“It all started last year,” Sadi began, still eyeing Belgarath apprehensively. “A Malloreon posing as a jewel merchant came to Sthiss Tor and sought out my chief rival at the palace—a petty schemer named Sariss. It was rather general knowledge that Sariss had long coveted my position, but I hadn’t gotten around to having him killed yet.” He made a face. “A grave oversight, as it turned out. Anyway, Sariss and the Malloreon negotiated for a bit, and the bargain they struck had nothing to do with gem stones. This so-called jeweler needed something that only someone in a position of authority could provide, so he gave Sariss certain information that Sariss was able to use to discredit me and usurp my position.”
“I just love politics, don’t you?” Silk said to no one in particular.
Sadi grimaced again. “The details of my fall from the queen’s favor are tedious,” he continued, “and I really don’t want to bore you with them. At any rate, Sariss supplanted me as Chief Eunuch, and I barely escaped from the palace with my life. Once Sariss had consolidated his position, he was able to keep his part of the bargain he had reached with his Malloreon friend.”
“And what exactly did the Malloreon want?” Silk asked.
“This, Prince Kheldar,” Sadi said, rising and going to his rumpled cot. He drew a carefully folded parchment from beneath the mattress and handed it to the little man.
Silk read it quickly and then whistled.
“Well?” Belgarath said.
“It’s an official document,” Silk replied. “At least, it’s over the queen’s seal. Early last spring, Salmissra dispatched a diplomatic mission to Sendaria.”
“That’s fairly routine, Silk.”
“I know, but there are also some secret instructions to the diplomats. She tells them that they will be met at the mouth of the River of the Serpent by a foreigner, and that they are to render this stranger every possible aid. The gist of the whole thing is that these diplomats were to make arrangements to get the foreigner to the port of Halberg on the west coast of Cherek and to have a Nyissan ship standing off the Rivan coast on a certain date about the middle of last summer.”
“Coincidence, perhaps?” Belgarath suggested.
Silk shook his head and held up the parchment. “It identifies the foreigner by name. The diplomats were supposed to identify their passenger by the name ‘Zandramas.’”
“That explains a few things, doesn’t it?” Garion said.
“May I see that?” Polgara asked.
Silk handed her the parchment.
She looked at it briefly and then held it out to Sadi. “Are you positive that this is Salmissra’s seal?” she asked him.
“There’s no question about it, Polgara,” he replied, “and no one dares to touch that seal without her consent.”
“I see.”
“How did you come by the document, Sadi?” Silk asked curiously.
“Four copies of all official documents are routinely made, Prince Kheldar. It’s one of the resources of those with access to the queen’s favor. The purchase price of the extra copies has been established for centuries.”
“All right,” Garion said, “so Zandramas came to Nyissa posing as a merchant, arranged to have Sariss replace you as Chief Eunuch, and somehow managed to get Salmissra to issue that order. Is that it?”
“It’s not quite that simple, Belgarion,” Sadi told him. “The Malloreon merchant was not Zandramas. No one here in Sthiss Tor ever saw Zandramas. The ‘stranger’ the document talks about joined the diplomats on their way to Sendaria. So far as I’ve been able to determine, Zandramas never passed through Sthiss Tor. Not only that, but after the arrangements for the ship to Halberg had been made, all the diplomats conveniently died. They were stopping over at an inn in Camaar on their way to the capital, and there was a fire in the middle of the night. No one escaped the fire.”
“That’s got a familiar ring to it,” Silk said-
“All right then,” Garion said, “who was the Malloreon jeweler?”
Sadi spread his hands helplessly. “I was never able to find out,” he confessed.
“Did you ever see him?”
“Once. He was a strange-looking fellow. His eyes were absolutely colorless.”
There was a long pause, and then Silk said, “That clears up a few other things, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe so,” Garion said, “but it still doesn’t answer my main question. We know who Naradas is working for now. We know how Zandramas got to Cherek and escaped from the Isle of the Winds with my son, but what I need to know is where the trail we’re following is going to lead.”
Sadi shrugged. “Rak Verkat.”
“How did you arrive at that conclusion?” Silk asked him.
