“The Empty One,” Eriond said with a slight note of satisfaction in his voice. “It’s almost complete now.”
“I don’t quite follow you,” Sadi confessed.
“Cyradis came to us at Rheon,” the young man explained. “She told us who would come with us to the Place Which Is No More. I’ve been wondering who the Empty One would be. Now I know.”
“And how did she describe me?” the eunuch asked.
“Are you really sure you want to know?”
“I have a certain curiosity about it, yes.”
“She called you the Man Who Is No Man.”
Sadi winced. “That’s direct enough, isn’t it?”
“You did ask.”
Sadi sighed. “It’s all right, Eriond,” he said. “The procedure took place when I was a baby, so I've never known what it might be like to be different. Actually, I find all this interest in that particular function slightly amusing. Mine is a much less complicated way of life.”
“Why did they do it to you?”
Sadi shrugged, rubbing his hand over his shaved scalp. “My mother was poor,” he replied. “It was the only gift she could give me.”
“Gift?”
“It gave me the chance for employment in Queen Salmissra’s palace. Otherwise, I’d have probably been a street beggar like the rest of my family.”
“Are you all right?” Garion asked the ashen-faced Zakath.
“Just leave me alone, Garion,” Zakath muttered.
“Why don’t you let me deal with it, dear?” Polgara suggested to Garion. “This is very difficult for him.”
“I can understand that. It didn’t come too easily for me, either.”
“And we broke it to you gently. Cyradis didn’t have time to be gentle. I’ll talk with him.”
“All right, Aunt Pol.” Garion walked away and left her alone with the shaken Zakath. This particular turn of events gave him some misgivings. Although he liked the Mallorean Emperor personally, he could foresee any number of difficulties arising from the inclusion of this man in their party. Quite often in the past, their very survival had depended entirely upon the absolute oneness of purpose of every member of the group, and Zakath’s motives were never really clear.
“Garion,” the voice in his mind said wearily, “don’t tamper with things you don’t understand. Zakath has to go with you, so you might as well get used to the idea.”
“But—”
“No huts. Just do it. “
Garion muttered a few oaths under his breath.
“And don’t swear at me, either. “
“This is an absurdity!” Zakath burst out, slumping into a chair.
“No,” Polgara disagreed. “You just have to get used to looking at the world in a different way, that’s all. For most people, that’s not necessary. You’re a member of a very select group now, and different rules apply.”
“Rules have never applied to me, Lady Polgara. I make my own rules.”
“Not any more.”
“Why me?” Zakath demanded.
“That’s always the first question they ask,” Belgarath said dryly to Silk.
“Has anybody ever answered it?”
“Not to my knowledge, no.”
“We can instruct you as we go along,” Polgara assured Zakath. “The only important thing right now is whether or not you intend to honor your commitment to Cyradis.”
“Of course I do. I gave my word. I don’t like it, but I don’t have any choice. How can she possibly manipulate me the way she does?”
“She has very strange powers.”
“She does it by sorcery, you mean?”
“No. By truth.”
“Did you understand any of that gibberish she was speaking?”
“Some of it, but certainly not all. I told you that we look at the world in a different way. The seers look at it in yet another. No one who does not share their vision can fully understand it.”
Zakath stared at the floor. “I suddenly feel very helpless,” he admitted, “and I don’t like the feeling. I’ve been rather effectively dethroned, you know. This morning I was the Emperor of the largest nation on earth; this afternoon, I’m going to be a vagabond.”
“You might find it refreshing,” Silk told him lightly.
“Shut up, Kheldar,” Zakath said almost absently. He looked back at Polgara. “You know something rather peculiar?”
“What’s that?”
“Even if I hadn’t given my word, I’d still have to go to Kell. It’s almost like a compulsion. I feel as if I’m being driven, and my driver is a blindfolded girl who’s hardly more than a child.”
“There are rewards,” she told him.
“Such as what?”
“Who knows? Happiness, perhaps.”
He laughed ironically. “Happiness has never been a driving ambition of mine, Lady Polgara, not for a long time now.”
“You may have to accept it anyway.” She smiled. “We aren’t allowed to choose our rewards any more than we are our tasks. Those decisions are made for us.”
