"Please, father," she begged, her tone dropping into a wheedling note. She took hold of one of the folds of his gold mantle and twisted it around one of her tiny fingers. "Please." The look she directed at the Emperor through her lashes would have melted stone.
"Absolutely not," he said, refusing to look at her. "My order stands. You will not leave the palace grounds."
"I hate you!" she cried. Then she ran from the garden in tears. "My daughter," the Emperor explained almost apologetically. "You can't imagine what it's like having a child like that."
"Oh, I can imagine, all right," Mister Wolf said, glancing at Aunt Pol. She looked back at him, her eyes challenging.
"Go ahead and say it, father," she told him. "I'm sure you won't be happy until you do."
Wolf shrugged. "Forget it."
Ran Borune looked thoughtfully at the two of them. "It occurs to me that we might be able to negotiate a bit here," he said, his eyes narrowing.
"What did you have in mind?" Wolf asked.
"You have a certain authority among the Alorns," the Emperor suggested.
"Some," Wolf admitted carefully.
"If you were to ask them, I'm sure they'd be willing to overlook one of the more absurd provisions of the Accords of Vo Mimbre."
"Which one is that?"
"There's really no necessity for Ce'Nedra to journey to Riva, is there? I'm the last emperor of the Borune Dynasty, and when I die, she won't be an Imperial Princess anymore. Under the circumstances, I'd say that the requirement doesn't really apply to her. It's nonsense anyway. The line of the Rivan King became extinct thirteen hundred years ago, so there isn't going to be any bridegroom waiting for her in the Hall of the Rivan King. As you've seen, Tolnedra's a very dangerous place just now. Ce'Nedra's sixteenth birthday's only a year or so off, and the date's well known. If I have to send her to Riva, half the assassins in the Empire are going to be lurking outside the palace gates, waiting for her to come out. I'd rather not take that kind of risk. If you could see your way clear to speak to the Alorns, I might be able to make a few concessions regarding the Murgos - restrictions on their numbers, closed areas, that sort of thing."
"No, Ran Borune," Aunt Pol said flatly. "Ce'Nedra will go to Riva. You've failed to understand that the Accords are only a formality. If your daughter's the one destined to become the bride of the Rivan King, no force on earth can prevent her from being in the throne room at Riva on the appointed day. My father's recommendations about the Murgos are only suggestions - for your own good. What you choose to do about the matter is your affair."
"I think we've just about exhausted the possibilities of this conversation," the Emperor stated coldly.
Two important-looking officials came into the garden and spoke briefly to Lord Morin.
"Your Highness," the gray-haired chamberlain said deferentially, "the Minister of Trade wanted to inform you that he's reached an excellent agreement with the trade deputation from Rak Goska. The gentlemen from Cthol Murgos were most accommodating."
"I'm delighted to hear it," Ran Borune said, throwing a meaningful look at Mister Wolf.
"The contingent from Rak Goska would like to pay their respects before they leave," Morin added.
"By all means," the Emperor said. "I'll be delighted to receive them here."
Morin turned and nodded shortly to the two officials near the gate. The officials turned and spoke to someone outside, and the gate swung open.
Five Murgos strode into the garden. Their coarse black robes were hooded, but the hoods were thrown back. The front of their robes were unclasped, and the chain mail shirts they all wore gleamed in the sunlight. The Murgo in front was a bit taller than the others, and his bearing indicated that he was the leader of the deputation. A welter of images and partial memories flooded Garion's mind as he looked at the scar-faced enemy he had known all his life. The strange pull of the silent, hidden linkage between them touched him. It was Asharak.
Something brushed Garion's mind, tentative only - not the powerful force the Murgo had directed at him in the dim hallway in Anheg's palace at Val Alorn. The amulet under his tunic became very cold and yet seemed to burn at the same time.
"Your Imperial Highness," Asharak said, striding forward with a cold smile, "we are honored to be admitted into your august presence." He bowed, his mail shirt clinking.
Barak was holding Hettar's right arm firmly, and Mandorallen moved and took the other.
"I'm overjoyed to see you again, worthy Asharak," the Emperor said. "I'm told that an agreement has been reached."
"Beneficial to both sides, your Highness."
"The best kind of agreement," Ran Borune approved.
"Taur Urgas, King of the Murgos, sends greetings," Asharak said. "His Majesty feels most keenly the desirability of cementing relations between Cthol Murgos and Tolnedra. He hopes that one day he may call your Imperial Highness brother."
"We respect the peaceful intentions and legendary wisdom of Taur Urgas." The Emperor smiled with a certain smugness.
Asharak looked around, his black eyes flat. "Well, Ambar," he said to Silk, "your fortunes seem to have improved since we met last in Mingan's counting room in Darine."
Silk spread his hands in an innocent-looking gesture. "The Gods have been kind - most of them, anyway."
Asharak smiled briefly.
"You know each other?" the Emperor asked, a bit surprised.
"We've met, your Highne?s," Silk admitted.
"In another kingdom," Asharak added. He looked directly then at Mister Wolf. "Belgarath," he said politely with a brief nod.
"Chamdar," the old man replied.
"You're looking well."
"Thank you."
"It seems that I'm the only stranger here," the Emperor said.
"Chamdar and I have known each other for a very long time," Mister Wolf told him. He glanced at the Murgo with a faintly malicious twinkle in his eyes. "I see that you've managed to recover from your recent indisposition."
Asharak's face flickered with annoyance, and he looked quickly at his shadow on the grass as if for reassurance.
Garion remembered what Wolf had said atop the tor after the attack of the Algroths - something about a shadow returning by an "indirect route." For some reason the information that Asharak the Murgo and Chamdar the Grolim were the same man did not particularly surprise him. Like a complex melody that had been faintly out of tune, the sudden merging of the two seemed right somehow. The knowledge clicked in his mind like a key in a lock.
"Someday you'll have to show me how you did that," Asharak was saying. "I found the experience interesting. My horse had hysterics, however."
"My apologies to your horse."
"Why is it that I feel as if I'm missing about half of this conversation?" Ran Borune asked.
"Forgive us, your Highness," Asharak said. "Ancient Belgarath and I are renewing an old enmity. We've seldom had the opportunity to speak to each other with any degree of civility." He turned and bowed politely to Aunt Pol. "My Lady Polgara. You're as beautiful as ever." He eyed her with a deliberately suggestive stare.
"You haven't changed much either, Chamdar." Her tone was mild, even bland, but Garion, who knew her so well, recognized immediately the deadly insult she had just delivered to the Grolim.
"Charming," Asharak said with a faint smile.
"This is better than a play," the Emperor cried delightedly. "You people are actually dripping with malice. I wish I'd had the opportunity to see the first act."
"The first act was very long, your Highness," Asharak said, "and quite often tedious. As you may have noticed, Belgarath sometimes gets carried away with his own cleverness."
"I'm certain I'll be able to make up for that," Mister Wolf told him with a slight smile. "I promise you that the last act will be extremely short, Chamdar."
"Threats, old man?" Asharak asked. "I thought we'd agreed to be civilized."
"I can't recall when we ever agreed on anything," Wolf said. He turned to the Emperor. "I think we'll leave now, Ran Borune," he said. "With your permission, of course."
"Of course," the Emperor replied. "I'm pleased to have met you though I still don't believe in you, naturally. My skepticism, however, is theological, not personal."
"I'm glad of that," Wolf said, and quite suddenly he grinned impishly at the Emperor.
Ran Borune laughed.
"I look forward to our next meeting, Belgarath," Asharak said.
"I wouldn't if I were you," Wolf advised him, then turned and led the way out of the Emperor's garden.