“Sariss hasn’t been in power long enough to weed out the more untrustworthy of his underlings. I found one who was open to the notion of private enterprise. Zandramas has to be in Mallorea with Prince Geran by this coming spring, and the route must be by way of Rak Verkat.”
“Wouldn’t it be shorter to sail from Rak Cthan?” Silk asked.
Sadi looked at him with a faintly surprised expression. “I thought you knew,” he said. “Kal Zakath has put a very handsome price on the head of Zandramas, and the Malloreon reserves are concentrated at Rak Hagga. If Zandramas tried to go through Hagga to reach Cthan, all those troops would drop whatever they were doing to go head-hunting. The only safe port for Zandramas to sail from is Rak Verkat.”
“Was this underling you bribed reliable?” Silk demanded. “Of course not. As soon as he had finished telling me all this, he had planned to turn me in for the reward—dead, naturally, so he didn’t really have any reason to lie to me, and he was too stupid to make up a coherent lie anyway.” The eunuch smiled bleakly. “I know of a certain plant, though. It’s a very reliable plant. The man was telling me the absolute truth. As a matter of fact, he kept telling me the truth long after it had begun to bore me. Sariss provided Zandramas with an escort across Nyissa and detailed maps of the shortest route to the Isle of Verkat.”
“Was that all the fellow said?” Garion asked. “Oh, no,” Sadi replied. “He was busy confessing to me that he had cheated on an examination in school when I finally had Issus cut his throat. I can only deal with so much truth in one day.”
“All right,” Garion said, ignoring that, “Zandramas is going to the Isle of Verkat. How does that help us?”
“The route Zandramas will have to follow will be roundabout—because of that reward I mentioned. We, on the other hand, can go straight across southern Cthol Murgos to the Isle. It will save us months.”
“That route goes right through the war zone,” Silk protested.
“That’s no particular problem. I can take you directly through to Verkat without any hindrance from either the Murgos or the Malloreons.”
“How do you propose to manage that?”
“When I was younger, I was engaged in the slave trade in Cthol Murgos. I know all the routes and I know whom to bribe and whom to avoid. Slavers are useful to both sides in the war between the Murgos and Malloreons, so they’re allowed to move around freely. All we have to do is dress as slave traders, and no one will interfere with us.”
“What’s to keep you from selling us to the Grolims as soon as we cross the border?” Silk asked bluntly. “Self-interest.” Sadi shrugged. “Grolims are an ungrateful lot. If I sell you to them, it’s quite likely that they’ll turn around and sell me to Salmissra. I don’t think I’d like that at all.”
“Is she really that angry with you?” Garion asked.
“Irritated,” Sadi said. “A snake doesn’t really get angry. I’ve heard, however, that she wants to bite me personally. That’s a great honor, of course, but one I’d prefer to forgo.”
The door to the hidden room clicked open, and Droblek looked in. “Issus is back,” he said.
“Good,” Belgarath replied. “I want to get back across the river before morning.”
The one-eyed man came in carrying the case Sadi had described. It was a flat, square box a couple of feet across and several inches thick. “What’s in this, Sadi?” he asked. “It gurgles.” He took the case.
“Be careful man!” Sadi exclaimed. “Some of those bottles are fragile.”
“What’s this?” Belgarath demanded.
“A bit of this, a bit of that,” Sadi replied evasively.
“Drugs?”
“And poisons and antidotes—a few aphrodisiacs, an anesthetic or two, a fairly effective truth drug—and Zith.”
“What is Zith?”
“Zith is a who, Ancient One, not a what. I never go anywhere without her.” He opened the case and lovingly took out a small earthenware bottle, securely corked and with a series of small holes encircling its neck. “Would you hold this, please?” he said, handing the bottle to Silk. “I want to make sure Issus didn’t break anything.” He began to carefully examine the row after row of little vials nested in velvet-lined pockets inside the case.
Silk looked curiously at the bottle, then took hold of the cork.
“I really wouldn’t do that, Prince Kheldar,” Sadi advised. “You might get a nasty surprise.”
“What’s in here?” Silk asked, shaking the bottle.