“Are you happy?”
“Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”
He sighed.
“And why so great a sigh, Kal Zakath?”
He held up his thumb and forefinger spread an inch or so apart. “I was that close to becoming the master of the entire world.”
“Why would you want to be?”
He shrugged. “No one’s ever done it before, and power has its satisfactions.”
“You’ll find other satisfactions, I’m sure,” she smiled, laying one hand on his shoulder.
“It’s settled?” Belgarath asked the Mallorean.
“Nothing is ever really settled, Belgarath,” Zakath replied. “Not until we’re in our graves; but yes, I’ll go to Kell with you.”
“Why don’t you send for Atesca, then? You’ll need to tell him where you’re going, so he can at least cover our rear. I don’t like having people sneak up behind me. Has Urvon made it across the Magan as yet?”
“That’s very hard to say. Have you looked outside today, Belgarath?”
“The tent door is guarded, and Atesca’s soldiers don’t encourage sight-seeing.”
“The fog’s so thick you could walk on it. Urvon could be anyplace out there.”
Polgara rose and quickly crossed to the tent flap. She opened it, and one of the guards outside said something to her sharply.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she told him. Then she took several deep breaths and closed the flap. “It’s not natural, father,” «he said soberly. “It doesn’t smell right.”
“Grolims?”
“I think so, yes. Probably Chandim trying to conceal
Urvon’s forces from Atesca’s patrol boats. They should be able to cross the Magan without much difficulty.”
“Once they get across, the trip to Kell might just turn into a horse race.”
“I’ll talk to Atesca,” Zakath said. “He might be able to delay them a bit.” He looked speculatively at the old man. “I know why I’m going to Kell,” he said, “but why are you!”
“I have to read the Mallorean Gospels to find out what our ultimate destination is.”
“You mean you don’t know?”
“Not yet, no. I know what it’s called, though. They keep calling it the Place Which Is No More.”
“Belgarath, that’s pure gibberish.”
“I didn’t come up with the name, so don’t blame me,”
“Why didn’t you say something back at Mat Zeth? I have a copy of the Gospels in my library.”
“In the first place, I didn’t know about it when I was at Mal Zeth. I only found out recently. In the second place, your copy wouldn’t have done me any good. They’re all different, I’m told, and the only one that contains the passage I need is at Kell.”
“It all sounds very complicated.”
“It is. These things usually are.”
Zakath went to the door of the tent and spoke briefly with one of the guards posted there. Then he came back. “I’ve sent for Atesca and Brador,” he said. He smiled a bit ruefully. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they objected rather violently to this whole thing.”
“Don’t give them time to object,” Garion advised.
“They’re both Melcenes, Garion,” Zakath pointed out. “Melcenes object to things out of habit.” He frowned. “Speaking of that, why did you go to Melcena? Wasn’t it a bit out of your way?”
“We were following Zandramas,” Garion replied.
“Why did she go there?”
“She had to pick up your cousin, Archduke Otrath.”
“That silly ass? What for?”
“She took him to Hemil and crowned him Emperor of Mallorea.”
“She did what?!" Zakath’s eyes bulged.
“She needs an Angarak king with her when she gets to the Place Which Is No More. As I understand it, the coronation ceremony had a certain validity.”
“Not after I get my hands on Otrath, it won’t!” Zakath’s face was scarlet with anger.
**There was another reason for our going to Melcena— although we didn’t know it at the time,” Belgarath said. “There was an unmutilated copy of the Ashabine Oracles there. I had to read that in order to find out that our next Step is the trip to Kell. I’m following a trail that was laid down for me thousands of years ago.” ‘. Atesca and Brador entered. “You sent for us, your Majesty?” Atesca said with a crisp salute.
“Yes,” Zakath replied. He looked at the two of them speculatively. “Please listen carefully,” he instructed, “and try not to argue with me.” Oddly he said it not so much in the tone of imperial command, but rather as a man appealing to two old friends. “There’s been a change of plans,” ^Ss went on. “Certain information has come into my pos-session, and it’s absolutely imperative that we not interfere with Belgarion and his friends. Their mission is vital to the security of Mallorea.”
