"I think I'd prefer it if you didn't involve me in this discussion, your Excellency," Sadi answered.
"I was merely attempting to draw upon your Excellency's expertise in managing affairs of state."
"Salmissra's palace is somewhat unique," Sadi told him. "We like being jumbled together. It gives us greater opportunities for spying and murder and intrigue and the other normal functions of government."
As they approached the gates to the imperial complex, Garion noticed with some surprise that the thick bronze gates had been overlaid with beaten gold, and his thrifty Sendarian heritage recoiled from the thought of such wanton lavishness. Ce'Nedra, however, looked at the priceless gates with undisguised acquisitiveness.
"You wouldn't be able to move them," Silk advised her.
"What?" she said inattentively.
"The gates. They're much too heavy to steal."
"Shut up, Silk," she said absently, her eyes still appraising the gates.
He began to laugh uproariously, and she looked at him, her green eyes narrowing dangerously.
"I think I'll ride back to see what's keeping Belgarath," the little man said.
"Do," she said. Then she looked at Garion, who was trying to conceal a broad grin. "Something funny?" she asked him.
"No, dear," he replied quickly. "Just enjoying the scenery is all."
The detachment of guards at the gates was neither as burnished nor plumed as the ceremonial guards at the gates of Tol Honeth. They wore polished shirts of chain mail over the customary red tunic, baggy breeches tucked into the tops of knee-high boots, red cloaks, and pointed conical helmets. They nonetheless looked very much like soldiers. They greeted Kal Zakath with crisp military salutes, and, as the Emperor passed through the gilded gates, trumpeteers announced his entrance into the imperial compound with a brazen fanfare.
"I've always hated that," the Mallorean ruler said confidentially to Garion. "The sound grates on my ears."
"What irritated me were the people who used to follow me around hoping that I might need something," Garion told him.
"That's convenient sometimes."
Garion nodded. "Sometimes," he agreed, "but it stopped being convenient when one of them threw a knife at my back."
"Really? I thought your people universally adored you."
"It was a misunderstanding. The young man and I had a talk about it, and he promised not to do it any more."
"That's all?" Zakath exclaimed in astonishment. "You didn't have him executed?"
"Of course not. Once he and I understood each other, he turned out to be extraordinarily loyal." Garion sighed sadly. "He was killed at Thull Mardu."
"I'm sorry, Garion," Zakath said. "We all lost friends at Thull Mardu."
The marble-clad buildings inside the imperial complex were a jumble of conflicting architectural styles, ranging from the severely utilitarian to the elaborately ornate. For some reason Garion was reminded of the vast rabbit warren of King Anheg's palace at Val Alorn. Although Zakath's palace did not consist of one single building, the structures were all linked to each other by column-lined promenades and galleries which passed through park-like grounds studded with statues and marble pavilions.
Zakath led them through the confusing maze toward the middle of the complex, where a single palace stood in splendid isolation, announcing by its expanse and height that it was the center of all power in boundless Mallorea. "The residence of Kallath the Unifier," the Emperor announced with grand irony, "my revered ancestor."
"Isn't it just a bit overdone?" Ce'Nedra asked tartly, still obviously unwilling to concede the fact that Mal Zeth far outstripped her girlhood home.
"Of course it is," the Mallorean replied, "but the ostentation was necessary. Kallath had to demonstrate to the other generals that he outranked them, and in Mal Zeth one's rank is reflected by the size of one's residence. Kallath was an undisguised knave, a usurper and a man of little personal charm, so he had to assert himself in other ways."
"Don't you just love politics?" Velvet said to Ce'Nedra. "It's the only field where the ego is allowed unrestricted play -as long as the treasury holds out."
Zakath laughed. "I should offer you a position in the government, Margravine Liselle," he said. "I think we need an imperial deflator -someone to puncture all our puffed-up self-importance."
"Why, thank you, your Majesty," she said with a dimpled smile. " If it weren't for my commitments to the family business, I might even consider accepting such a post. It sounds like so much fun."
He sighed with mock regret. "Where were you when I needed a wife?"
"Probably in my cradle, your Majesty," she replied innocently.
He winced. "That was unkind," he accused.
"Yes," she agreed. "True, though," she added clinically.
He laughed again and looked at Polgara. "I'm going to steal her from you, my lady," he declared.
"To be your court jester, Kal Zakath?" Liselle asked, her face no longer lightly amused. "To entertain you with clever insults and banter? Ah, no. I don't think so. There's another side to me that I don't think you'd like very much. They call me 'Velvet' and think of me as a soft-winged butterfly, but this particular butterfly has a poisoned sting -as several people have discovered after it was too late."
"Behave, dear," Polgara murmured to her. "And don't give away trade secrets in a moment of pique." Velvet lowered her eyes. "Yes, Lady Polgara," she replied meekly.
Zakath looked at her, but did not say anything. He swung down from his saddle, and three grooms dashed to his side to take the reins from his hand. "Come along, then," he said to Garion and the others. "I'd like to show you around." He threw a sly glance at Velvet. "I hope that the Margravine will forgive me if I share every home owner's simple pride in his domicile -no matter how modest."
She laughed a golden little laugh.
Garion dismounted and laid an affectionate hand on Chretienne's proud neck. It was with a pang of almost tangible regret that he handed the reins to a waiting groom.
They entered the palace through broad, gilded doors and found themselves in a vaulted rotunda, quite similar in design to the one in the Emperor's palace in Tol Honeth, though this one lacked the marble busts that made Varana's entryway appear vaguely like a mausoleum. A crowd of officials, military and civilian, awaited their Emperor, each with a sheaf of important-looking documents in his hand.