“Please, Kheldar. Zith becomes vexed when people shake her.” Sadi closed the case, set it aside, and took the bottle from Silk. “There, there,” he said to it in a crooning voice. “It’s nothing to be alarmed about, dear. I’m right here and I won’t let him disturb you any more.”
From inside the bottle came a peculiar purring sound.
“How did you get a cat in there?” Garion asked.
“Oh, Zith isn’t a cat, Belgarion,” Sadi assured him. “Here, I’ll show you.” Carefully he worked the cork out and laid the bottle on its side on the table. “You can come out now, dear,” he crooned to it.
Nothing happened,
“Come along now, Zith. Don’t be shy.”
Then a small, bright-green snake slithered obediently from the mouth of the bottle. She had gleaming yellow eyes and a vibrant red stripe running down her back from nose to tail. Her forked tongue flickered out, touching Sadi’s outstretched hand.
Silk recoiled with a sharp intake of breath.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Sadi said, gently stroking the little snake’s head with one finger. The snake began to purr contentedly, then raised her head, fixed Silk with a cold, reptilian eye, and hissed spitefully at him.
“I do believe that you offended her, Prince Kheldar,” Sadi said. “Maybe you should stay away from her for a while.”
“Don’t worry,” Silk said fervently, backing away. “Is she venomous?”
“She’s the deadliest little snake in the world, aren’t you, dear?” Sadi stroked the snake’s head again. “Also the rarest. Her species is highly prized in Nyissa because they’re the most intelligent of all reptiles. They’re friendly—even affectionate—and, of course, the purr is absolutely delightful.”
“But she does bite,” Silk added.
“Only people who irritate her—and never a friend. All you have to do is feed her and keep her warm and show her a little affection now and then, and she’ll follow you around like a puppy.”
“Not me, she won’t.”
“Sadi,” Belgarath said, pointing at the case, “what’s the idea of all this? I don’t need a walking apothecary shop trailing along behind me.”
Sadi held up one hand. “Murgos aren’t really very interested in money, Ancient One, but there are people I’ll have to bribe when we go across Cthol Murgos. Some of them have picked up certain habits. That case is going to be worth more to us than a pack horse loaded down with gold.”
Belgarath grunted. “Just keep your face out of it. I don’t want your head full of smoke at a crucial moment—and keep your snake under control.”
“Of course, Belgarath.”
The old sorcerer turned to Issus. “Can you get a bigger boat? We need to get back across the river, and that one of yours won’t hold all of us.”
Issus nodded.
“Not just yet, father,” Polgara said. “I’m going to need him for a while.”
“Pol, we need to get back on the other side of the river before dawn.”
“I won’t be too long, father, but I have to go to the palace.”
“The palace?”
“Zandramas went to Cherek—where no Angarak has been allowed since the days of Bear-shoulders. Salmissra arranged that and she also engineered the escape from the Isle of the Winds after the abduction of Ce’Nedra’s baby. I want to know why.”
“We’re a bit pressed for time, Polgara. Can’t this wait?”
“I don’t think so, father. I think we need to know if there were any other arrangements. I’d rather not be surprised by a battalion or so of Nyissan troops lurking in the jungle along the trail we’re following.”
He frowned. “You might be right.”
“You’re going to the palace?” Garion asked her.
“I must, dear.”
“All right,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “Then I’m going with you.”
She gave him a long, steady look. “You’re going to insist, I take it?”
He nodded. “Yes, Aunt Pol, I think I am.” He said it quite decisively.
She sighed. “How quickly they grow up,” she said. Then she turned to Issus. “Do you know a back way to the palace?” she asked him.
The one-eyed man nodded.
“Will you show us?”
“Of course,” he replied. He paused. “We can discuss the price later.”
“Price?”
“Nothing for nothing, Lady,” he shrugged. “Shall we go?”
It was nearly midnight when Issus led Polgara and Garion out the rear door of Droblek’s house into a narrow alleyway that smelled strongly of rotting garbage. They made their way furtively through a twisting series of similar alleys, sometimes passing through the lower corridors of houses to move from one alley to another.
“How do you know which houses have unlocked doors?” Garion whispered as they emerged from a tall, narrow house in a run-down quarter of the city.
