"It’s getting late, Father," Aunt Pol reminded him.
Wolf nodded. "We’re playing a deadly game," he told them all, "but our enemies are playing one just as deadly. Their danger’s as great as ours, and right now, no one can predict what will finally happen. Make your preparations and send out men you can trust to keep watch. Be patient and don’t do anything rash. That could be more dangerous than anything else right now. At the moment, Polgara and I are the only ones who can act. You’re going to have to trust us. I know that sometimes some of the things we’ve done have seemed a bit strange, but there are reasons for what we do. Please don’t interfere again. I’ll get word to you now and then about our progress; if I need you to do anything else, I’ll let you know. All right?"
The kings nodded gravely, and everyone rose to his feet.
Anheg stepped over to Mister Wolf. "Could you come by my study in an hour or so, Belgarath?" he said quietly. "I’d like to have a few words with you and Polgara before your departure."
"If you wish, Anheg," Mister Wolf said.
"Come along, Garion," Aunt Pol said. "We have packing to take care of."
Garion, a little awed at the solemnity of the discussions, rose quietly and followed her to the door.
20
King Anheg’s study was a large, cluttered room high in a square tower. Books bound in heavy leather lay everywhere, and strange devices with gears and pulleys and tiny brass chains sat on tables and stands. Intricately drawn maps, with beautiful illuminations were pinned up on the walls, and the floor was littered with scraps of parchment covered with tiny writing. King Anheg, his coarse black hair hanging in his eyes, sat at a slanted table in the soft glow of a pair of candles studying a large book written on thin sheets of crackling parchment.
The guard at the door let them enter without a word, and Mister Wolf stepped briskly into the center of the room. "You wanted to see us, Anheg?"
The King of Cherek straightened from his book and laid it aside. "Belgarath," he said with a short nod of greeting. "Polgara." He glanced at Garion who stood uncertainly near the door.
"I meant what I said earlier," Aunt Pol said. "I’m not going to let him out of my sight until I know for certain he’s out of the reach of that Grolim, Asharak."
"Anything you say, Polgara," Anheg said. "Come in, Garion."
"I see that you are continuing your studies," Mister Wolf said approvingly, glancing at the littered room.
"There’s so much to learn," Anheg said with a helpless gesture that included all the welter of books and papers and strange machines. "I have a feeling that I might have been happier if you’d never introduced me to this impossible task."
"You asked me," said Wolf simply.
"You could have said no." Anheg laughed. Then his brutish face turned serious. He glanced once more at Garion and began to speak in an obviously oblique manner. "I don’t want to interfere," he said, "but the behavior of this Asharak concerns me."
Garion moved away from Aunt Pol and began to study one of the strange little machines sitting on a nearby table, being careful not to touch it.
"We’ll take care of Asharak," Aunt Pol said.
But Anheg persisted. There have been rumors for centuries that you and your father have been protecting —" he hesitated, glanced at Garion, and then continued smoothly. "— A certain thing that must be protected at all costs. Several of my books speak of it."
"You read too much, Anheg," Aunt Pol said.
Anheg laughed again. "It passes the time, Polgara," he said. "The alternative is drinking with my earls, and my stomach’s getting a little delicate for that—and my ears as well. Have you any idea of how much noise a hall full of drunk Chereks can make? My books don’t shout or boast and they don’t fall down or slide under the tables and snore. They’re much better company, really."
"Foolishness," Aunt Pol said.
"We’re all foolish at one time or another," Anheg said philosophically. "But let’s get back to this other matter. If these rumors I mentioned are true, aren’t you taking some serious risks? Your search is likely to be very dangerous."
"No place is really safe," Mister Wolf said.
"Why take chances you don’t have to?" Anheg asked. "Asharak isn’t the only Grolim in the world you know."
"I can see why they call you Anheg the sly," Wolf said with a smile.
"Wouldn’t it be safer to leave this certain thing in my care until you return?" Anheg suggested.
"We’ve already found that not even Val Alorn is safe from the Grolims, Anheg," Aunt Pol said firmly. "The mines of Cthol Murgos and Gar og Nadrak are endless, and the Grolims have more gold at their disposal than you could even imagine. How many others like Jarvik have they bought? The Old Wolf and I are very experienced at protecting this certain thing you mentioned. It will be safe with us."
"Thank you for your concern, however," Mister Wolf said.
"The matter concerns us all," Anheg said.
Garion, despite his youth and occasional recklessness, was not stupid. It was obvious that what they were talking about involved him in some way and quite possibly had to do with the mystery of his parentage as well. To conceal the fact that he was listening as hard as he could, he picked up a small book bound in a strangely textured black leather. He opened it, but there were neither pictures or illuminations, merely a spidery-looking script that seemed strangely repulsive.
Aunt Pol, who always seemed to know what he was doing, looked over at him. "What are you doing with that?" She said sharply.
"Just looking," He said. "I can’t read."
"Put it down immediately," she told him.
King Anheg smiled. "You wouldn’t be able to read it anyway, Garion," he said. "It’s written in Old Angarak."
"What are you doing with that filthy thing anyway?" Aunt Pol asked Anheg. "You of all people should know that it’s forbidden."
"It’s only a book, Pol," Mister Wolf said. "It doesn’t have any power unless it’s permitted to."
"Besides," Anheg said, rubbing thoughtfully at the side of his face, "the book gives us clues to the mind of our enemy. That’s always a good thing to know."
"You can’t know Torak’s mind," Aunt Pol said, "and it’s dangerous to open yourself to him, He can poison you without your even knowing what’s happening."
"I don’t think there’s any danger of that, Pol," Wolf said. "Anheg’s mind is well-trained enough to avoid the traps in Torak’s book, They’re pretty obvious after all."
"You’re an observant young man, Garion," Anheg said gravely. "You’ve done me a service today, and you can call on me at any time for service in return. Know that Anheg of Cherek is your friend." He extended hs right hand, and Garion took it into his own without thinking.
King Anheg’s eyes grew suddenly wide, and his face paled slightly. He turned Garion’s hand over and looked down at the silvery mark on the boy’s palm.
Then Aunt Pol’s hands were also there, firmly closing Garion’s fingers and removing him from Anheg’s grip.
"It’s true, then," Anheg said softly.
"Enough," Aunt Pol said. "Don’t confuse the boy." Her hands were still firmly holding Garion’s. "Come along, dear," she said. "It’s time to finish packing." And she turned and led him from the room.
Garion’s mind was racing, What was there about the mark on his hand that had so startled Anheg? The birthmark, he knew, was hereditary. Aunt Pol had once told him that his father’s hand had had the same mark, but why would that be of interest to Anheg? It had gone too far, His need to know became almost unbearable. He had to know about his parents, about Aunt Pol—about all of it. If the answers hurt, then they’d just have to hurt. At least he would know.