Brador’s eyes came alight with curiosity. “Shouldn’t I perhaps be briefed on this matter, your Imperial Majesty?” he asked. “State security is my responsibility, after all.”
“Ah—no, Brador,” Zakath said regretfully, “I’m afraid not. It might require too great an adjustment in your thinking. You’re not ready for that. As a matter of fact, I’m not f sure I am, either. At any rate, Belgarion and these others absolutely must go to Dalasia.” He paused. “Oh, one other thing,” he added. “I’ll be going with them.”
Atesca stared incredulously at his Emperor. Then, with some effort, he got himself under control. “I’ll notify the commander of the Imperial Guard, your Majesty,” he said stiffly. “They’ll be ready to leave within the hour.”
“Don’t bother,” Zakath told him. “They won’t be going with us. I’ll be going with Belgarion alone.”
“Alone?” Atesca exclaimed. “Your Majesty, that’s unheard of.”
Zakath smiled wanly. “You see,” he said to Garion. “What did I tell you?”
“General,” Belgarath said to Atesca, “Kal Zakath is simply following orders. I’m sure you can understand that. He was told not to bring any troops along. Troops wouldn’t do him any good where we’re going anyway.”
“Orders?” Atesca said in amazement. “Who has the authority to give his Majesty orders?”
“It’s a long story, Atesca,” the old man told him, “and we’re pressed for time.”
“Ah—your Imperial Majesty,” Brador said diffidently, “if you’re going to Dalasia, that means you’ll have to cross the whole of Darshiva. Might I remind you that Darshiva is hostile territory at the moment? Is it wise to risk the imperial person under such circumstances? Might not an escort at least as far as the border be prudent?”
Zakath looked at Belgarath.
The old man shook his head. “Let’s just do it the way we were told to,” he said.
“Sorry, Brador,” Zakath said. “We can’t take an escort with us. I think I’ll need some armor, though, and a sword.”
“Your Majesty has not held a sword for years,” Atesca objected.
“Belgarion can give me some instruction.” Zakath shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll pick it up again. Now then, Urvon’s going to cross the Magan. I have it on very good authority that there won’t be very much we can do to stop him. I imagine that the Darshivan Army won’t be very far behind him, and they have elephant cavalry with them. I want you to keep all those people off my back. Delay Urvon long enough for the Darshivans to catch up with him. After that, they can annihilate each other, for all I care. Once those two armies are fully engaged, pull back your forces. Don’t get any more of my soldiers killed than you absolutely have to.”
Atesca frowned. “Then the policy we discussed at Maga Renn is no longer in force?” he asked.
Zakath shrugged. “Policy changes from time to time,” he said. “At this point, I’m militantly indifferent about who wins an unimportant battle in this corner of the world. That may give you some idea of just how vital Belgarion’s mission is.” He looked at Garion. “Does that cover everything?”
“Except for the demons,” Garion replied. “They’re here in Darshiva, too.”
.Zakath frowned. “I’d forgotten about them. They’ll come to Urvon’s aid, won’t they?”
“Nahaz will,” Belgarath told him. “Mordja will help the Darshivans.”
“You’re going a little fast for me.”
“When Urvon showed up with Nahaz in tow, Zandramas raised a Demon Lord of her own,” the old man explained. “She went a little far afield for him, actually. Mordja is Lord over the demons in Morindland. He and Nahaz are evenly matched, and they’ve hated each other for all eternity.”
“Then it still appears to be a stalemate. Both sides have an army and they both have demons.”
“Demons are grossly unselective in their choice of victims, Zakath,” Polgara said. “They’ll kill anything that moves, and your own army’s here in Darshiva.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he conceded. He looked around. “Any suggestions?”
Belgarath and Polgara exchanged a long look. “I suppose it’s worth a try,” the old sorcerer shrugged. “He’s not fond of Angaraks, but He’s even less fond of demons. I think we’ll have better luck with Him if we go outside the camp, though.”
“Exactly who are we talking about?” Zakath asked curiously.
“Aldur,” Belgarath replied. He scratched at his cheek.
“Would it be safe to tell Him that you’d be very reluctant to go with us if your army was in danger?” he asked.