“It’s my business to know,” Issus replied. He straightened and looked around. “We’re getting close to the palace,” he told them. “The streets and alleys in this part of the city are patrolled. Wait here a minute.” He stealthily crossed the alley, opened a recessed door, and slipped inside. A couple of moments later he emerged, carrying two silk robes, a pair of lances, and a couple of brass helmets. “We’ll wear these,” he said to Garion, “and if you don’t mind, Lady, pull your hood farther over your face. If anybody stops us, let me do the talking.”
Garion pulled on the robe and helmet and took one of the lances from the assassin.
“Tuck your hair up under the helmet,” Issus instructed. Then he stepped out boldly, trusting to their disguises rather than to stealth.
They had no sooner entered the next street than they were stopped by a half-dozen armed men.
“What’s your business?” the man in charge of the patrol demanded.
“We’re escorting a visitor to the palace,” Issus replied.
“What kind of visitor?”
Issus gave him a disgusted look. “You don’t really want to interfere, corporal,” he said. “The one she’s visiting wouldn’t like it.”
“And who is that?”
“Now, that’s a very stupid question, man. If this woman’s friend finds out that I told you, we’ll probably both wind up in the river.”
“How do I know that you’re telling me the truth?”
“You don’t—but do you really want to take a chance on it?”
The corporal’s expression grew faintly nervous as he thought about it. “You’d better move along,” he said finally.
“I was sure you’d see it my way,” Issus observed. He roughly took hold of Polgara’s arm. “Move, you,” he commanded.
When they reached the end of the street, Garion glanced back. The soldiers were still watching them, but made no move to follow.
“I hope you aren’t offended, Lady,” Issus apologized.
“No,” Polgara replied. “You’re a very resourceful fellow, Issus.”
“That’s what I get paid for. We go this way.”
The wall of Salmissra’s palace was very high, constructed of great roughhewn stone blocks that had stood for eons in this dank city by the river. Issus led them into the dense shadows under the wall and to a small, iron-barred gate. He fumbled with the lock for a moment, then carefully swung the gate open. “Let’s go,” he muttered.
The palace was a maze of dimly lighted corridors, but Issus led them confidently, moving along as if he were on an important mission. As they approached the broader, somewhat more brightly lighted hallways near the center of the palace, a grotesquely made-up eunuch lurched by, his legs stiff and his eyes unfocused. His mouth was fixed in a stupefied grin, and his body twitched spasmodically as he stumbled past them. They passed an open doorway and heard someone inside giggling uncontrollably. Garion could not be sure if that unseen person was a man or a woman.
The one-eyed man stopped and opened a door. “We have to go through here,” he said, taking a smoky lamp from the niche beside the door. “Be careful. It’s dark, and there are snakes on the floor.”
The room was cool and had a musty smell. Garion could clearly hear the dry, dusty hiss of scales rubbing against each other in the corners. “It’s fairly safe,” Issus said. “They were fed today, and that always makes them sluggish.” He stopped at the door, opened it a crack and peered out. “Wait,” he whispered.
Garion heard a couple of men talking and the sound of their footsteps in the corridor outside. Then a door opened and closed.
“It’s clear,” Issus said quietly. “Let’s go.” He led them into the corridor and along its dimly lighted length to a pottshed door. He looked at Polgara. “Are you sure you want to see the queen?” he asked her.
She nodded.
“AH right,” he said. “Sariss is in here. He’ll take us to the throneroom.”
“Are you sure?” Garion whispered.
Issus reached under the robe he had donned in the alley and drew out a long, saw-edged dagger. “I can practically guarantee it,” he said. “Give me a moment. Then come in and close the door.” He shoved the door open and jumped into the room like a great, soft-footed cat.
“What—” someone inside the room cried out in a high-pitched voice. Then there was a terrified silence.
