‘General Atesca,’ Zakath said to him, ‘don’t we know each other well enough to ignore these subterfuges?’
‘We were worried about you, your Majesty,’ Brador said. ‘Since we were in the vicinity anyway …’ The bald man spread his hands.
‘And just what were you two doing in this vicinity? Didn’t I leave you back on the banks of the Magan?’
‘Something came up, your Majesty,’ Atesca put in. ‘Urvon’s army fell all apart, and the Darshivans seemed to be distracted. Brador and I seized the opportunity to bring Peldane and Darshiva back into the empire, and we’ve been pursuing the remnants of the Darshivan army all over eastern Dalasia.’
‘Very good, gentlemen,’ Zakath approved. ‘Very, very good. I should take a vacation more often.’
‘This was his idea of a vacation?’ Sadi murmured.
‘Of course,’ Silk replied. ‘Fighting dragons can be very invigorating.’
Zakath and Varana had been eyeing each other speculatively.
‘Your Imperial Majesties,’ Garion said politely, ‘I should probably introduce you. Emperor Varana, this is his Imperial Majesty, Kal Zakath of Mallorea. Emperor Zakath, this is his Imperial Majesty, Ran Borune XXIV of the Tolnedran Empire.’
‘Just Varana will do, Garion,’ the Tolnedran said. ‘We’ve all heard a lot about you, Kal Zakath,’ he said, extending his hand.
‘None of it good, I’m sure, Varana,’ Zakath smiled, shaking the other emperor’s hand warmly.
‘Rumors are seldom accurate, Zakath.’
‘We have much to discuss, your Imperial Majesty,’ Zakath said.
‘Indeed we do, your Imperial Majesty.’
King Oldorin of Perivor appeared to be in a state verging on nervous prostration. His island kingdom, it seemed, was quite suddenly awash with royalty. Garion made the introductions as gently and, he hoped, as painlessly as possible. King Oldorin mumbled a few greetings, almost forgetting his thee’s and thou’s. Garion drew him to one side. ‘This is a momentous occasion, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘The presence in one place of Zakath of Mallorea, Varana of Tolnedra, and Anheg of Cherek doth presage the possibility of tremendous steps toward that universal peace for which the world hath longed for eons.’
‘Thine own presence doth not diminish the occasion, Belgarion of Riva.’
Garion bowed his acknowledgement. ‘Though the courtesy and hospitality of thy court are the marvel of the known world, your Majesty,’ he said, ‘it were foolish of us not to seize this opportunity in so noble a cause. Thus I implore thee that my friends and I may closet separately for some time to explore the possibilities of this chance meeting, although it seemeth me that chance hath had but small part in its coming to pass. Surely the Gods themselves have had a hand in it.’
‘I am certain of it, your Majesty,’ Oldorin agreed. ‘There are council chambers on the top-most floor of my palace, King Belgarion. They are at the immediate disposal of thyself and thy royal friends. I have no doubt that momentous things may emerge from this meeting, and the honor I shall accrue that it is to take place beneath my roof doth overwhelm me quite.’
It was an impromptu meeting that was held in the upper chambers of the palace. Belgarath, by common consent, presided. Garion agreed to look after the interests of Queen Porenn, and Durnik to those of King Fulrach. Relg spoke for Ulgo – and Maragor. Mandorallen represented Arendia, and Hettar spoke for his father. Silk stood in for his brother, Urgit. Sadi spoke for Salmissra, and Nathel spoke for the Thulls, although very seldom. No one was particularly interested in taking the part of Drosta lek Thun of Gar og Nadrak.
Right at the outset there was, to Varana’s obvious disappointment, an agreement that matters of trade be excluded from the discussion, and then they got down to business.
About midway through the second day, Garion leaned back in his chair, only half-listening as Silk and Zakath haggled incessantly over a peace treaty between Mallorea and Cthol Murgos. Garion sighed pensively. Only a few days ago, he and his friends had witnessed – and participated in – the most momentous Event in the history of the universe, and now they sat around a table deeply involved in the mundane matters of international politics. It seemed so anti-climactic somehow, and yet, Garion knew that most of the people in the world would be far more concerned about what happened around this table than what had happened at Korim – for a while, anyway.
Finally, the Accords of Dal Perivor were reached. They were tentative, to be sure, and couched in broad generalities. They were subject, of course, to ratification by those monarchs not actually present. They were tenuous and based more on goodwill than on the rough give and take of true political negotiation. They were nonetheless, Garion felt, the last, best hope of mankind. Scribes were summoned to copy from Beldin’s copious notes, and it was decided that the document should be issued over the seal of King Oldorin of Perivor as host monarch.
The ceremony of the signing was stupendous. Mimbrates are very good at stupendous ceremonies.
Then, on the following day came the goodbyes. Zakath, Cyradis, Eriond, Atesca, and Brador were to depart for Mal Zeth while the rest of them were to board the Seabird for the long voyage home. Garion spoke at some length with Zakath. They both promised to correspond and, when affairs of state permitted it, to visit. The correspondence would be easy, they both knew. The visits, however, were far more problematical.
Then Garion joined his family while they took their leave of Eriond. Garion then walked the young and as yet unknown God of Angarak down to the quay where Atesca’s ship waited. ‘We’ve come a long way together, Eriond,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Eriond agreed.
‘You’ve got a lot ahead of You, You know.’
‘Probably more than you can even imagine, Garion.’
‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes, Garion, I am.’
‘Good. If You ever need me, call on me. I’ll come to wherever You are as quickly as I can.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
‘And don’t get so busy that You let Horse get fat.’
Eriond smiled. ‘No danger of that,’ He said. ‘Horse and I still have a long way to go.’
‘Be well, Eriond.’
‘You, too, Garion.’
They clasped hands and then Eriond went up the gangway to his waiting ship. Garion sighed and made his way to where Seabird was moored. He went up the gangway to join the others as they watched Atesca’s ship sail slowly out of the harbor, veering slightly around Greldik’s ship, which waited with the impatience of a leashed hound.