"You're talking about something you don't understand," Garion told her. "Please, just leave me alone."
"Please?" she repeated mockingly. "What a strange time for you to remember your manners. I didn't hear you saying please this morning. I didn't hear a single please. I didn't hear any thank you's either. Do you know what you are, Garion? You're a spoiled child, that's what you are."
That did it! To have this pampered, willful little princess call him a spoiled child was more than Garion could bear. Infuriated, he began to shout at her. Most of what he said was wildly incoherent, but the shouting made him feel better.
They started with accusations, but the argument soon degenerated into name-calling. Ce'Nedra was screeching like a Camaar fishwife, and Garion's voice cracked and warbled between a manly baritone and a boyish tenor. They shook their fingers in each other's faces and shouted. Ce'Nedra stamped her feet, and Garion waved his arms. All in all, it was a splendid little fight. Garion felt much better when it was over. Yelling insults at Ce'Nedra was an innocent diversion compared to some of the deadly things he'd said to Aunt Pol that morning, and it allowed him to vent his confusion and anger harmlessly.
In the end, of course, Ce'Nedra resorted to tears and fled, leaving him feeling more foolish than ashamed. He fumed a bit, muttering a few choice insults he hadn't had the opportunity to deliver, and then he sighed and leaned pensively on the rail to watch night settle in over the dank city.
Though he would not have cared to admit it, even to himself, he was grateful to the princess. Their descent into absurdity had cleared his head. Quite clearly now he saw that he owed Aunt Pol an apology. He had lashed out at her out of his own sense of deep-seated guilt, trying somehow to shift the blame to her. Quite obviously there was no way to evade his own responsibility. Having accepted that, he seemed for some reason to feel better.
It grew darker. The tropical night was heavy, and the smell of rotting vegetation and stagnant water rolled in out of the trackless swamps. A vicious little insect crawled down inside his tunic and began to bite him somewhere between his shoulders where he could not reach.
There was absolutely no warning - no sound or lurch of the ship or any hint of danger. His arms were seized from behind and a wet cloth was pressed firmly over his mouth and nose. He tried to struggle, but the hands holding him were very strong. He tried to twist his head to get his face clear enough to shout for help. The cloth smelled strange - cloying, sickeningly sweet, thick somehow. He began to feel dizzy, and his struggles grew weaker. He made one last effort before the dizziness overcame him and he sank down into unconsciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
They were in a long hallway of some sort. Garion could see the flagstone floor quite clearly. Three men were carrying him face down, and his head bobbed and swung on his neck uncomfortably. His mouth was dry, and the thick, sweet smell that had impregnated the cloth they had crushed to his face lingered. He raised his head, trying to look around.
"He's awake," the man holding one of his arms said.
"Finally," one of the others muttered. "You held the cloth to his face too long, Issus."
"I know what I'm doing," the first one said.
"Put him down."
"Can you stand?" Issus asked Garion. His shaved head was stubbled, and he had a long scar running from his forehead to his chin directly through the puckered vacancy of an empty eye-socket. His belted robe was stained and spotted.
"Get up," Issus ordered in a hissing kind of voice. He nudged Garion with his foot. Garion struggled to rise. His knees were shaky, and he put his hand on the wall to steady himself. The stones were damp and covered with a kind of mold.
"Bring him," Issus told the others. They took Garion's arms and half-dragged, half-carried him down the damp passageway behind the one-eyed man. When they came out of the corridor, they were in a vaulted area that seemed not so much like a room but rather a large roofed place. Huge pillars, covered with carvings, supported the soaring ceiling, and small oil lamps hung on long chains from above or sat on little stone shelves on the pillars. There was a confused sense of movement as groups of men in varicolored robes drifted from place to place in a kind of langorous stupor.
"You," Issus snapped at a plump young man with dreamy eyes, "tell Sadi, the chief eunuch, that we have the boy."
"Tell him yourself," the young man said in a piping voice. "I don't take orders from your kind, Issus."
Issus slapped the plump young man sharply across the face.