Garion and Polgara entered quickly, closing the door behind them. A man sat at the table, his eyes bulging with fright and with the needlepoint of Issus’ dagger pushed against his throat. He wore a crimson silk robe, and his shaven head was pasty white. Rolls of greasy, unhealthy-looking fat drooped from his jowls, and his frightened eyes were small and piglike,
Issus was talking to him in a dreadfully quiet voice, emphasizing what he was saying by pressing the point of his knife into the skin of the fat man’s throat. “This is an Ulgo knife, Sariss. It causes almost no damage when it goes in, but when you pull it out, it jerks out all kinds of things along with it. Now, we aren’t going to make any kind of outcry, are we?”
“N-no,” Sariss stammered in a squeaky voice.
“I was sure you’d see it my way. This is what we’re going to do. This lady and her young friend want to have a word with the queen, so you’re going to take us to the throne room.”
“The queen?” Sariss gasped. “No one goes into her presence without permission. I-I can’t do it.”
“This conversation has suddenly taken a definite turn for the worse.” Issus looked over at Polgara. “Would you like to turn your head, Lady?” he asked politely. “The sight of a man with his brains oozing out of his ears makes some people queasy.”
“Please,” Sariss begged him. “I can’t. The queen will kill me if I take you into the throne room without being summoned.”
“And I’ll kill you if you don’t. Somehow, I’ve got the feeling that this isn’t going to be one of your good days, Sariss. Now get on your feet.” The assassin jerked the trembling fat man from his chair.
They stepped out into the corridor with the eunuch leading the way. Sweat was streaming down his face, and there was a wild look in his eyes.
“No blunders, Sariss,” Issus warned. “Remember that I’m right behind you.”
The two burly guards at the entrance to the throne room bowed respectfully to the Chief Eunuch and swung the heavy doors open for him.
Salmissra’s throne room was unchanged. The enormous stone statue of Issa, the Serpent God, still loomed behind the dais at the far end of the room. The crystal lamps still glowed dimly on their silver chains, and the two dozen bald and crimson-robed eunuchs still knelt on the polished floor, ready to murmur in unison their phrases of adoration. Even the gold-framed mirror still stood on its pedestal at the side of the divanlike throne.
Salmissra herself, however, was dreadfully changed. She was no longer the beautiful, sensuous woman Garion had seen when, drugged and bemused, he had first been led into her presence. She lay on her throne with her mottled coils undulating restlessly. Her polished scales gleamed in the lamplight, and her flat reptile’s head rose on its long, thin neck, with the golden crown of the serpent queen resting lightly above her dead, incurious eyes.
She glanced briefly at them as they entered, then turned back to regard her reflection in the mirror. “I do not recall having summoned you, Sariss,” she said in a dry, dusty whisper.
“The queen questions the Chief Eunuch,” the two dozen shaven-headed men kneeling near the dais intoned in unison.
“Forgive me, Eternal Salmissra,” the eunuch pleaded, prostrating himself on the floor before the throne. “I was forced to bring these strangers into your presence. They threatened to kill me if I refused.”
“Then you should have died, Sariss,” the serpent whispered. “You know that I do not like to be disturbed.”
“The queen is displeased,” half of the kneeling eunuchs murmured.
“Ah,” the other half responded with a certain spiteful satisfaction.
Salmissra swung her swaying head slightly to fix her eyes on Issus. “I seem to know you,” she said.
The one-eyed man bowed. “Issus, your Majesty,” he replied. “The assassin.”
“I do not wish to be disturbed just now,” the Serpent Queen told him in her emotionless whisper. “If that means that you’re going to kill Sariss, please take him out into the corridor to do it.”
“We will not disturb you for long, Salmissra,” Polgara said, pushing back the hood of her cloak.
The snake’s head turned slowly, her forked tongue tasting the air. “Ah, Polgara,” she hissed without any evident surprise. “It has been some time since your last visit.”
“Several years,” Polgara agreed.
“I no longer take note of the years.” Salmissra’s dead gaze turned to Garion. “And Belgarion,” she said. “I see that you’re not a boy any more.”
“No,” he replied, fighting down an involuntary shudder.
“Come closer,” she whispered. “Once you thought that I was beautiful and yearned for my kiss. Would you like to kiss me now?”
Garion felt a strange compulsion to obey and found that he could not take his eyes from those of the Serpent Queen. Not even aware that he did it, he took a hesitant step toward the dais.