“I think you could say that, yes.” Zakath’s eyes widened. “Are you trying to say you can actually summon a God?” he asked incredulously.
“I’m not sure if summon is exactly the right word. We can talk with Him, though. We’ll see what He says.”
“You’re not really going to try subterfuge, are you, father?” Polgara asked the old man.
“Aldur knows what I’m doing,” he replied. “I couldn’t deceive Him if I tried. Zakath’s reluctance just gives us a starting point for the conversation. Aldur’s reasonable, but He’s always liked a good argument. You should know that, Pol. He helped to educate you, after all. Let’s see if we can talk with Him.”
“Would it be all right if I came along?” Eriond asked. “I need to talk with Him, too.”
Belgarath looked a bit surprised at that. He looked for a moment as if he were about to refuse, but then he seemed to change his mind. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Atesca, could you have your guards escort us as far as that ditch around the outside of the camp? We’ll go on from there alone.”
Atesca spoke with the guards at the door of the tent, and the three were allowed to leave without challenge.
“I’d give a great deal to witness this meeting,” Brador murmured. “Have you ever seen Aldur, Prince Kheldar?”
“A couple of times, yes,” Silk replied in an offhand manner. “Once in the Vale and then again at Cthol Mishrak when He and the other Gods came to claim the body of Torak after Garion killed Him.”
“I’d imagine that He took a certain satisfaction in that,” Zakath said. “Aldur and Torak were sworn enemies.”
“No,” Garion disagreed sadly. “No one took any pleasure in the death of Torak. He and Aldur were brothers. I think UL grieved the most, though. Torak was His son, after all.”
“There seem to be some fairly huge gaps in Angarak theology,” Zakath mused. “I don’t think the Grolims even admit the existence of UL.”
“They would if they ever saw Him,” Silk said.
“Is He really that impressive-looking?” Brador asked.
“It’s not so much the way He looks.” Silk shrugged. “It’s the sense of His presence. It’s overwhelming.”
“He was very nice to me,” Ce’Nedra objected.
“Everybody’s nice to you, Ce’Nedra,” Silk told her. “You have that effect on people.”
“Most of the time,” Garion corrected.
“I suppose we’d better start packing,” Durnik suggested. “I think Belgarath’s going to want to leave just as soon as he gets back.” He looked at Atesca. “Do you suppose we could get a few things from your stores?” he asked. “It’s a long way to Kell, and I don’t think we’ll be able to pick up much in the way of supplies here in Darshiva.”
“Of course, Goodman Durnik,” the general replied.
“I’ll make out a list of the things we’ll need, then.”
As Durnik sat down at the table to draw up his list, Atesca gave Silk a penetrating look. “We never did get the chance to talk about your recent venture in the commodities market, did we, your Highness?” he said.
“Are you considering a second career, Atesca?” Zakath asked him.
“Hardly, your Majesty. I’m quite happy as a soldier. Prince Kheldar recently did a bit of speculation in this year’s bean crop. The Bureau of Military Procurement went into a state of anguished consternation when they found out his asking price.”
Brador suddenly chuckled. “Good for you, Kheldar,” he said.
“That’s a peculiar attitude, Brador,” Zakath reproved him. “How would you like it if I took Prince Kheldar’s excess profits out of your budget?”
“Actually, your Majesty, Kheldar’s venture didn’t cost your treasury a thing. The members of the Bureau of Military Procurement are the greatest unhanged scoundrels in the empire. Some years ago, while you were busy in Cthol Murgos, they sent you a rather innocuous-looking document having to do with standardizing the prices of all the items they purchase for the army.”
“I remember it—vaguely. Their argument seemed to be that it would provide a basis for long-range planning.”
“That was on the surface, your Majesty. In actuality, fixing those prices provided them with a golden opportunity to line their own pockets. They could buy at below the fixed price, sell to the army at the legal rate, and keep the difference for themselves.”
“What is the fixed rate on beans?”
“Ten half-crowns per hundredweight, your Majesty.”
“That doesn’t seem unreasonable.”
“When they’re buying at three half-crowns?”
Zakath stared at him.
