"You're in a cheerful humor today."
"I don't really have all that much to smile about, Silk." Garion went back to glowering out at the gloomy black-and-white morning.
Belgarath the Sorcerer came out of the aft cabin, squinted up into the thickly settling snow, and raised the hood of his stout old cloak. Then he came forward along the slippery deck to join them at the rail.
Silk glanced at the red-cloaked Mallorean soldier who had unobtrusively come up on deck behind the old man and who now stood leaning with some show of idleness on the rail several yards aft. "I see that General Atesca is still concerned about your well-being," he said, pointing at the man who had dogged Belgarath's steps since they had sailed out of the harbor at Rak Verkat.
Belgarath threw a quick disgusted glance in the soldier's direction. "Stupidity," he said shortly. "Where does he think I'm going?"
A sudden thought came to Garion. He leaned forward and spoke very quietly. "You know," he said, "we could go someplace, at that. We've got a ship here, and a ship goes wherever you point it -Mallorea just as easily as the coast of Hagga."
"It's an interesting notion, Belgarath," Silk agreed.
"There are four of us, Grandfather," Garion pointed out. "You, me, Aunt Pol, and Durnik. I'm sure we wouldn't have much difficulty in taking over this ship. Then we could change course and be halfway to Mallorea before Kal Zakath realized that we weren't coming to Rak Hagga after all." The more he thought about it, the more the idea excited him. "Then we could sail north along the Mallorean coast and anchor in a cove or inlet someplace on the shore of Camat. We'd only be a week or so from Ashaba. We might even be able to get there before Zandramas does." A bleak smile touched his lips. "I'd sort of like to be waiting for her when she gets there."
"It's got some definite possibilities, Belgarath," Silk said. "Could you do it?"
Belgarath scratched thoughtfully at his beard, squinting out into the sifting snow. "It's possible," he admitted. He looked at Garion. "But what do you think we ought to do with all these Mallorean soldiers and the ship's crew, once we get to the coast of Camat? You weren't planning to sink the ship and drown them all, were you, the way Zandramas does when she's finished using people?"
"Of course not!"
"I'm glad to hear that -but then how did you plan to keep them from running to the nearest garrison just as soon as we leave them behind? I don't know about you, but the idea of having a regiment or so of Mallorean troops hot on our heels doesn't excite me all that much."
Garion frowned. "I guess I hadn't thought about that," he admitted.
"I didn't think you had. It's usually best to work your way completely through an idea before you put it into action. It avoids a great deal of spur-of-the-moment patching later on."
" All right," Garion said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"I know you're impatient, Garion, but impatience is a poor substitute for a well-considered plan."
"Do you mind, Grandfather?" Garion said acidly.
"Besides, it might just be that we're supposed to go to Rak Hagga and meet with Kal Zakath. Why would Cyradis turn us over to the Malloreans, after she went to all the trouble of putting The Book of Ages into my hands? There's something else going on here, and I'm not sure we want to disrupt things until we find out a little more about them."
The cabin door opened, and General Atesca, the commander of the Mallorean forces occupying the Isle of Verkat, emerged. From the moment they had been turned over to him, Atesca had been polite and strictly correct in all his dealings with them. He had also been very firm about his intention to deliver them personally to Kal Zakath in Rak Hagga. He was a tall, lean man, and his uniform was bright scarlet, adorned with numerous medals and decorations. He carried himself with erect dignity, though the fact that his nose had been broken at some time in the past made him look more like a street brawler than a general in an imperial army. He came up the slush-covered deck, heedless of his highly polished boots.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he greeted them with a stiff, military bow. "I trust you slept well?"
"Tolerably," Silk replied.
"It seems to be snowing," the general said, looking about and speaking in the tone of one making small talk for the sake of courtesy.
"I noticed that," Silk said. "How long is it likely to take us to reach Rak Hagga?"
" A few more hours to reach the coast, your Highness, and then a two-day ride to the city."
Silk nodded. "Have you any idea why your Emperor wants to see us?" he asked.
"He didn't say," Atesca answered shortly, "and I didn't think it appropriate to ask. He merely told me to apprehend you and to bring you to him at Rak Hagga. You are all to be treated with utmost courtesy as long as you don't try to escape. If you do that, his Imperial Majesty instructed me to be more firm." His tone as he spoke was neutral, and his face remained expressionless. "I hope you gentlemen will excuse me now," he, said. "I have some matters that need my attention." He bowed curtly, turned, and left them.
"He's a gold mine of information, isn't he?" Silk noted dryly. " Most Melcenes love to gossip, but you've got to pry every word out of this one."
"Melcene?" Garion said. "I didn't know that."
Silk nodded. " Atesca's a Melcene name. Kal Zakath has some peculiar ideas about the aristocracy of talent. Angarak officers don't like the idea, but there's not too much they can do about it -if they want to keep their heads."
Garion was not really that curious about the intricacies of Mallorean politics, so he let the matter drop, to return to the subject they had been discussing previously. "I'm not quite clear about what you were saying, Grandfather, " he said, "about our going to Rak Hagga, I mean."
"Cyradis believes that she has a choice to make," the old man replied," and there are certain conditions that have to be met before she can make it. I've got a suspicion that your meeting with Zakath might be one of those conditions."
"You don't actually believe her, do you?"
"I've seen stranger things happen and I always walk very softly around the Seers of Kell."
"I haven't seen anything about a meeting of that kind in the Mrin Codex."
" Neither have I, but there are more things in the world than the Mrin Codex. You've got to keep in mind the fact that Cyradis is drawing on the prophecies of both sides, and if the prophecies are equal, they have equal truth. Not only that, Cyradis is probably drawing on some prophecies that only the Seers know about. Wherever this list of preconditions came from, though, I'm fairly certain that she won't let us get to this 'place which is no more' until every item's been crossed off her list."