“The fortunate one approaches the throne,” the eunuchs murmured.
“Garion!” Polgara said sharply.
“I will not hurt him, Polgara. I never intended to hurt him.”
“I have a few questions for you, Salmissra,” Polgara said coldly. “Once you answer them, we’ll leave you to your entertainments.”
“What manner of questions, Polgara? What could I possibly know that your sorcery could not ferret out?”
“You recently met a Malloreon named Naradas,” Polgara said. “A man with colorless eyes.”
“Is that his name? Sariss never told me.”
“You made an arrangement with him.”
“Did I?”
“At his request, you sent diplomats to Sendaria. Among them was a foreigner named Zandramas. Your diplomats were instructed to give the foreigner every possible assistance in getting to Halberg on the west coast of Cherek. You also ordered a ship to the Isle of the Winds to bring Zandramas back to Nyissa.”
“I gave no such orders, Polgara. I have no interest in the affairs of Zandramas.”
“The name is familiar to you?”
“Of course. I told you once that the priests of Angarak and the sorcerers of Aloria are not the only ones who can find a truth that lies hidden. I know of your desperate pursuit of the one who took Belgarion’s son from the Citadel at Riva.”
“But you say that you were in no way involved in the arrangements?”
“The one you call Naradas came to me with gifts,” Salmissra whispered, “but said nothing more than that he wished my permission to trade here in Nyissa.”
“Then how do you explain this?” Aunt Pol took the parchment sheet Sadi had given her from under her cloak.
Salmissra flicked her tongue at one of the kneeling eunuchs. “Bring it to me,” she ordered.
The eunuch leaped to his feet, took the parchment from Aunt Pol, and then knelt on the edge of the dais, holding the sheet open and extended toward his queen.
“This is not the order I gave,” Salmissra said flatly after the briefest of glances. “I ordered the diplomats to Sendaria—nothing more. Your copy is not accurate, Polgara.”
“Would the original be about anywhere?” Garion asked her.
“Sariss should have it.”
^ Garion looked at the fat eunuch groveling on the floor. “Where is it?” he demanded.
Sariss stared at him, then his gaze went in terror to the enthroned serpent.
Garion considered several alternatives but discarded most of them in favor of simplicity. “Make him talk, Issus,” he said shortly.
The one-eyed man stepped over, straddled the trembling eunuch, and grasped his chin firmly from behind. Then he pulled up sharply until Sariss was arched backward. The saw-edged dagger made a steely grating sound as it came out of its sheath.
“Wait!” Sariss begged in a choked voice. “It—it’s in the drawer at the bottom of my wardrobe in my room.”
“Your methods are direct, assassin,” the queen observed.
“I’m a simple man, your Majesty,” Issus replied. “I do not have the temperament for subtlety nor intricacy. I’ve found that directness saves time in the long run.” He released the terrified Sariss and pushed his UIgo dagger back into his sheath. He looked at Garion. “Do you want me to go get the parchment?” he asked.
“I think we’re going to need it.”
“All right.” Issus turned and left the room.
“An interesting man,” Salmissra noted. She bent and caressingly touched her mottled coils with her blunt nose. “My life is much changed since you were last here, Polgara,” she whispered in her dusty voice. “I am no longer driven by those hungers I had before, but pass my days instead in restless doze. I lull myself into slumber with the sweet sound of my own scales caressing each other. As I sleep, I dream. I dream of mossy caves in deep, cool forests, and I dream of the days when I was still a woman. But sometimes in my dreams, I am a bodiless spirit, seeking out the truths that others would hide. I know of the fear which lies in your heart, Polgara, and the desperate need that drives Zandramas. I even know of the terrible task which lies upon Cyradis.”
“But you still say that you are not involved in this matter?”
“I have no interest in it. You and Zandramas can pursue each other across all the kingdoms of the world, but I am incurious as to the outcome.”
Aunt Pol’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her.
“I have no reason to He to you, Polgara,” Salmissra said, sensing the suspicion in that look. “What could Zandramas possibly offer me that would buy my aid? All of my needs are satisfied, and I no longer have desires.” Her blunt head came up and her tongue flickered. “I rejoice, however, that your quest has brought you again into my presence so that I may gaze once more upon the perfection of your face.”
