The Mage's Mistake
"Zakath! You came!" said the King of Riva as he greeted the Emperor of Angarak.
"Of course I came. We left as soon as we got your message about the Alorn council."
"You're late though. Everyone else is already here."
" Garion, Mallorea is a half a world away. It takes time to sail, even in good weather."
"I know that. Oh, by the way, where's Cyandis?"
"She's still in the boat.."
"Ship."
"Ship, boat, whatever. Anyway, she's on the ship.., never mind, here she comes now."
Garion waved to the former Seeress of Kell as she walked up the path from the docked ship. When she arrived, he swept her up in a hug.
"Cyandis! You're looking more beautiful than ever!"
The Empress of Mallorea blushed and said modestly, "Thou art kind, King of Riva."
"Nevertheless, it's true. Ce'Nedra and the other ladies have been waiting for you. Oh, and Cyandis, my name is Garion, not King of Riva or Godslayer." But Cyandis did not hear him, for she was already climbing into the waiting carriage. Garion sighed and climbed in after her, motioning for Zakath to follow.
After Zakath and Cyandis had settled in the castle, they joined the others in the council room. Garion smiled and looked around at the rulers and nobility of countless countries, all who were either close friends or acquaintances of his. With increasing frequency, however, non-Alorn rulers were coming to the yearly council at Riva. He laughed softly, remembering what had happened when Zakath and Cyandis had first came to Riva. There nearly was a riot in the streets, and the remnants of the Bear-Cult nearly had collective apoplexy. But it had all calmed down eventually, just like everything else had. His smile faded as he turned to the mound of paperwork that was the bane of every monarch. He sighed, and then saw his Aunt Pol looking at him, and their eyes met in perfect understanding. Then he sighed again and turned to the agenda.
"Well," rumbled Barak, an enormous red-bearded Cherek, an old friend of Garion's, and also the Earl of Trellheim, "what's the first thing on the agenda?"
Garion read off the agenda, "Well, first of all, The Mimbrates of Dal Perivor want to begin trade with the Algarians for horses."
Zakath winced at that. "I've seen their horses," he informed them, "They're no bigger than large dogs." It all went on like that for awhile, hammering out treaties, designating trade routes, and so forth. Unexpectedly, Silk, or Prince Kheldar of Drasnia (a title he seldom used) leaned back in his chair.
"You know," he said reflectively, " This is all so boring somehow. We've spent a decade or so fighting evil gods, searching for various magical stones, and going by the rules of two all-powerful omnipotent beings to correct a mistake that happened millennia ago. This seems so disgustingly.......... safe, somehow."
"Kheldar." reproved Ran Borune XXIV, Emperor of Tolnedra.
"Sorry about offending your delicate sensibilities, Varana. Can you ever forgive me?" Silk put on a hugely exaggerated face of sincerity.
"Just when you thought there was hope......... " murmured Velvet, Silk's wife.
Silk flashed her a grin, and Garion noted, as he always did when he saw the two, how perfect they were for each other. He was about to voice this when Sadi, the Nyissan ambassador said something first.
"I feel the same way, Kheldar," said Sadi, "I wish sometimes that we could have a adventures again, that something exciting would happen."
And, lo and behold...........
Silk saw it first.
"Belar!" he cried out, his normally unreadable face shocked.
"What is it?" demanded Hettar, the prince of the Algars, was shaken to see the normally unflappable Silk so startled.
"That!" Silk pointed to the center of the room, where a purple cloud was forming. Everyone either drew a weapon or ran to the other side of the room, while the sorcerers clenched their wills. Garion, after a moment's thought, translocated his sword from the throne room. When it appeared in his hands, he went into a fighter's crouch, and watched the familiar blue flames run over the blade. Suddenly, the cloud opened, and a lanky figure tumbled out. Then, the cloud faded, leaving only wisps of lavender smoke drifting around as if cut off from the source. The figure was sprawled on ground, completely still. Garion cautiously approached the figure and prodded it with his sword. The figure groaned and twitched, obviously in pain. When Polgara heard the person groan, she started toward it, worry on her flawless face, Ariana, the Mimbrate healer beside her. Durnik, Polgara's husband stopped her. "Pol, don't! He might be dangerous!"
She looked at her husband with a bit of amusement on her face.
"We don't know that, dear, just like we don't know whether it's a man or not."
"Well, all right, but be careful. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Let's hope we never have to find out. Now, Ariana...."