"You hit me!" the plump one wailed, putting his hand to his mouth. "You made my lip bleed - see?" He held out his hand to show the blood.
"If you don't do what I tell you to do, I'll cut your fat throat," Issus told him in a flat, unemotional voice.
"I'm going to tell Sadi what you did."
"Go ahead. And as long as you're there, tell him that we've got the boy the queen wanted."
The plump young man scurried away.
"Eunuchs!" One of the men holding Garion's arm spat.
"They have their uses," the other said with a coarse laugh.
"Bring the boy," Issus ordered. "Sadi doesn't like to be kept waiting."
They pulled Garion across the lighted area.
A group of wretched-looking men with unkempt hair and beards sat chained together on the floor. "Water," one of them croaked. "Please." He stretched out an imploring hand.
Issus stopped and stared at the slave in amazement. "Why does this one still have its tongue?" he demanded of the guard who stood over the slaves.
The guard shrugged. "We haven't had time to attend to that yet."
"Take time," Issus told him. "If one of the priests hear it talk, they'll have you questioned. You wouldn't like that."
"I'm not afraid of the priests," the guard said, but he looked nervously over his shoulder.
"Be afraid," Issus advised him. "And water these animals. They're no good to anybody dead." He started to lead the men holding Garion through a shadowy area between two pillars, then stopped again. "Get out of my way," he said to something lying in the shadows. Grudgingly, the thing began to move. With revulsion Garion realized that it was a large snake.
"Get over there with the others," Issus told the snake. He pointed toward a dimly lighted corner where a large mass seemed to be undulating, moving with a kind of sluggish seething. Faintly Garion could hear the dry hiss of scales rubbing together. The snake which had barred their way flicked a nervous tongue at Issus, then slithered toward the dim corner.
"Someday you're going to get bitten, Issus," one of the men warned. "They don't like being ordered around."
Issus shrugged indifferently and moved on.
"Sadi wants to talk to you," the plump young eunuch said spitefully to Issus as they approached a large polished door. "I told him that you hit me. Maas is with him."
"Good," Issus said. He pushed the door open. "Sadi," he called sharply, "tell your friend I'm coming in. I don't want him making any mistakes."
"He knows you, Issus," a voice on the other side of the door said. "He won't do anything by mistake."
Issus went in and closed the door behind him.
"You can leave now," one of the men holding Garion told the young eunuch.
The plump one sniffed. "I go where Sadi tells me to go."
"And come running when Sadi whistles, too."
"That's between Sadi and me, isn't it?"
"Bring him in," Issus ordered, opening the door again.
The two men pushed Garion into the room. "We'll wait out here," one of them said nervously.
Issus laughed harshly, pushed the door shut with his foot, and pulled Garion to the front of a table where a single oil lamp flickered with a tiny flame that barely held back the darkness. A thin man with deadlooking eyes sat at the table, lightly stroking his hairless head with the long fingers of one hand.
"Can you speak, boy?" he asked Garion. His voice had a strange contralto quality to it, and his silk robe was a solid crimson r
ather than varicolored.
"Could I have a drink of water?" Garion asked.
"In a minute."
"I'll take my money now, Sadi," Issus said.
"As soon as we're sure this is the right boy," Sadi replied.
"Ask it what its name is," a hissing whisper said from the darkness behind Garion.
"I will, Maas." Sadi looked faintly annoyed at the suggestion. "I've done this before."
"You're taking too long," the whisper said.
"Say your name, boy," Sadi told Garion.
"Doroon," Garion lied quickly. "I'm really very thirsty."
"Do you take me for a fool, Issus?" Sadi asked. "Did you think just any boy would satisfy me?"
"This is the boy you told me to fetch," Issus said. "I can't help it if your information was wrong."
"You say your name is Doroon?" Sadi asked.
"Yes," Garion said. "I'm the cabin-boy on Captain Greldik's ship. Where are we?"
"I'll ask the questions, boy," Sadi said.
"It's lying," the sibilant whisper came from behind Garion.
