“What makes you think they’re shadowy? The spirits that are at the core of the two possible destinies infuse real people to act as their instruments during these meetings. Right now, for example, Zandramas is the Child of Dark. It used to be Torak—until Garion killed him.”
“And who’s the Child of Light?”
“I thought that would be obvious.”
’Zakath turned to stare incredulously into Garion’s blue eyes. “You?” he gasped.
“That’s what they tell me,” Garion replied.
5
Kal Zakath, dread Emperor of boundless Mallorea, looked first at Belgarath, then again at Garion, and finally at Velvet. “Why do I feel that I’m losing control of things here?” he asked. “When you people came here, you were more or less my prisoners. Now somehow I’m yours.”
“We told you some things you didn’t know before, that’s all,” Belgarath told him.
“Or some things that you’ve cleverly made up.”
“Why would we do that?”
“I can think of any number of reasons. For the sake of argument I’ll accept your story about the abduction of Belgarion’s son, but don’t you see how that makes all your motives completely obvious? You need my aid in your search. All this mystical nonsense, and your wild story about Urgit’s parentage, could have been designed to divert me from my campaign here in Cthol Murgos and to trick me into returning with you to Mallorea. Everything you’ve done or said since you’ve come here could have been directed toward that end.”
“Do you really think we’d do that?” Garion asked him.
“Belgarion, if I had a son and someone had abducted him, I’d do anything to get him back. I sympathize with your situation, but I have my own concerns, and they’re here, not in Mallorea. I’m sorry, but the more I think about this, the less of it I believe. I could not have misjudged the world so much. Demons? Prophecies? Magic? Immortal old men? It’s all been very entertaining, but I don’t believe one word of it.”
“Not even what the Orb showed you about Urgit?” Garion asked.
“Please, Belgarion, don’t treat me like a child.” ’Zakath’s lips were twisted into an ironic smile. “Isn’t it altogether possible that the poison had already crept into my mind? And isn’t it also possible that you, like any other of the charlatans who infest village fairs, used a show of mysterious lights and suggestions to make me see what you wanted me to see?”
“What do you believe, Kal Zakath?” Velvet asked him.
“What I can see and touch—and precious little else.”
“So great a skepticism,” she murmured. “Then you do not accept one single out-of—the-ordinary thing?”
“Not that I can think of, no.”
“Not even the peculiar gift of the Seers at Kell? It’s been fairly well documented, you know.”
He frowned slightly. “Yes,” he admitted, “as a matter of fact, it has.”
“How can you document a vision?” Garion asked curiously.
“The Grolims were seeking to discredit the Seers,” ’Zakath replied. “They felt that the easiest way to do that Was to have these pronouncements about the future written down and then wait to see what happened. The bureaucracy was instructed to keep records. So far, not one of the predictions of the Seers has proven false.”
“Then you do believe that the Seers have the ability to know things about the past and the present and the future in ways that the rest of us might not completely understand?” Velvet pressed.
’Zakath pursed his lips. “All right, Margravine,” he said reluctantly, “I’ll concede that the Seers have certain abilities that haven’t been explained as yet.”
“Do you believe that a Seer could lie to you?”
“Good girl,” Belgarath murmured approvingly.
“No,” ’Zakath replied after a moment’s thought. “A Seer is incapable of lying. Their truthfulness is proverbial.”
“Well, then,” she said with a dimpled smile, “all you need to do to find out if what we’ve told you is the truth is to send for a Seer, isn’t it?”
“Liselle,” Garion protested, “that could take weeks. We don’t have that much time.”
“Oh,” she said, “I don’t think it would take all that long. If I remember correctly, Lady Polgara said that Andel summoned Cyradis when his Majesty here lay dying. I’m fairly sure we could persuade her to do it for us again.”
“Well, ’Zakath,” Belgarath said. “Will you agree to accept what Cyradis tells you as the truth?”
The Emperor squinted at him suspiciously, searching for some kind of subterfuge. “You’ve manipulated me into a corner,” he accused. He thought about it. “All right, Belgarath,” he said finally. “I’ll accept whatever Cyradis says as the truth—if you’ll agree to do the same.""Done then,” Belgarath said. “Let’s send for Andel and get on with this.”
As Velvet stepped out into the hall to speak with one of the guards who trailed along behind the Emperor wherever he went, ’Zakath leaned back in his chair. “I can’t believe that I’m even considering all the wild impossibilities you’ve been telling me,” he said.
Garion exchanged a quick look with his grandfather, and then they both laughed.
“Something funny, gentlemen?”
“Just a family joke, ’Zakath,” Belgarath told him. “Garion and I have been discussing the possible and the impossible since he was about nine years old. He was even more stubborn about it than you are.”
“It gets easier to accept after the first shock wears off,” Garion added. “It’s sort of like swimming in very cold water. Once you get numb, it doesn’t hurt quite so much.”
It was not long until Velvet reentered the room with the hooded Andel at her side.
“I believe you said that the Seeress of Kell is your mistress, Andel,” ’Zakath said to her.
“Yes, she is, your Majesty.”
“Can you summon her?”
“Her semblance, your Majesty, if there is need and if she will consent to come.”
“I believe there’s a need, Andel. Belgarath has told me certain things that I have to have confirmed. I know that Cyradis speaks only the truth. Belgarath, on the other hand, has a more dubious reputation."He threw a rather sly, sidelong glance at the old man.
Belgarath grinned at him and winked.
“I will speak with my mistress, your Majesty,” Andel said, “and entreat her to send her semblance here. Should she consent, I beg of you to ask your questions quickly. The effort of reaching half around the world exhausts her, and she is not robust.” Then the Dalasian woman knelt reverently and lowered her head, and Garion once again heard that peculiar murmur as of many voices, followed by a long moment of silence. Again there was that same shimmer in the air; when it had cleared, the hooded and blindfolded form of Cyradis stood there.
“We thank you for coming, Holy Seeress,” ’Zakath said to her in an oddly respectful tone of voice.” My guests here have told me certain things that I am loath to believe, but I have agreed to accept whatever you can confirm.”
“I will tell thee what I can, ’Zakath,” she replied. “Some things are hidden from me, and some others may not yet be revealed.”
“I understand the limitations, Cyradis. Belgarion tells me that Urgit, the King of the Murgos, is not of the blood of Taur Urgas. Is this true?”
“It is,” she replied simply. “King Urgit’s father was an Alorn.”
“Are any of the sons of Taur Urgas still alive?”
“Nay, ’Zakath. The line of Taur Urgas became extinct some twelve years ago when his last son was strangled in a cellar in Rak Goska upon the command of Oskatat, King Urgit’s Seneschal.”
’Zakath sighed and shook his head sadly. “And so it has ended,” he said. “My enemy’s line passed unnoticed from this world in a dark cellar—passed so quietly that I could not even rejoice that they were gone, nor curse the ones who stole them from my grasp.”