Polgara’s chin lifted. “Look quickly then, Salmissra. I have little patience for the involuted amusements of a snake.”
“The centuries have made you waspish, Polgara. Let us be civil to one another. Would you like to have me tell you what I know of Zandramas? She is no longer what she once was.”
“She!” Garion exclaimed.
“You did not even know that?” the serpent hissed maliciously. “Your sorcery is a sham, then, Polgara. Could you not sense your enemy is a woman? And did you perhaps not even realize that you have already met her?”
“What are you talking about, Salmissra?”
“Poor, dear Polgara. The long, long centuries have filled your wits with cobwebs. Did you really think that you and Belgarath are the only ones in the world who can change their shapes? The dragon who visited you in the mountains above Arendia appears quite different when she resumes her natural form.”
The door to the throne room opened and Issus came back in, holding a parchment sheet with a red wax seal on the bottom of it.
“Bring it to me,” Salmissra commanded.
Issus looked at her, his single eye narrowing as he gauged the distance between the serpent’s throne and his own unprotected skin. Then he went over to the prostrate eunuch who had presented Polgara’s document to the queen. Without changing expression, he kicked the man solidly in the ribs. “Here,” he said, thrusting out the parchment. “Take this to her Majesty.”
“Are you afraid of me, Issus?” Salmissra asked, sounding faintly amused.
“I am unworthy to approach you too closely, my Queen.”
Salmissra bent her head to examine the parchment the trembling eunuch held out for her to read. “There appears to be some discrepancy,” she hissed. “This document is the same as the one you showed me, Polgara, but it is not the document to which I ordered my seal affixed. How is this possible?”
“May I speak, my Queen?” the eunuch who held the parchment asked in a quavering voice.
“Of course, Adiss,” she replied almost pleasantly, “so long as you realize that if your words displease me, the kiss I will give you in payment will bring you death.” Her forked tongue flickered out toward him.
The eunuch’s face went a ghastly gray color, and his trembling became so violent that he very nearly collapsed.
“Speak, Adiss,” she whispered. “It is my command that you disclose your mind to me. We will determine then whether you live or die. Speak. Now.”
“My Queen,” he quavered, “the Chief Eunuch is the only %. person in the palace permitted to touch your Majesty’s royal seal. If the document in question is false, must we not look to him for an explanation?”
The serpent considered that, her head swaying rhythmically back and forth and her forked tongue flickering. At last she stopped her reptilian dance and leaned slowly forward until her tongue brushed the cringing eunuch’s cheek. “Live, Adiss,” she murmured. “Your words have not displeased me, and so my kiss grants the gift of life.” Then she reared her mottled form again and regarded Sariss with her dead eyes. “Do you have an explanation, Sariss? As our most excellent servant Adiss has pointed out, you are my Chief Eunuch. You affixed my seal. How did this discrepancy come to pass?”
“My Queen—” His mouth gaped open, and his dead-white face froze in an expression of stark terror.
The still-shaken Adiss half rose, his eyes filled with a sudden wild hope. He held up the parchment in his hand and turned to his crimson-robed companions kneeling to one side of the dais. “Behold,” he cried in a triumphant voice. “Behold the proof of the Chief Eunuch’s misconduct!”
The other eunuchs looked first at Adiss and then at the groveling and terrified Chief Eunuch. Their eyes also furtively tried to read the enigmatic expression on Salmissra’s face. “Ah,” they said in unison at last.
“I’m still waiting, Sariss,” the Serpent Queen whispered.
Sariss, however, quite suddenly scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the throne room door, squealing in mindless, animal panic. As fast as his sudden flight was, though, Issus was even faster. The shabby, one-eyed assassin bounded after the fleeing fat man, his horrid dagger leaping into his hand. With the other he caught the back of the Chief Eunuch’s crimson robe and jerked him up short. He raised his knife and looked inquiringly at Salmissra.
“Not yet, Issus,” she decided. “Bring him to me.”
Issus grunted and dragged his struggling captive toward the throne. Sariss, squealing and gibbering in terror, scrambled his feet ineffectually on the polished floor.
