‘Things turned out rather well,’ Silk smirked.

‘His Majesty should be pleased to hear that.’

They entered the garish Drojim Palace, and Oskatat led them down a smoky, torch-lit hall toward the throne room. ‘His Majesty has been expecting these people,’ Oskatat said harshly to the guards. ‘He will see them now. Open the door.’

One of the guards seemed to be new. ‘But they’re Alorns, Lord Oskatat,’ he objected.

‘So? Open the door.’

‘But—’

Oskatat coolly drew his heavy sword. ‘Yes?’ he said in a deceptively mild tone.

‘Ah – nothing, my Lord Oskatat,’ the guard repeated. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘Why is the door still closed then?’

The door was quickly snatched open.

‘Kheldar!’ It was a ringing shout, and it came from the far end of the throne room. King Urgit bolted down the steps of the dais, flinging his crown over one shoulder as he ran. He caught Silk in a rough embrace, laughing uncontrollably. ‘I thought you were dead,’ he crowed.

‘You’re looking well, Urgit,’ Silk said to him.

Urgit made a slight face. ‘I’m married now, you know,’ he said.

‘I was afraid Prala might get you eventually. I’m getting married myself shortly.’

‘The blond girl? Prala told me about how she felt about you. Imagine that, the invincible Prince Kheldar, married at last.’

‘Don’t make any large wagers on it just yet, Urgit,’ Silk told his brother. ‘I may still decide to fall on my sword instead. Are we sort of alone here? We’ve got some things to tell you, and our time’s a bit short.’

‘Mother and Prala are here,’ Urgit told him, ‘and my stepfather here, of course.’

‘Stepfather?’ Silk exclaimed, looking at Oskatat in surprise.

‘Mother was getting lonely. She missed all the playful abuse Taur Urgas used to bestow on her. I used my influence to marry her off to Oskatat. I’m afraid he’s been a terrible disappointment to her, though. So far as I know, he hasn’t knocked her down a single flight of stairs or kicked her in the head even once.’

‘He’s impossible when he’s like this,’ Oskatat apologized for his king.

‘Just brimming over with good spirits, Oskatat,’ Urgit laughed. ‘By Torak’s boiling eye, I’ve missed you, Kheldar.’ Then he greeted Garion and Belgarath and looked inquiringly at Barak, Mandorallen, and Hettar.

‘Barak, Earl of Trellheim,’ Silk introduced the red-bearded giant.

‘He’s even bigger than they say he is,’ Urgit noted.

‘Sir Mandorallen, Baron of Vo Mandor,’ Silk went on.

‘The Gods’ own definition of the word gentleman,’ Urgit said.

‘And Hettar, son of King Cho Hag of Algaria.’

Urgit shrank away, his eyes suddenly fearful. Even Oskatat took a step backward.

‘Not to worry, Urgit,’ Silk said grandly. ‘Hettar came all the way through the streets of your capital, and he didn’t kill even one of your subjects.’

‘Remarkable,’ Urgit murmured nervously. ‘You’ve changed, Lord Hettar,’ he said. ‘You’re reputed to be a thousand feet tall and to wear a necklace of Murgo skulls.’

‘I’m on vacation,’ Hettar said drily.

Urgit grinned. ‘We aren’t going to be unpleasant to each other, are we?’ he asked, still slightly apprehensive.

‘No, your Majesty,’ Hettar told him, ‘I don’t think we are. For some reason, you intrigue me.’

‘That’s a relief,’ Urgit said. ‘If you find yourself getting edgy, though, be sure to let me know. There are still a dozen of so of my father’s generals lurking about the Drojim. Oskatat hasn’t found a reason to have them beheaded yet. I’ll send for them, and you can settle your nerves. They’re just a bother to me anyway.’ He frowned. ‘I wish I’d known you were coming,’ he said. ‘I’ve wanted to send your father a present for years now.’

Hettar looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

‘He did me the greatest service any man can ever do for another. He ran his saber through Taur Urgas’ guts. You might tell him that I tidied up for him afterward.’

‘Oh? My father doesn’t usually need to be tidied up after.’

‘Oh, Taur Urgas was dead enough all right,’ Urgit assured him, ‘but I didn’t want some Grolim to come along and accidentally resurrect him, so I cut his throat before we buried him.’

‘Cut his throat?’ Even Hettar seemed startled by that.

‘From ear to ear,’ Urgit said happily. ‘I stole a little knife when I was about ten, and I spent the next several years sharpening it. After I slit his weasand, I drove a stake through his heart and buried him seventeen feet deep – head down. He looked better than he had in years with just his feet sticking up out of the dirt. I paused to enjoy that sight while I was resting from all the shoveling.’

‘You buried him yourself?’ Barak asked.

‘I certainly wasn’t going to let anybody else do it. I wanted to be sure of him. After I had him well planted, I stampeded horses across his grave several times to conceal the spot. As you may have guessed, my father and I were not on the best of terms. I take some pleasure in knowing that not a single living Murgo knows exactly where he’s buried. Why don’t we go join my queen and my mother? Then you can tell me your splendid news – whatever it is. Dare I hope that Kal Zakath rests in the arms of Torak?’

‘I wouldn’t think so.’

‘Pity,’ Urgit said.

As soon as they found out that Polgara, Ce’Nedra, and Velvet were still on board Seabird, Queen Prala and Queen Mother Tamazin excused themselves and left the throne room to renew old acquaintances.

‘Find seats, gentlemen,’ Urgit said after they had left. He sprawled on his throne with one leg cocked up over the arm. ‘What are these things you wanted to tell me, Kheldar?’

Silk sat down on the edge of the dais and reached inside his tunic.

‘Please don’t do that, Kheldar,’ Urgit told him, shying away. ‘I know how many daggers you carry.’

‘Not a dagger this time, Urgit,’ Silk assured him. ‘Only this.’ He handed over a folded parchment packet.

Urgit opened it and scanned it quickly. ‘Who’s Oldorin of Perivor?’ he asked.