"Sometimes I wonder what they're saying when they sing," Ran Borune said.

"Right now he's telling me about the day he learned to fly," Aunt Pol said. "That's a very important day for a bird." She reached out her hand, and the canary hopped onto the Emperor's finger, still singing and with its bright eye c.o.c.ked toward Ran Borune's face.

"That's an amusing conceit, I suppose." The little old man smiled, staring out at the sunlight sparkling on the water in one of the fountains. "But I'm afraid I don't have time for that kind of thing. Right now the whole nation is holding its breath in antic.i.p.ation of my death. They all seem to think that the greatest thing I can do for Tolnedra is to die immediately. Some of them have even gone to the trouble of trying to help me along. We caught four a.s.sa.s.sins inside the palace grounds just last week. The Borunes, my own family, are deserting me to the point that I scarcely have enough people left to run the palace, much less the Empire. Ah, here comes Zereel."

A lean, bushy-browed man in a red mantle covered with mystic symbols scurried across the lawn and bowed deeply to the emperor. "You sent for me, your Highness?"

"I am informed that this woman is Polgara the Sorceress," the Emperor said, "and that the old man there is Belgarath. Be a good fellow, Zereel, and have a look into their credentials."

"Belgarath and Polgara?" the bushy-browed man scoffed. "Surely your Highness isn't serious. The names are mythological. No such people exist."

"You see," the Emperor said to Aunt Pol. "You don't exist. I have it on the very best authority. Zereel's a wizard himself, you know."

"Really?"

"One of the very best," he a.s.sured her. "Of course most of his tricks are just sleight of hand, since sorcery's only a sham, but he amuses me and he takes himself very seriously. You may proceed, Zereel, but try not to raise an awful stink, as you usually do."

"That won't be necessary, your Highness," Zereel said flatly. "If they were wizards of any kind, I'd have recognized them immediately. We have special ways of communicating, you know."

Aunt Pol looked at the wizard with one eyebrow slightly raised. "I think that you should look a bit closer, Zereel," she suggested. "Sometimes we miss things." She made an almost imperceptible gesture, and Garion seemed to hear a faint rush of sound.

The wizard stared, his eyes fixed on open air directly in front of him. His eyes began to bulge, and his face turned deathly pale. As if his legs had been cut from under him, he fell onto his face. "Forgive me, Lady Polgara," he croaked, groveling.

"That's supposed to impress me, I a.s.sume," the Emperor said. "I've seen men's minds overwhelmed before, however, and Zereel's mind isn't all that strong to begin with."

"This is getting tiresome, Ran Borune," she said tartly.

"You really ought to believe her, you know." The canary spoke in a tiny, piping voice. "I knew who she was immediately - of course we're much more perceptive than you things that creep around on the ground - why do you do that? If you'd just try, I'm sure you'd be able to fly. And I wish you'd stop eating so much garlic - it makes you smell awful."

"Hush, now," Aunt Pol said gently to the bird. "You can tell him all about it later."

The Emperor was trembling violently, and he stared at the bird as if it were a snake.

"Why don't we all just behave as if we believed that Polgara and I are who we say we are?" Mister Wolf suggested. "We could spend the rest of the day trying to convince you, and we really don't have that much time. There are some things I have to tell you, and they're important no matter who I am."

"I think I can accept that," Ran Borune said, still trembling and staring at the now-silent canary.

Mister Wolf clasped his hands behind his back and stared up at a cl.u.s.ter of bickering sparrows on the limb of a nearby tree. "Early last fall," he began, "Zedar the Apostate crept into the throne room at Riva and stole the Orb of Aldur."

"He did what?" Ran Borune demanded, sitting up quickly. "How?"

"We don't know," Wolf answered. "When I catch up with him, maybe I'll ask him. I'm sure, however, that you can see the importance of the event."

"Obviously," the Emperor said.

"The Alorns and the Sendars are quietly preparing for war," Wolf told him.

"War?" Ran Borune asked in a shocked voice. "With whom?"

"The Angaraks, of course."

"What's Zedar got to do with the Angaraks? He could be acting on his own, couldn't he?"

"Surely you're not that simple," Aunt Pol remarked.

"You forget yourself, Lady," Ran Borune said stiffly. "Where's Zedar now?"

"He went through Tol Honeth about two weeks ago," Wolf replied. "If he can get across the border into one of the Angarak kingdoms before I can stop him, the Alorns will march."

"And Arendia with them," Mandorallen said firmly. "King Korodullin has also been advised."

"You'll tear the world apart," the Emperor protested.

"Perhaps," Wolf admitted, "but we can't let Zedar get to Torak with the Orb."

