"Thirty perhaps," he decided, confused.

"Thirty?" Her voice was stricken. Swiftly she turned to her mirror and examined her face minutely. "You're blind, you idiot!" she snapped, still staring at herself in the gla.s.s. "That's not the face of a woman of thirty. Twenty-three - twenty-five at the most."

"Whatever you say," he agreed.

"Twenty-three," she stated firmly. "Not a single day over twentythree."

"Of course," he said mildly.

"Would you believe that I'm nearly sixty?" she demanded, her eyes suddenly flint-hard.

"No," Garion denied. "I couldn't believe that - not sixty."

"What a charming boy you are, Belgarion," she breathed at him, her glance melting. Her fingers returned to his face, touching, stroking, caressing. Slowly, beneath the pale skin of her naked shoulder and throat, curious patches of color began to appear, a faint mottling of green and purple that seemed to shift and pulsate, growing first quite visible and then fading. Her lips parted again, and her breathing grew faster. The mottling spread down her torso beneath her transparent gown, the colors seeming to writhe beneath her skin.

Maas crept nearer, his dead eyes suddenly coming awake with a strange adoration. The vivid pattern of his own scaly skin so nearly matched the colors that began to emerge upon the body of the Serpent Queen that when he draped a caressing coil across one of her shoulders it became impossible to say exactly where lay the boundary between the snake and the woman.

Had Garion not been in a half stupor, he would have recoiled from the queen. Her colorless eyes and mottled skin seemed reptilian, and her openly l.u.s.tful expression spoke of some dreadful hunger. Yet there was a curious attraction about her. Helplessly he felt drawn by her blatant sensuality.

"Come closer, my Belgarion," she ordered softly. "I'm not going to hurt you." Her eyes gloated over her possession of him.

Not far from the dais, Sadi the eunuch cleared his throat. "Divine Queen," he announced, "the emissary of Taur Urgas requests a word with you."

"Of Ctuchik, you mean," Salmissra said, looking faintly annoyed. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind, and she smiled maliciously. The mottling of her skin faded. "Bring the Grolim in," she instructed Sadi.

Sadi bowed and withdrew to return a moment later with a scar-faced man in the garb of a Murgo.

"Give welcome to the emissary of Taur Urgas," the eunuch chanted. "Welcome," the chorus replied.

"Carefully now, "the dry voice in his mind said to Garion. "That's the one we saw at the harbor. "

Garion looked more carefully at the Murgo and realized that it was true.

"Hail, Eternal Salmissra," the Grolim said perfunctorily, bowing first to the queen and then to the statue behind her. "Taur Urgas, King of Cthol Murgos, sends greetings to the Spirit of Issa and to his handmaiden."

"And are there no greetings from Ctuchik, High Priest of the Grolims?" she asked, her eyes bright.

"Of course," the Grolim said, "but those are customarily given in private."

"Is your errand here on behalf of Taur Urgas or of Ctuchik?" she inquired, turning to examine her reflection in the mirror.

"May we speak in private, your Highness?" the Grolim asked. "We are in private," she said.

"But-" He looked around at the kneeling eunuchs in the room.

"My body servants," she said. "A Nyissan queen is never left alone. You should know that by now."

"And that one?" The Grolim pointed at Garion.

"He is also a servant - but of a slightly different kind."

The Grolim shrugged. "Whatever you wish. I salute you in the name of Ctuchik, High Priest of the Grolims and Disciple of Torak."

"The Handmaiden of Issa salutes Ctuchik of Rak Cthol," she responded formally. "What does the Grolim High Priest want of me?"

"The boy, your Highness," the Grolim said bluntly.

"Which boy is that?"

"The boy you stole from Polgara and who now sits at your feet."

She laughed scornfully. "Convey my regrets to Ctuchik," she said, "but that would be impossible."

"It's unwise to deny the wishes of Ctuchik," the Grolim warned.

"It's even more unwise to make demands of Salmissra in her own palace," she said. "What is Ctuchik prepared to offer for this boy?"

"His eternal friendship."

"What need has the Serpent Queen of friends?"

"Gold, then," the Grolim offered with annoyance.

"I know the secret of the red gold of Angarak," she told him. "I don't wish to become a slave to it. Keep your gold, Grolim."

"Might I say that the game you play is very dangerous, your Highness?" the Grolim said coolly. "You've already made Polgara your enemy. Can you afford the enmity of Ctuchik as well?"

"I'm not afraid of Polgara," she answered. "Nor of Ctuchik."

"The queen's bravery is remarkable," he said dryly.

"This is beginning to get tiresome. My terms are very simple. Tell Ctuchik that I have Torak's enemy, and I will keep him - unless-" She paused.

"Unless what, your Highness?"

"If Ctuchik will speak to Torak for me, an agreement might be reached."

"What sort of agreement?"

"I will give the boy to Torak as a wedding gift."

The Grolim blinked.

"If Torak will make me his bride and give me immortality, I will deliver Belgarion up to him."

"All the world knows that the Dragon G.o.d of Angarak is bound in slumber," the Grolim objected.

"But he will not sleep forever," Salmissra said flatly. "The priests of Angarak and the sorcerers of Aloria always seem to forget that Eternal Salmissra can read the signs in the heavens as clearly as they. The day of Torak's awakening is at hand. Tell Ctuchik that upon the day that I am wed to Torak, Belgarion will be in his hands. Until that day, the boy is mine."