"I know that, Maas," Sadi replied calmly. "They always do at first."
"We don't have time for all this," the hiss said. "Give it oret. I need the truth immediately."
"Whatever you say, Maas," Sadi agreed. He rose to his feet and disappeared momentarily into the shadows behind the table. Garion heard a clink and then the sound of water pouring. "Remembering that this was your idea, Maas. If she becomes angry about it, I don't want to be the one she blames."
"She'll understand, Sadi."
"Here, boy," Sadi offered, coming back into the light and holding out a brown earthenware cup.
"Uh-no, thank you," Garion said. "I guess I'm not really thirsty after all."
"You might as well drink it, boy," Sadi told him. "If you don't, Issus will hold you, and I'll pour it down your throat. It isn't going to hurt you.
"Drink," the hissing voice commanded.
"Better do as they say," Issus advised.
Helplessly Garion took the cup. The water had a strangely bitter taste and seemed to burn his tongue.
"Much better," Sadi said, resuming his seat behind the table. "Now, you say your name is Doroon?"
"Yes."
"Where are you from, Doroon?"
"Sendaria."
"Where exactly in Sendaria?"
"Near Darine on the north coast."
"What are you doing on a Cherek ship?"
"Captain Greldik's a friend of my father," Garion said. For some reason he suddenly wanted to explain further. "My father wanted me to learn about ships. He says that being a sailor's better than being a farmer. Captain Greldik agreed to teach me what I'd need to know to be a sailor. He says I'll be good at it because I didn't even get seasick, and I'm not afraid to climb up the ropes that hold the sails in place, and I'm almost strong enough to pull an oar already, and-"
"What did you say your name was, boy?"
"Garion - I mean - uh - Doroon. Yes, Doroon, and-"
"How old are you, Garion?"
"Fifteen last Erastide. Aunt Pol says that people who are born on Erastide are very lucky, only I haven't noticed that I'm luckier than-"
"And who is Aunt Pol?"
"She's my aunt. We used to live on Faldor's farm, but Mister Wolf came and we-"
"Do people call her something besides Aunt Pol?"
"King Fulrach called her Polgara - that was when Captain Brendig took us all to the palace in Sendar. Then we went to King Anheg's palace in Val Alorn, and-"
"Who's Mister Wolf?"
"My grandfather. They call him Belgarath. I didn't used to believe it, but I guess it has to be true because one time he-"
"And why did you all leave Faldor's farm?"
"I didn't know why at first, but then I found out that it was because Zedar stole the Orb of Aldur off the pommel of the Sword of the Rivan King, and we've got to get it back before Zedar can take it to Torak and wake him up and-"
"This is the boy we want," the hissing voice whispered.
Garion turned around slowly. The room seemed brighter now, as if the tiny flame were putting out more light. In the corner, rearing out of its own coils and with a strangely flattened neck and glowing eyes was a very large snake.
"We can take it to Salmissra now," the snake hissed. It lowered itself to the floor and crawled across to Garion. He felt its cold, dry nose touch his leg, and then, though a hidden part of his mind shrieked, he stood unresisting as the scaly body slowly mounted his leg and coiled upward until the snake's head reared beside his face and its flickering tongue touched his face. "Be very good, boy," the snake hissed in his ear, "very, very good." The reptile was heavy, and its coils thick and cold.
"This way, boy," Sadi told Garion, rising to his feet.
"I want my money," Issus demanded.
"Oh," Sadi said almost contemptuously, "that. It's in that pouch there on the table." Then he turned and led Garion from the room.
"Garion." The dry voice that had always been in his mind spoke quietly to him. "I want you to listen carefully. Don't say anything or let anything show on your face. Just listen to me. "
"Who are you?" Garion asked silently, struggling with the fog in his brain.
"You know me, " the dry voice told him. "Now listen. They've given you something that makes you do what they want you to do. Don't fight against it. Just relax and don't fight it. "
"But - I said things I shouldn't have. I-"
"That doesn't matter now. Just do as I say. If anything happens and it starts to get dangerous, don't fight. I'll take care of it - but I can't do it if you're struggling. You have to relax so that I can do what has to be done. If you suddenly find yourself doing things or saying things you don't understand, don't be afraid and don't try to fight. It won't be them; it will be me."