“I will have an answer from you, Sariss,” Salmissra whispered.
“Talk,” Issus said in a flat voice, setting his dagger point against the eunuch’s lower eyelid. He pushed slightly, and a sudden trickle of bright-red blood ran down the fat man’s cheek.
Sariss squealed and began to blubber. “Forgive me, your Majesty,” he begged. “The Malloreon Nadaras compelled it of me.”
“How did you do it, Sariss?” the serpent demanded implacably.
“M put your seal at the very bottom of the page, Divine Salmissra,” he blurted. “Then when I was alone, I added the other orders.”
“And were there other orders as well?” Aunt Pol asked him. “Will we encounter hindrances and traps on the trail of Zandramas?”
“No. Nothing. I gave no orders other than that Zandramas be escorted to the Murgo border and provided the maps she required. I pray you, your Majesty. Forgive me.”
“That is quite impossible, Sariss,” she hissed. “It had been my intention to hold myself aloof in the dispute between Polgara and Zandramas, but now I am involved because you have abused my trust in you.”
“Shall I kill him?” Issus asked calmly.
“No, Issus,” she replied. “Sariss and I will share a kiss, as is the custom in this place.” She looked oddly at him. “You are an interesting man, assassin,” she said. “Would you like to enter my service? I am certain that a position can be found for one of your talents.”
Adiss the eunuch gasped, his face suddenly going pale. “But your Majesty,” he protested, leaping to his feet, “your servants have always been eunuchs, and this man is—” He faltered, suddenly realizing the temerity of his rash outburst.
Salmissra’s dead eyes locked on his, and he sank white-faced to the floor again. “You disappoint me, Adiss,” she said in that dusty whisper. She turned back to the one-eyed assassin. “Well, Issus?” she said. “A man of your talents could rise to great eminence, and the procedure, I’m told, is a minor one. You would soon recover and enter the service of your queen.”
“Ah—I’m honored, your Majesty,” he replied carefully, “but I’d really prefer to remain more or less intact. There’s a certain edge my profession requires, and I’d rather not endanger that by tampering with things.” , “I see.” She swung her head briefly to look at the cow-Bering Adiss and then back to the assassin. “You have made an enemy today, however, I think—and one that may some day grow quite powerful.”
Issus shrugged. “I’ve had many enemies,” he replied. “A few of them are even still alive.” He gave the cowering eunuch a flinty look. “If Adiss wants to pursue the matter, he and I can discuss it privately some day—or perhaps late some night when our discussions won’t disturb anyone.”
“We must leave now,” Polgara said. “You have been most helpful, Salmissra. Thank you.”
“I am indifferent to your gratitude,” Salmissra replied. “I do not think that I will see you again, Polgara. I think that Zandramas is more powerful than you and that she will destroy you.”
“Only time can reveal that.”
“Indeed. Farewell, Polgara.”
“Good-bye, Salmissra.” Polgara deliberately turned her back on the dais. “Come along, Canon—Issus,” she said.
“Sariss,” Salmissra said in a peculiar, almost singing tone, “come to me.” Garion glanced back over his shoulder and saw that she had reared her mottled body until it rose high above the dais and her velvet-covered throne. She swayed rhythmically back and forth. Her dead eyes had come alight with a kind of dreadful hunger and they burned irresistibly beneath her scaly brows.
Sariss, his mouth agape and with his piglike eyes frozen and devoid of all thought, lurched toward the dais with jerky, stiff-legged steps.
“Come, Sariss,” Salmissra crooned. “I long to embrace you and give you my kiss.”
Aunt Pol, Garion, and Issus reached the ornately carved door and went quietly into the corridor outside. They had gone no more than a few yards when there came from the throne room a sudden shrill scream of horror, dying hideously into a gurgling, strangled squeal.
“I think that the position of Chief Eunuch just became vacant,” Issus observed dryly. Then, as they continued on down the dimly lighted hallway he turned to Polgara. “Now, my Lady,” he said, ticking the items off on his fingers, “first of all there was the fee for getting you and the young man into the palace. Then there was the business of persuading Sariss to take us to the throne room, and then ...”