"I'll send emissaries at once," Ran Borune said. "This has to be headed off before it gets out of hand."

"It's a little late for that," Barak said grimly. "Anheg and the others aren't in any mood for Tolnedran diplomacy right now."

"Your people have a bad reputation in the north, your Highness," Silk pointed out. "They always seem to have a few trade agreements up their sleeves. Every time Tolnedra mediates a dispute, it seems to cost a great deal. I don't think we can afford your good offices anymore."

A cloud pa.s.sed in front of the sun, and the garden seemed suddenly chilly in its shadow.

"This is being blown all out of proportion," the Emperor protested. "The Alorns and the Angaraks have been squabbling over that worthless stone for thousands of years. You've been waiting for the chance to fall on each other, and now you've got an excuse. Well, enjoy yourselves. Tolnedra's not going to get involved as long as I'm her Emperor."

"You're not going to be able to sit to one side in this, Ran Borune," Aunt Pol said.

"Why not? The Orb doesn't concern me one way or the other. Go ahead and destroy each other if you want. Tolnedra will still be here when it's all over."

"I doubt it," Wolf told him. "Your Empire's crawling with Murgos. They could overrun you in a week."

"They're honest merchants - here on honest business."

"Murgos don't have honest business," Aunt Pol told him. "Every Murgo in Tolnedra is here because he was sent by the Grolim High Priest."

"That's an exaggeration," Ran Borune said stubbornly. "The whole world knows that you and your father have an obsessive hatred of all Angaraks, but times have changed."

"Cthol Murgos is still ruled from Rak Cthol," Wolf said, "and Ctuchik is master there. Ctuchik hasn't changed, even if the world has. The merchants from Rak Goska might seem civilized to you, but they all jump when Ctuchik whistles, and Ctuchik's the disciple of Torak."

"Torak's dead."

"Really?" Aunt Pol said. "Have you seen his grave? Have you opened the grave and seen his bones?"

"My Empire's very expensive to run," the Emperor said, "and I need the revenue the Murgos bring me. I've got agents in Rak Goska and all along the South Caravan Route, so I'd know if the Murgos were getting ready for any kind of move against me. I'm just a little suspicious that all this might be the result of some internal contention within the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. You people have your own motives, and I'm not going to let you use my Empire as a p.a.w.n in your power struggles."

"And if the Angaraks win?" Aunt Pol said, "How do you plan to deal with Torak?"

"I'm not afraid of Torak."

"Have you ever met him?" Wolf asked.

"Obviously not. Listen, Belgarath, you and your daughter have never been friendly to Tolnedra. You treated us like a defeated enemy after Vo Mimbre. Your information's interesting, and I'll consider it in its proper perspective, but Tolnedran policy is not dominated by Alorn preconceptions. Our economy relies heavily on trade along the South Caravan Route. I'm not going to disrupt my Empire simply because you happen to dislike Murgos."

"You're a fool then," Wolf said bluntly.

"You'd be surprised at how many people think so," the Emperor replied. "Maybe you'll have better luck with my successor. If he's a Vorduvian or a Honeth, you might even be able to bribe him, but Borunes don't take bribes."

"Or advice," Aunt Pol added.

"Only when it suits us, Lady Polgara," Ran Borune said.

"I think we've done everything we can here," Wolf decided.

A bronze door at the back of the garden slammed open, and a tiny girl with flaming hair stormed through, her eyes ablaze. At first Garion thought she was a child, but as she came closer, he realized that she was somewhat older than that. Although she was very small, the short, sleeveless green tunic she wore displayed limbs that were much closer to maturity. He felt a peculiar kind of shock when he saw her - almost, but not quite, like recognition. Her hair was a tumbled ma.s.s with long, elaborate curls cascading down over her neck and shoulders, and it was a color that Garion had never seen before, a deep, burnished red that seemed somehow to glow from within. Her skin was a golden color that seemed, as she swept through the shadows of the trees near the gate, to have an almost greenish cast to it. She was in a state verging on sheer rage. "Why am I being kept prisoner here?" she demanded of the Emperor.

"What are you talking about?" Ran Borune asked.

"The legionnaires won't let me leave the palace grounds!"

"Oh," the Emperor said, "that."

"Exactly. That. "

"They're acting on my orders, Ce'Nedra," the Emperor told her.

"So they said. Tell them too stop it."

"No."

"No?" Her tone was incredulous. "No?" Her voice climbed several octaves. "What do you mean, no?"

"It's too dangerous for you to be out in the city just now," the Emperor said placatingly.

"Nonsense," she snapped. "I don't intend to sit around in this stuffy palace just because you're afraid of your own shadow. I need some things from the market."

