"We've never had any secrets," Barak accused.
Grinneg spoke quietly to his cousin for a moment, looking very ashamed of himself, and Barak burst out with a great roar of laughter. "Why did you let her do that?" he demanded.
"I was drunk," Grinneg said. "Let's go inside. I've got a keg of good ale in my cellar."
The rest of them followed the two big men into the house, and they went down a broad hallway to a room with Cherek furnishings - heavy chairs and benches covered with skins, a rush-strewn floor and a huge fireplace where the butt end of a large log smoldered. Several pitchsmeared torches smoked in iron rings on the stone wall.
"I feel more at home here," Grinneg said.
A servant brought tankards of dark brown ale for them all and then quietly left the room. Garion quickly lifted his tankard and took a large swallow of the bitter drink before Aunt Pol could suggest something more bland. She watched him without comment, her eyes expressionless.
Grinneg sprawled in a large, hand-hewn chair with a bearskin tossed over it. "Why are you really in Tol Honeth, Barak?" he asked.
"Grinneg," Barak said serously, "this is Belgarath. I'm sure you've heard of him."
The ambassador's eyes widened, and he inclined his head. "My house is yours," he said respectfully.
"Can you get me in to see Ran Borune?" Mister Wolf asked, sitting on a rough bench near the fireplace.
"Without any difficulty."
"Good," Wolf said. "I have to talk to him, and I don't want to stir up any fuss in the process."
Barak introduced the others, and his cousin nodded politely to each of them.
"You've come to Tol Honeth during a turbulent period," he said after the amenities were over. "The nobility of Tolnedra are gathering in the city like ravens on a dead cow."
"We picked up a hint or two of that on our way south," Silk told him. "Is it as bad as we heard?"
"Probably worse," Grinneg said, scratching one ear. "Dynastic succession only happens a few times in each eon. The Borunes have been in power now for over six hundred years, and the other houses are anticipating the changeover with a great deal of enthusiasm."
"Who's the most likely to succeed Ran Borune?" Mister Wolf asked.
"Right at the moment the best would probably be the Grand Duke Kador of Tol Vordue," Grinneg answered. "He seems to have more money than the rest. The Honeths are richer, of course, but they've got seven candidates, and their wealth is spread out a little too thin. The other families aren't really in the running. The Borunes don't have anyone suitable, and no one takes the Ranites seriously."
Garion carefully set his tankard on the floor beside the stool he sat on. The bitter ale didn't really taste that good, and he felt vaguely cheated somehow. The half tankard he had drunk made his ears quite warm, though, and the end of his nose seemed a little numb.
"A Vorduvian we met said that the Horbites are using poison," Silk said.
"They all are." Grinneg wore a slightly disgusted look. "The Horbites are just a little more obvious about it, that's all. If Ran Borune dies tomorrow, though, Kador will be the next Emperor."
Mister Wolf frowned. "I've never had much success dealing with the Vorduvians. They don't really have imperial stature."
"The old Emperor's still in pretty fair health," Grinneg said. "If he hangs on for another year or two, the Honeths will probably fall into line behind one candidate - whichever one survives - and then they'll be able to bring all their money to bear on the situation. These things take time, though. The candidates themselves are staying out of town for the most part, and they're all being extremely careful, so the assassins are having a great deal of difficulty reaching them." He laughed, taking a long drink of ale. "They're a funny people."
"Could we go to the palace now?" Mister Wolf asked.
"We'll want to change clothes first," Aunt Pol said firmly.
"Again, Polgara?" Wolf gave her a long-suffering look.
"Just do it, father," she said. "I won't let you embarrass us by wearing rags to the palace."
"I'm not going to wear that robe again." The old man's voice was stubborn.
"No," she said. "It wouldn't be suitable. I'm sure the ambassador can lend you a mantle. You won't be quite so obvious that way."
"Whatever you say, Pol." Wolf sighed, giving up.
After they had changed, Grinneg formed up his honorguard, a grimlooking group of Cherek warriors, and they were escorted along the broad avenues of Tol Honeth toward the palace. Garion, all bemused by the opulence of the city and feeling just a trifle giddy from the effects of the half tankard of ale he had drunk, rode quietly beside Silk, trying not to gawk at the huge buildings or the richly dressed Tolnedrans strolling with grave decorum in the noonday sun.
Chapter Sixteen
THE IMPERIAL PALACE Sat on a high hill in the center of Tol Honeth. It consisted not of one building, but rather was a complex of many, large and small, all built of marble and surrounded by gardens and lawns where cypress trees cast a pleasing shade. The entire compound was enclosed by a high wall, surmounted by statues spaced at intervals along its top. The legionnaires at the palace gate recognized the Cherek ambassador and sent immediately for one of the Emperor's chamberlains, a gray-haired official in a brown mantle."I need to see Ran Borune, Lord Morin," Grinneg told him as they all dismounted in a marble courtyard just inside the palace gate. "It's a matter of urgency."
"Of course, Lord Grinneg," the gray-haired man assented. "His Imperial Highness is always delighted to speak with the personal envoy of King Anheg. Unfortunately, his Highness is resting just now. I should be able to get you in to see him sometime this afternoon - tomorrow morning at the latest."
"This won't wait, Morin," Grinneg said. "We have to see the Emperor immediately. You'd better go wake him up."
Lord Morin looked surprised. "It can't be that urgent," he suggested chillingly.
"I'm afraid so," Grinneg said.
Morin pursed his lips thoughtfully as he looked at each member of the party.
"You know me well enough to realize that I wouldn't ask this lightly, Morin," Grinneg said.
Morin sighed. "I'm trusting you a great deal, Grinneg. All right. Come along. Ask your soldiers to wait."
Grinneg made a curt gesture to his guards, and the party followed Lord Morin through a broad courtyard to a columned gallery that ran along one of the buildings.