‘I‘m going to have that removed from my title when I get back to Riva,’ Garion said sourly.
‘You can do that later,’ Silk told him. ‘What would Zandramas most likely feel if she arrived at the cave-mouth, looked around, and didn’t see us?’
‘I think I see where you’re going, Kheldar,’ Sadi said admiringly.
‘You would,’ Zakath said drily.
‘It’s really rather brilliant, you know, Kal Zakath,’ the eunuch said. ‘Zandramas is going to feel a wild exultation. She’ll believe that she’s succeeded in circumventing the prophecies and that she’s won in spite of them.’
‘Then what’s going to happen to her when we all step out from behind a boulder and she finds out that she still has to face Garion and submit to the choice of Cyradis after all?’ Silk asked.
‘She’s probably going to be very disappointed,’ Velvet said.
‘I think disappointment might be too mild a term,’ Silk suggested. ‘I think chagrin might come closer. Couple that with exasperation and a healthy dose of fear, and we’ll be looking at somebody who’s not going to be thinking too clearly. We’re fairly sure there’s going to be a fight when we get there, and you’ve always got an advantage in a fight when the opposing general is distracted.’
‘It’s sound tactical reasoning, Garion,’ Zakath conceeded.
‘I’ll go along with it,’ Belgarath said. ‘If nothing else, it should give me the opportunity to pay Zandramas back for all the times she’s upset me. I think I still owe her just a bit for slicing pieces out of the Ashabine Oracles. I’ll talk with Captain Kresca early tomorrow morning and find out if there’s a beach on the east side of the peak. With a neap tide, our chances should be pretty good. Then we’ll work our way up along the side of the peak, staying out of sight. We’ll take cover near the cave mouth and wait for Zandramas to put in an appearance. Then we’ll step out and surprise her.’
‘I can add an even bigger advantage,’ Beldin said. ‘I’ll scout on ahead and let you know when she lands. That way, you’ll be ready for her.’
‘Not as a hawk, though, Uncle,’ Polgara suggested.
‘Why not?’
‘Zandramas isn’t stupid. A hawk wouldn’t have any business on that reef. There wouldn’t be anything there for him to eat.’
‘Maybe she’ll think the storm blew me out to sea.’
‘Do you want to risk your tail feathers on a maybe? A seagull, Uncle.’
‘A seagull?’ he objected. ‘But they’re so stupid – and so dirty.’
‘You? Worried about dirt?’ Silk asked him, looking up. Silk had been busily counting on his fingers.
‘Don’t push it, Kheldar,’ Beldin growled ominously.
‘What day of the month was Prince Geran born on?’ Silk asked Ce’Nedra.
‘The seventh, why?’
‘We appear to have another one of those things that’s setting out to make tomorrow very special. If I’ve counted right, tomorrow will be your son’s second birthday.’
‘It can’t be!’ she exclaimed. ‘My baby was born in the winter time.’
‘Ce’Nedra,’ Garion said gently, ‘Riva’s up near the top of the world. This reef is near the bottom. It is winter in Riva right now. Count up the months since Geran was born – the time he spent with us before Zandramas stole him, the time we spent marching on Rheon, the trip to Prolgu then to Tol Honeth and on to Nyissa and all those other places where we had to stop. I think if you count rather closely, you’ll find that it has been very close to two years.’
She frowned, ticking the months off. Finally, her eyes went very wide. ‘I think he’s right!’ she exclaimed. ‘Geran will be two years old tomorrow!’
Durnik laid his hand on the little queen’s arm. ‘I’ll see if I can make something for you to give him as a present, Ce’Nedra,’ he said gently. ‘A boy ought to have a birthday present after he’s been separated from his family for so long.’
Ce’Nedra’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Durnik!’ She wept, embracing him. ‘You think of everything.’
Garion looked at Aunt Pol, his fingers moving slightly. – Why don’t you ladies take her in and put her to bed?—he suggested.—We’re all through here, and if she thinks too much about this, she’s going to get herself worked up.—Tomorrow’s going to be hard enough for her anyway.—
—You might be right.—
After the ladies had left, Garion and the other men sat around the bolted-down table reminiscing. They covered in some detail the various adventures they had shared since that wind-tossed night so long ago when Garion, Belgarath, Aunt Pol and Durnik had crept out through the gate of Faldor’s farm into the world where the possible and the impossible inexorably merged. Again, Garion felt that sense of cleansing, coupled with something else. It was as if, by recapitulating all that had happened in their long journey to the reef lying out there in the darkness, they were somehow bringing everything into focus to strengthen their resolve and their sense of purpose. It seemed to help for some reason.
‘I think that’s about enough of that,’ Belgarath said finally, rising to his feet. ‘Now we all know what’s behind us. It’s time to pack all that away and start looking ahead. Let’s get some sleep.’
Ce’Nedra stirred restlessly when Garion slipped into bed. ‘I thought you were going to stay up all night,’ she said sleepily.
‘We were talking.’
‘I know. I could hear the murmur of voices even in here. And men think women talk all the time.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘Probably, but a woman can talk while her hands are busy. A man can’t.’
‘You might be right.’
There was a moment of silence. ‘Garion,’ she said.
‘Yes, Ce’Nedra?’
‘Can I borrow your knife – the little dagger Durnik gave you when you were a boy?’
‘If you want something cut, point it out. I’ll cut it for you.’
‘It’s nothing like that, Garion. I just want to have a knife tomorrow.’
‘What for?’
‘As soon as I see Zandramas, I’m going to kill her.’
‘Ce’Nedra!’