Cyradis blushed. ‘Thy flattery doth quite catch my breath away, Zakath.’

‘It’s not exactly flattery, Cyradis,’ he said clinically, lapsing back into his usual speech. ‘You’re by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and the thought of having you go back to Kell – or anywhere else, for that matter – leaves a vast emptiness in my heart. You’ve lost your guide and your friend. Let me become both for you. Return with me to Mal Zeth. We’ve got much to discuss, and it may take us the rest of our lives.’

Cyradis turned her pale face away slightly, and the faintly triumphant smile which touched her lips said quite clearly that she saw a great deal more than she was willing to reveal. She turned back to the Mallorean Emperor, her eyes innocently wide. ‘Wouldst thou indeed take some small pleasure in my company?’ she asked.

‘Thy company would fill my days, Cyradis,’ he said.

‘Then gladly will I accompany thee to Mal Zeth,’ she said, ‘for thou art now my truest friend and dearest companion.’

Garion motioned with his head, and he and Hettar went on aft.

‘What were we doing?’ Hettar asked. ‘That seemed like a fairly private conversation.’

‘It was,’ Garion told him. ‘I just needed to be sure that it took place, that’s all. I was told that it was going to happen, but I like a little verification now and then.’

Hettar looked puzzled.

‘Zakath’s been the loneliest man in the world,’ Garion told him. ‘That’s what made him so empty and soulless – and so dangerous. That’s changed now. He isn’t going to be lonely any more, and that should help him with something he has to do.’

‘Garion, you’re being awfully cryptic. All I saw was a young lady rather skillfully wrapping a man around her finger.’

‘It did sort of look that way, didn’t it?’

Early the next morning, Ce’Nedra bolted from her bed and ran up the stairs to the deck. Alarmed, Garion followed her. ‘Excuse me,’ she said to Polgara, who was leaning out over the rail. Then she took her place beside the ageless woman, and the two of them stood for some time retching over the side.

‘You, too?’ Ce’Nedra said with a wan smile.

Polgara wiped her lips with a kerchief and nodded.

Then the two of them embraced each other and began to laugh.

‘Are they all right?’ Garion asked Poledra, who had just come up on deck with the ubiquitous wolfpup again at her side. ‘Neither one of them ever gets sea-sick.’

‘They aren’t sea-sick, Garion,’ Poledra said with a mysterious smile.

‘But why are they—’

‘They’re just fine, Garion. More than fine. Go on back down to your cabin. I’ll take care of this.’

Garion had just awakened, and his mind was a little foggy. So it was that it was not until he was halfway down the stairs before it slowly dawned on him. He stopped, his eyes very wide. ‘Ce’Nedra?’ he exclaimed. ‘And Aunt Pol?’ Then he, too, began to laugh.

The appearance of Sir Mandorallen, the invincible Baron of Vo Mandor, in the court of King Oldorin caused an awed silence. Because of Perivor’s remote location, Mandorallen’s towering reputation had not reached the island, but his very presence – that overpowering sense of his nobility and perfection – stunned the king’s court. Mandorallen was the ultimate Mimbrate, and it showed.

Garion and Zakath, once again in full armor, approached the throne with the stupendous knight between them. ‘Your Majesty,’ Garion said with a bow, ‘it pleaseth me beyond measure to announce that our quest hath come to a happy and successful conclusion. The beast which plagued thy shores is no more, and the evil which beset the world is quelled for good and all. Fortune, which sometimes doth bestow blessings with open-handed generosity, hath also seen fit to reunite my companions and me with old and well-loved friends – most of whom I shall present to thee anon. A keen awareness, however, of a fact which, methinks, will be of supreme importance to thee and to thy court, doth impell me to present at once a puissant knight from far-off Arendia, who doth ever stand at the right hand of his Majesty, King Korodullin, and who, doubtless, will greet thee in kinship and love. Your Majesty, I have the honor to present Sir Mandorallen, Baron of Vo Mandor and the paramount knight in all the world.’

‘You’re getting better at that,’ Zakath said quietly.

‘Practice,’ Garion said deprecatingly.

‘Lord King,’ Mandorallen said in his resonant voice, bowing to the throne, ‘gladly do I greet thee and the members of thy court, and dare to call ye all kinsmen. I presume to bear thee warmest greetings from their Majesties, King Korodullin and Queen Mayaserana, monarchs of well-loved Arendia, for, doubtless, as soon as I return to Vo Mimbre and reveal that those who were once lost are now joyfully found again, their Majesties’ eyes will fill to overflowing with tears of thanksgiving, and they shall embrace thee from afar, if needs be, as a brother, and, as great Chaldan gives me strength, shall I presently return to thy magnificent city with missives top-filled with their regard and affection which shall, methinks, pressage a soon-to-be accomplished reunion – may I dare even hope, a reunification – of the dissevered branches of the holy blood of sacred Arendia.’

‘He managed to say all that in one sentence?’ Zakath murmured to Garion with some awe.

‘Two, I think,’ Garion murmured back. ‘Mandorallen’s in his element here. This is liable to take awhile – two or three days, I’d imagine.’

It did not take quite that long, but almost. The speeches of the nobles of Perivor were at first somewhat rudimentary, since the members of King Oldorin’s court had been taken by surprise by Mandorallen’s sudden appearance and had been rendered almost tongue-tied by his eloquence. A sleepless night spent in fevered composition, however, remedied that. The following day was given over to flowery speeches, to an extended banquet, and assorted entertainments. Belgarath was prevailed upon to present an only slightly embellished account of the events which had transpired on the reef. The old man rather judiciously avoided references to some of the more incredible incidents. The sudden appearance of divinities in the middle of an adventure story sometimes stirs scepticism in even the most credulous audience.

Garion leaned forward to quietly speak to Eriond, who sat across the banquet table from him. ‘At least he protected your anonymity,’ he said quietly.




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