy of Light, however, hath chosen to disperse its power among many. Although thou art the principal bearer of the burden, all of thy companions share it with thee. The difference between the two prophecies is simple, but it is profound.’

  Beldin was frowning. ‘You’re saying that it’s sort of like the difference between absolutism and shared responsibility, then?’

  ‘It is much as thou hast said. The difference is more complex, however.’

  ‘I was just trying to be concise.’

  ‘Now that’s a first,’ Belgarath said. Then he looked at the King of Perivor. ‘Can you describe this reef to us, your Majesty?’ he asked. ‘The representation on the map isn’t too precise.’

  ‘Gladly, Ancient Belgarath. In my youth I sailed thither, for the reef is something of a marvel. Seafarers assert that there is none like it in all the world. It doth consist of a series of rocky pinnacles rising from the sea. The pinnacles themselves are easy to see and therefore to avoid. Other dangers, however, lurk beneath the surface. Savage currents and tides do rush through gaps in the reef, and the weather there is ever unsettled. By reason of these perils, the reef hath never been charted in any detail. All prudent sailors avoid it entirely, giving that dangerous obstruction wide berth.’

  Durnik and Toth entered. ‘We’ve taken care of it, Your Majesty,’ Durnik reported. ‘Naradas is safely in the ground now. He won’t trouble you – or us – ever again. Did you want to know where we put him?’

  ‘Methinks not, my friend. Thou and thy massive companion have done me a service this night. I implore thee, if ever I can do thee service in return, hesitate not to call upon me.’

  ‘Cyradis,’ Belgarath said, ‘is this the last part of the riddle? Or are there other bits and pieces lurking about?’

  ‘Nay, Ancient One. The game of the riddles is finished. Now the game of deeds doth begin.’

  ‘Finally,’ Belgarath said with some relief. Then he and Beldin fell to studying the map.

  ‘Did we find it?’ Durnik asked Silk. ‘I mean, does the map show the location of Korim?’

  Silk led him to the table. ‘It’s right here,’ he said, pointing. ‘This is a very old map. Modern maps misspell the name. That’s why we had to come here.’

  ‘We’ve been doing a lot of running around chasing after scraps of paper,’ the smith observed.

  ‘We have indeed, my friend. According to Cyradis, it’s all been part of a game being played by the friend Garion’s got inside his head and the other one, who’s probably inside Zandramas’ head.’

  ‘I hate games.’

  ‘I don’t mind them.’

  ‘That’s becouse you’re Drasnian.’

  ‘That could be part of it, I suppose.’

  ‘It’s in the approximate location where the mountains of Korim were, Belgarath,’ Beldin said, measuring off distances with his fingers. ‘They were probably moved a bit when Torak cracked the world.’

  ‘A lot of things were moved that day, as I recall.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Beldin agreed fervently. ‘I had trouble standing up, and I’m built closer to the ground than you are.’

  ‘You know something? I’ve noticed that myself. Your Majesty,’ the old man addressed the king, ‘could you be a bit more specific about the reef? Trying to land on the side of a rock pinnacle from a boat that’s pitching around in the surf would be difficult and dangerous.’

  ‘If memory doth serve me, Ancient Belgarath, I do seem to recall a few rocky beaches, built up, doubtless, from shards and boulders tumbled from the sides of the peaks and then pounded to bits by the restless sea. When the tide is low, this rubble, accumulated over the eons, doth rise above the surface of the sea, providing means whereby one may move freely from one pinnacle to the next.’

  ‘Sort of like that land bridge from Morindland to Mallorea,’ Silk recalled sourly. ‘That wasn’t a very pleasant trip.’

  ‘Are there any landmarks of any kind?’ Belgarath pressed. ‘That reef goes on for quite a ways. It could take a lot of wading to find the exact place we need to reach.’

  ‘I cannot attest to this from mine own true knowledge,’ the king said cautiously, ‘but certain seafarers have asserted that there appears to be a cave mouth on the north side of the highest pinnacle. On occasion, more adventurous ones have sought to go ashore to explore its depths, for, as is widely known, remote caves ofttimes serve as repositories for the ill-gotten gains of free-booters and pirates. The pinnacle, however, hath ever repulsed their most valiant efforts. Each time one of these brave souls attempts landing there, the sea becomes angry, and sudden storms do appear from a cloudless sky.’

  ‘That’s it, Belgarath,’ Beldin chortled exultantly. ‘Something’s been going out of its way to keep casual explorers out of that cave.’

  ‘Two somethings, I gather,’ Belgarath agreed. ‘You’re right, though. We’ve finally located the exact place of the meeting. It’s in that cave.’

  Silk groaned.

  ‘Art thou ill, Prince Kheldar?’ the king inquired.

  ‘Not yet, your Majesty, but I think I’m going to be.’

  ‘Our Prince Kheldar has difficulties with caves, your Majesty,’ Velvet explained, smiling.

  ‘There’s nothing difficult about it at all, Liselle,’ the rat-faced little man disagreed. ‘It’s really very simple. Every time I see a cave, I go into an absolute panic.’

  ‘I have heard of this malady,’ the king said. ‘One wonders what may be its mysterious source.’

  ‘There’s nothing mysterious about the source of mine, your Majesty,’ Silk said drily. ‘I know exactly where it came from.’

  ‘If it is thine intent to dare the perilous reef, Ancient Belgarath,’ the king said then, ‘I will provide thee and thy companions with a stout ship to convey thee thither.
I will give orders that the ship be ready to sail with the morning tide.’

  ‘Your Majesty is very kind.’

  ‘It is but small payment for the service thou hast rendered to me this night.’ The king paused, his face reflective. ‘It may be even as the spirit of foul Naradas proclaimed,’ he mused. ‘I may indeed be a vain and foolish man, but I am not immune to the promptings of gratitude. You all have preparations to make,’ he said then. ‘I will not delay you more. We shall meet again on the morrow ’ere you depart.’

  ‘We thank you, your Majesty,’ Garion said, his armor creaking as he bowed. Then he led the others from the chamber. He was not at all surprised to see the she-wolf sitting just outside the door.

  ‘The time is exactly right, isn’t it, Cyradis,’ Polgara said to the Seeress once they were all out in the corridor. ‘At Ashaba, you said it would be nine months until the meeting. As I make it, the exact time will be the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Thy calculations are correct, Polgara.’

  ‘It works out precisely then. It should take us one full day to reach the reef, and we’ll go to the cave on the following morning.’ Polgara smiled a bit wryly. ‘All this time we’ve been fretting about arriving late, and now we get there precisely on time.’ She laughed. ‘What a waste of all that perfectly good worrying.’

  ‘Well, now we know where and when,’ Durnik said. ‘All that’s left to do is to go there and get on with it.’

  ‘That sums it up, I’d say,’ Silk agreed.

  Eriond sighed, and Garion felt a chill suspicion that was not quite a certainty. ‘Is it going to be he?’ he asked the dry voice. ‘Is Eriond going to be the one who dies?’

  But the voice would not answer.

  They entered their quarters with the wolf close behind them.

  ‘It’s been a long time getting here,’ Belgarath said wearily. ‘I’m getting a little old for these extended journeys.’

  ‘Old?’ Beldin snorted. ‘You were born old. I still think you’ve got a few miles left in you, though.’

  ‘I think that when we get home, I’ll spend a century or so in my tower.’