"I've always admired Cherek architecture," Silk said sardonically. "It's so unanticipated."
"Expanding the palace gives weak kings something to do," King Fulrach
observed. "It's not a bad idea, really. In Sendaria bad kings usually
devote their time to street-paving projects, but all of Val Alorn was
paved thousands of years ago."
Silk laughed. "It's always been a problem, your Majesty," he said. "How do you keep bad kings out of mischief?"
"Prince Kheldar," King Fulrach said, "I don't wish your uncle any
misfortune, but I think it might be very interesting if the crown of
Drasnia just happened to fall to you."
"Please, your Majesty," Silk said with feigned shock, "don't even suggest that."
"Also a wife," the Earl of Seline said slyly. "The prince definitely needs a wife."
"That's even worse," Silk said with a shudder.
The throne room of King Anheg was a vaulted chamber with a great fire
pit in the center where whole logs blazed and crackled. Unlike the
lushly draped hall of King Fulrach, the stone walls here were bare, and
torches flared and smoked in iron rings sunk in the stone. The men who
lounged near the fire were not the elegant courtiers of Fulrach's court,
but rather were bearded Cherek warriors, gleaming in chain mail. At one
end of the room sat five thrones, each surmounted by a banner. Four of
the thrones were occupied, and three regal-looking women stood talking
nearby.
"Fulrach, King of Sendaria!" one of the warriors who had escorted
them boomed, striking the butt of his spear hollowly on the rush-strewn
stone floor.
"Hail, Fulrach," a large, black-bearded man on one of the thrones
called, rising to his feet. His long blue robe was wrinkled and spotted,
and his hair was shaggy and unkempt. The gold crown he wore was dented
in a place or two, and one of its points had been broken off.
"Hail, Anheg," the King of the Sendars replied, bowing slightly. "Thy
throne awaits thee, my dear Fulrach," the shaggy-haired man said,
indicating the banner of Sendaria behind the one vacant throne. "The
Kings of Aloria welcome the wisdom of the King of Sendaria at this
council."
Garion found the stilted, archaic form of address strangely impressive.
"Which king is which, friend Silk?" Durnik whispered as they approached the thrones.
"The fat one in the red robe with the reindeer on his banner is my
uncle, Rhodar of Drasnia. The lean-faced one in black under the horse
banner is Cho-Hag of Algaria. The big, grim-faced one in gray with no
crown who sits beneath the sword banner is Brand, the Rivan Warder."
"Brand?" Garion interrupted, startled as he remembered the stories of the Battle of Vo Mimbre.
"All Rivan Warders are named Brand," Silk explained.
King Fulrach greeted each of the other kings in the formal language
that seemed to be customary, and then he took his place beneath the
green banner with its golden sheaf of wheat that was the emblem of
Sendaria.
"Hail Belgarath, Disciple of Aldur," Anheg said, "and hail Lady Polgara, honored daughter of immortal Belgarath."
"There's little time for all this ceremony, Anheg," Mister Wolf said
tartly, throwing back his cloak and striding forward. "Why have the
Kings of Aloria summoned me?"
"Permit us our little ceremonies, Ancient One," Rhodar, the grossly
fat King of Drasnia said slyly. "We so seldom have the chance to play
king. We won't be much longer at it."
Mister Wolf shook his head in disgust.
One of the three regal-looking women came forward then. She was a
tall, raven-haired beauty in an elaborately cross-tied black velvet
gown. She curtsied to King Fulrach and touched her cheek briefly to his.
"Your Majesty," she said, "your presence honors our home."
"Your Highness," Fulrach replied, inclining his head respectfully.
"Queen Islena," Silk murmured to Durnik and Garion, "Anheg's wife."
The little man's nose twitched with suppressed mirth. "Watch her when
she greets Polgara."
The queen turned and curtsied deeply to Mister Wolf. "Divine Belgarath," she said, her rich voice throbbing with respect.
"Hardly divine, Islena," the old man said dryly.
"Immortal son of Aldur," she swept on, ignoring the interruption,
"mightiest sorcerer in all the world. My poor house trembles at the
awesome power you bring within its walls."
"A pretty speech, Islena," Wolf said. "A little inaccurate, but pretty all the same."
But the queen had already turned to Aunt Pol. "Glorious sister," she intoned.
"Sister?" Garion was startled.
"She's a mystic," Silk said softly. "She dabbles a bit in magic and thinks of herself as a sorceress. Watch."
With an elaborate gesture the queen produced a green jewel and presented it to Aunt Pol.
"She had it up her sleeve," Silk whispered gleefully.
"A royal gift, Islena," Aunt Pol said in a strange voice. "A pity
that I can only offer this in return." She handed the queen a single
deep red rose.
"Where did she get that?" Garion asked in amazement. Silk winked at him.
The queen looked at the rose doubtfully and cupped it between her two
hands. She examined it closely, and her eyes widened. The color drained
out of her face, and her hands began to tremble.
The second queen had stepped forward. She was a tiny blonde with a
beautiful smile. Without ceremony she kissed King Fulrach and then
Mister Wolf and embraced Aunt Pol warmly. Her affection seemed simple
and unselfconscious.
"Porenn, Queen of Drasnia," Silk said, and his voice had an odd note
to it. Garion glanced at him and saw the faintest hint of a bitter, self
mocking expression flicker across his face. In that single instant, as
clearly as if it had suddenly been illuminated by a bright light, Garion
saw the reason for Silk's sometimes strange manner. An almost
suffocating surge of sympathy welled up in his throat.
The third queen, Silar of Algaria, greeted King Fulrach, Mister Wolf and Aunt Pol with a few brief words in a quiet voice.
"Is the Rivan Warder unmarried?" Durnik asked, looking around for another queen.
"He had a wife," Silk said shortly, his eyes still on Queen Porenn, "but she died some years ago. She left him four sons."
"Ah," Durnik said.
Then Barak, grim-faced and obviously angry, entered the hall and strode to King Anheg's throne.
"Welcome home, cousin," King Anheg said. "I thought perhaps you'd lost your way."
"Family business, Anheg," Barak said. "I had to have a few words with my wife."