"I shall deliver your message to Ctuchik," the Grolim said with a stiff, icy bow.

"Leave, then," she told him with an airy wave of her hand.

"So that is it, " the voice in Garion's mind said as the Grolim left. "I should have known, I suppose."

Maas the serpent suddenly raised his head, his great neck flaring and his eyes burning. "Beware!" he hissed.

"Of the Grolim?" Salmissra laughed. "I have nothing to fear from him."

"Not the Grolim," Maas said. "That one." He flickered his tongue at Garion. "Its mind is awake."

"That's impossible," she objected.

"Nevertheless, its mind is awake. It has to do, I think, with that metal thing around its neck."

"Remove the ornament then," she told the snake.

Maas lowered his length to the floor and slid around the divan toward Garion.

"Remain very still, " Garion's inner voice told him. "Don't try to fight. "

Numbly, Garion watched the blunt head draw closer.

Maas raised his head, his hood flaring. His nervous tongue darted. Slowly he leaned forward. His nose touched the silver amulet hanging about Garion's neck.

There was a bright blue spark as the reptile's head came in contact with the amulet. Garion felt the familiar surge, but tightly controlled now, focused down to a single point. Maas recoiled, and the spark from the amulet leaped out, sizzling through the air, linking the silver disc to the reptile's nose. The snake's eyes began to shrivel and steam poured from his nostrils and his gaping mouth.

Then the spark was gone, and the body of the dead snake writhed and twisted convulsively on the polished stone floor of the chamber.

"Maasl" Salmissra shrieked.

The eunuchs scrambled out of the way of the wildly threshing body of the snake.

"My Queen!" a shaved-headed, functionary gibbered from the door, "the world is ending!"

"What?" Salmissra tore her eyes from the convulsions of the snake.

"The sun has gone out! Noon is as dark as midnight! The city is gone mad with terror!"

Chapter Twenty-nine.

IN THE TUMULT WHICH FOLLOWED that announcement, Garion sat quietly on the cushions beside Salmissra's throne. The quiet voice in his mind, however, was speaking to him rapidly. "Stay very still,"the voice told him. "Don't say anything, and don't do anything."

"Get my astronomers here immediately!" Salmissra ordered. "I want to know why I wasn't warned about this eclipse."

"It's not an eclipse, my Queen," the bald functionary wailed, groveling on the polished floor not far from the still-writhing Maas. "The dark came like a great curtain. It was like a moving wall - no wind, no rain, no thunder. It swallowed the sun without a sound." He began to sob brokenly. "We shall never see the sun again."

"Stop that, you idiot," Salmissra snapped. "Get on your feet. Sadi, take this babbling fool out of here and go look at the sky. Then come back to me here. I have to know what's going on."

Sadi shook himself almost like a dog coming out of the water and pulled his fascinated eyes off the dead, fixed grin on the face of Maas. He pulled the blubbering functionary to his feet and led him out of the chamber.

Salmissra turned then on Garion. "How did you do that?" she demanded, pointing at the twitching form of Maas.

"I don't know," he said. His mind was still sunk in fog. Only the quiet corner where the voice lived was alert.

"Take off that amulet," she commanded.

Obediently, Garion reached his hands toward the medallion. Suddenly his hands froze. They would not move. He let them fall. "I can't," he said.

"Take it from him," she ordered one of the eunuchs. The man glanced once at the dead snake, then stared at Garion. He shook his head and backed away in fright.

"Do as I say!" the Snake Queen ordered sharply.

From somewhere in the palace came a hollow, reverberating crash. There was the sound of nails screeching out of heavy wood and the avalanche noise of a wall collapsing. Then, a long way down one of the dim corridors, someone screamed in agony.

The dry consciousness in his mind reached out, probing. "At last, " it said with obvious relief.

"What's going on out there?" Salmissra blazed.

"Come with me, " the voice in Garion's mind said. "I need your help. " Garion put his hands under him and started to push himself up. "No. This way. " A strange image of separation rose in Garion's mind.

Unthinking, he willed the separation and felt himself rising and yet not moving. Suddenly he had no sense of his body - no arms or legs - yet he seemed to move. He saw himself - his own body - sitting stupidly on the cushions at Salmissra's feet.

"Hurry," the voice said to him. It was no longer inside his mind but seemed to be somewhere beside him. A dim shape was there, formless but somehow very familiar.

The fog that had clouded Garion's wits was gone, and he felt very alert. "Who are you?" he demanded of the shape beside him.

"There isn't time to explain. Quickly, we have to lead them back before Salmissra has time to do anything."

"Lead who?"

"Polgara and Barak."

"Aunt Pol? Where is she?"

"Come," the voice said urgently.

Together Garion and the strange presence at his side seemed to waft toward the closed door. They pa.s.sed through it as if it were no more than insubstantial mist and emerged in the corridor outside.

Then they were flying, soaring down the corridor with no sense of air rushing past or even of movement. A moment later they came out into that vast open hall where Issus had first brought Garion when they had entered the palace. There they stopped, hovering in the fir.

Aunt Pol, her splendid eyes ablaze and a fiery nimbus about her, strode through the hall. Beside her hulked the great s.h.a.ggy bear Garion had seen before. Barak's face seemed vaguely within that b.e.s.t.i.a.l head, but there was no humanity in it. The beast's eyes were afire with raging madness, and its mouth gaped horribly.