"Send someone."

"I don't want to send anyone!" she shouted at him. "I want to go myself."

"Well, you can't," he said flatly. "Spend your time on your studies instead."

"I don't want to study," she cried. "Jeebers is a stuffy idiot, and he bores me. I don't want to sit around talking about history or politics or any of the rest of it. I just want an afternoon to myself."

"I'm sorry."

"Please, father," she begged, her tone dropping into a wheedling note. She took hold of one of the folds of his gold mantle and twisted it around one of her tiny fingers. "Please." The look she directed at the Emperor through her lashes would have melted stone.

"Absolutely not," he said, refusing to look at her. "My order stands. You will not leave the palace grounds."

"I hate you!" she cried. Then she ran from the garden in tears. "My daughter," the Emperor explained almost apologetically. "You can't imagine what it's like having a child like that."

"Oh, I can imagine, all right," Mister Wolf said, glancing at Aunt Pol. She looked back at him, her eyes challenging.

"Go ahead and say it, father," she told him. "I'm sure you won't be happy until you do."

Wolf shrugged. "Forget it."

Ran Borune looked thoughtfully at the two of them. "It occurs to me that we might be able to negotiate a bit here," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"What did you have in mind?" Wolf asked.

"You have a certain authority among the Alorns," the Emperor suggested.

"Some," Wolf admitted carefully.

"If you were to ask them, I'm sure they'd be willing to overlook one of the more absurd provisions of the Accords of Vo Mimbre."

"Which one is that?"

"There's really no necessity for Ce'Nedra to journey to Riva, is there? I'm the last emperor of the Borune Dynasty, and when I die, she won't be an Imperial Princess anymore. Under the circ.u.mstances, I'd say that the requirement doesn't really apply to her. It's nonsense anyway. The line of the Rivan King became extinct thirteen hundred years ago, so there isn't going to be any bridegroom waiting for her in the Hall of the Rivan King. As you've seen, Tolnedra's a very dangerous place just now. Ce'Nedra's sixteenth birthday's only a year or so off, and the date's well known. If I have to send her to Riva, half the a.s.sa.s.sins in the Empire are going to be lurking outside the palace gates, waiting for her to come out. I'd rather not take that kind of risk. If you could see your way clear to speak to the Alorns, I might be able to make a few concessions regarding the Murgos - restrictions on their numbers, closed areas, that sort of thing."

"No, Ran Borune," Aunt Pol said flatly. "Ce'Nedra will go to Riva. You've failed to understand that the Accords are only a formality. If your daughter's the one destined to become the bride of the Rivan King, no force on earth can prevent her from being in the throne room at Riva on the appointed day. My father's recommendations about the Murgos are only suggestions - for your own good. What you choose to do about the matter is your affair."

"I think we've just about exhausted the possibilities of this conversation," the Emperor stated coldly.

Two important-looking officials came into the garden and spoke briefly to Lord Morin.

"Your Highness," the gray-haired chamberlain said deferentially, "the Minister of Trade wanted to inform you that he's reached an excellent agreement with the trade deputation from Rak Goska. The gentlemen from Cthol Murgos were most accommodating."

"I'm delighted to hear it," Ran Borune said, throwing a meaningful look at Mister Wolf.

"The contingent from Rak Goska would like to pay their respects before they leave," Morin added.

"By all means," the Emperor said. "I'll be delighted to receive them here."

Morin turned and nodded shortly to the two officials near the gate. The officials turned and spoke to someone outside, and the gate swung open.

Five Murgos strode into the garden. Their coa.r.s.e black robes were hooded, but the hoods were thrown back. The front of their robes were unclasped, and the chain mail shirts they all wore gleamed in the sunlight. The Murgo in front was a bit taller than the others, and his bearing indicated that he was the leader of the deputation. A welter of images and partial memories flooded Garion's mind as he looked at the scar-faced enemy he had known all his life. The strange pull of the silent, hidden linkage between them touched him. It was Asharak.

Something brushed Garion's mind, tentative only - not the powerful force the Murgo had directed at him in the dim hallway in Anheg's palace at Val Alorn. The amulet under his tunic became very cold and yet seemed to burn at the same time.

"Your Imperial Highness," Asharak said, striding forward with a cold smile, "we are honored to be admitted into your august presence." He bowed, his mail shirt clinking.

Barak was holding Hettar's right arm firmly, and Mandorallen moved and took the other.

"I'm overjoyed to see you again, worthy Asharak," the Emperor said. "I'm told that an agreement has been reached."

"Beneficial to both sides, your Highness."