Comforted by this silent reassurance, Garion walked obediently beside Sadi the eunuch while the coils of the snake, Maas, lay heavily about his chest and shoulders and the bluntly pointed reptilian head rested, almost nuzzling, against his cheek.
They entered a large room where the walls were heavily draped and crystal oil lamps hung glittering on silver chains. An enormous stone statue, its upper third lost in the shadows high above, raised its mass titanically at one end of the room, and directly in front of the statue was a low stone platform, carpeted and strewn with cushions. Upon the platform stood a heavy divan that was not quite a chair and not quite a couch.
There was a woman on the divan. Her hair was raven black, cascading in loose coils down her back and across her shoulders. About her head was an intricately wrought golden crown sparkling with jewels. Her gown was white and spun of the filmiest gauze. It did not in any way conceal her body, but rather seemed to be worn only to provide a material to which her jewels and adornments could be attached. Beneath the gauze, her skin was an almost chalky white, and her face was extraordinarily beautiful. Her eyes were pale, even colorless. A large, gold-framed mirror stood on a pedestal at one side of the divan, and the woman lounged at ease, admiring herself in the glass.
Two dozen shaven-headed eunuchs in crimson robes knelt in a cluster to one side of the dais, resting on their haunches and gazing at the woman and the statue behind her with worshipful adoration.
Among the cushions at the side of the divan lolled an indolent, pampered-looking young man whose head was not shaved. His hair was elaborately curled, his cheeks were rouged, and his eyes were fantastically made up. He wore only the briefest of loincloths, and his expression was bored and sulky. The woman absently ran the fingers of one hand through his curls as she watched herself in the mirror.
"The queen has visitors," one of the kneeling eunuchs announced in a singsong voice.
"Ah," the others chanted in unison, "visitors."
"Hail, Eternal Salmissra," Sadi the eunuch said, prostrating himself before the dais and the pale-eyed woman.
"What is it, Sadi?" she demanded. Her voice was vibrant and had a strange
, dark timbre.
"The boy, my Queen," Sadi announced, his face still pressed to the floor.
"On your knees before the Serpent Queen," the snake hissed in Garion's ear. The coils tightened about Garion's body, and he fell to his knees in their sudden crushing grip.
"Come here, Maas," Salmissra said to the snake.
"The queen summons the beloved serpent," the eunuch intoned. "Ah."
The reptile uncoiled itself from about Garion's body and undulated up to the foot of the divan, reared half its length above the reclining woman and then lowered itself upon her body, its thick length curving, fitting itself to her. The blunt head reached up to her face, and she kissed it affectionately. The long, forked tongue flickered over her face, and Maas began to whisper sibilantly in her ear. She lay in the embrace of the serpent, listening to its hissing voice and looking at Garion with heavy-lidded eyes.
Then, pushing the reptile aside, the queen rose to her feet and stood over Garion. "Welcome to the land of the snake-people, Belgarion," she said in her purring voice.
The name, which he had heard only from Aunt Pol before, sent a strange shock through Garion, and he tried to shake the fog from his head.
"Not yet," the dry voice in his mind warned him.
Salmissra stepped down from the dais, her body moving with a sinuous grace beneath her transparent gown. She took one of Garion's arms and drew him gently to his feet; then she touched his face lingeringly. Her hand seemed very cold. "A pretty young man," she breathed, almost as if to herself. "So young. So warm." Her look seemed somehow hungry.
A strange confusion seemed to fill Garion's mind. The bitter drink Sadi had given him still lay on his consciousness like a blanket. Beneath it he felt at once afraid and yet strangely attracted to the queen. Her chalky skin and dead eyes were repellent, yet there was a kind of lush invitation about her, an overripe promise of unspeakable delights. Unconsciously he took a step backward.