Brador held up one hand. “However,” he said, “by law, they have to sell to the army at ten—no matter what price they have to pay, so they have to make up the difference out of their own pockets. That might account for the anguish General Atesca mentioned.”
Zakath suddenly grinned a wolfish sort of grin. “What price were you asking, Kheldar?” he asked.
“I sold out to the Melcene Consortium at fifteen.” The little man shrugged, buffing his nails on the front of his tunic. “I’d imagine that they added a few points to that-reasonable profit, you understand.”
“And you controlled the entire bean crop?”
“I certainly tried.”
“I feel fairly sure that your Majesty will receive several letters of resignation from members of the Bureau,” Brador said. “I’d advise not accepting them until after all accounts are settled.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Brador.” Zakath looked speculatively at Silk. “Tell me, Kheldar,” he said, “how much would you take to suspend operations here in Mallorea?”
“I don’t really believe your Majesty’s treasury has that much money,” Silk replied blandly. “Besides, I’ve become a sort of necessity. The Mallorean economy was stagnant until I got here. You could almost say that I’m working for you.”
“Did that make any sense?” Zakath asked Brador.
“Yes, your Majesty,” Brador sighed. “In a peculiar way, it does. Our tax revenues have been rising steadily since Kheldar and his scruffy-looking partner began doing business here in the empire. If we were to expel him, it’s entirely possible that the economy would collapse.”
“Then I’m at his mercy?”
“To some degree, yes, your Majesty.”
Zakath sighed mournfully. “I wish I hadn’t gotten out of bed this morning,” he said.
Both Belgarath and Polgara looked troubled when they returned with Eriond close behind them. The blond young man, however, looked as unconcerned as always.
“What did He say?” Garion asked.
“He didn’t like it too much,” Belgarath said, “but He finally agreed. General Atesca, how many troops do you have here in Darshiva?”
“Several hundred thousand. They’re in enclaves like this one up and down the east bank of the Magan. The bulk of our forces are across the river in Peldane. We can summon them on short notice.”
“Leave them where they are. Once you’ve delayed Urvon long enough to allow the Darshivan army to catch up with him, withdraw all your men to this enclave.”
“It’s hardly big enough for that many men, Ancient One,” Atesca pointed out.
“You’d better expand it, then. Aldur has agreed to protect this enclave. He didn’t say anything about any of the others. Bring your men here. He’ll keep the demons away.”
“How?” Brador asked curiously.
“Demons can’t bear the presence of a God. Neither Nahaz nor Mordja will come within ten leagues of this place.”
“He’s actually going to be here?”
“Only in a rather peculiar sense of the word. Once the enclave is expanded, that ditch of yours is going to be filled with a kind of blue light. Tell your men to stay out of it. Aldur’s still not fond of Angaraks, and peculiar things might happen to any soldier who strays into that light.” The old man suddenly grinned at Zakath. “You might find it interesting to know that your whole army here in Darshiva will be at least nominally subject to Aldur for a while,” he said. “He’s never had an army before, so it’s a little hard to say what he might decide to do with one.”
“Is your grandfather always like this?” Zakath asked Garion.
“Usually, yes.” Garion stood up, moving his fingers slightly. Then he crossed to the far side of the tent. Belgarath followed him. “What happened out there, Grand-lather?” Garion whispered.
Belgarath shrugged. “We talked with Aldur, and He promised to protect Zakath’s army.”
Garion shook his head. “No,” he said, “something else happened, too. Both you and Aunt Pol were looking very strange when you came back—and why did Eriond go with you?”
“It’s a long story,” the old man replied evasively.
“I’ve got time. I think I’d better know what’s going on.”
“No, as a matter of fact, you’d better not. Aldur was quite emphatic about that. If you know what’s happening, it might interfere with what you have to do.”
“I thought we’d exhausted that tired old excuse a long time ago. I’m grown now. You don’t have to try to keep me stupid.”
“I’ll tell you what, Garion. Since you’re the Child of Light, why don’t you go talk with Aldur yourself? He might even decide to tell you, but that’s up to Him. He told me to keep my mouth shut, and I’m not going to disobey my Master, whether you like it or not.” And he turned and went back to rejoin the others.