The two knelt by the unconscious figure. Polgara reached out and pulled the hood back.
There were gasps of disbelief all around the room, and Garion had nearly dropped his sword. The face was ebony-skinned, framed by long white hair. Yet, despite all this, the face was handsome, even beautiful, and his coloring was not a defect, but added to his exoticness. It was obvious that he was not of this world. Ariana, almost reverently, moved one of the locks of hair on the side of his face. She looked up with awe on her face. Without her usual eloquence, she murmured;
"He has pointed ears."
"Zakath! You came!" said the King of Riva as he greeted the Emperor of Angarak.
"Of course I came. We left as soon as we got your message about the Alorn council."
"You're late though. Everyone else is already here."
" Garion, Mallorea is a half a world away. It takes time to sail, even in good weather."
"I know that. Oh, by the way, where's Cyandis?"
"She's still in the boat.."
"Ship."
"Ship, boat, whatever. Anyway, she's on the ship.., never mind, here she comes now."
Garion waved to the former Seeress of Kell as she walked up the path from the docked ship. When she arrived, he swept her up in a hug.
"Cyandis! You're looking more beautiful than ever!"
The Empress of Mallorea blushed and said modestly, "Thou art kind, King of Riva."
"Nevertheless, it's true. Ce'Nedra and the other ladies have been waiting for you. Oh, and Cyandis, my name is Garion, not King of Riva or Godslayer." But Cyandis did not hear him, for she was already climbing into the waiting carriage. Garion sighed and climbed in after her, motioning for Zakath to follow.
After Zakath and Cyandis had settled in the castle, they joined the others in the council room. Garion smiled and looked around at the rulers and nobility of countless countries, all who were either close friends or acquaintances of his. With increasing frequency, however, non-Alorn rulers were coming to the yearly council at Riva. He laughed softly, remembering what had happened when Zakath and Cyandis had first came to Riva. There nearly was a riot in the streets, and the remnants of the Bear-Cult nearly had collective apoplexy. But it had all calmed down eventually, just like everything else had. His smile faded as he turned to the mound of paperwork that was the bane of every monarch. He sighed, and then saw his Aunt Pol looking at him, and their eyes met in perfect understanding. Then he sighed again and turned to the agenda.
"Well," rumbled Barak, an enormous red-bearded Cherek, an old friend of Garion's, and also the Earl of Trellheim, "what's the first thing on the agenda?"
Garion read off the agenda, "Well, first of all, The Mimbrates of Dal Perivor want to begin trade with the Algarians for horses."
Zakath winced at that. "I've seen their horses," he informed them, "They're no bigger than large dogs." It all went on like that for awhile, hammering out treaties, designating trade routes, and so forth. Unexpectedly, Silk, or Prince Kheldar of Drasnia (a title he seldom used) leaned back in his chair.
"You know," he said reflectively, " This is all so boring somehow. We've spent a decade or so fighting evil gods, searching for various magical stones, and going by the rules of two all-powerful omnipotent beings to correct a mistake that happened millennia ago. This seems so disgustingly.......... safe, somehow."
"Kheldar." reproved Ran Borune XXIV, Emperor of Tolnedra.
"Sorry about offending your delicate sensibilities, Varana. Can you ever forgive me?" Silk put on a hugely exaggerated face of sincerity.
"Just when you thought there was hope......... " murmured Velvet, Silk's wife.
Silk flashed her a grin, and Garion noted, as he always did when he saw the two, how perfect they were for each other. He was about to voice this when Sadi, the Nyissan ambassador said something first.
"I feel the same way, Kheldar," said Sadi, "I wish sometimes that we could have a adventures again, that something exciting would happen."
And, lo and behold...........
Silk saw it first.
"Belar!" he cried out, his normally unreadable face shocked.
"What is it?" demanded Hettar, the prince of the Algars, was shaken to see the normally unflappable Silk so startled.
"That!" Silk pointed to the center of the room, where a purple cloud was forming. Everyone either drew a weapon or ran to the other side of the room, while the sorcerers clenched their wills. Garion, after a moment's thought, translocated his sword from the throne room. When it appeared in his hands, he went into a fighter's crouch, and watched the familiar blue flames run over the blade. Suddenly, the cloud opened, and a lanky figure tumbled out. Then, the cloud faded, leaving only wisps of lavender smoke drifting around as if cut off from the source. The figure was sprawled on ground, completely still. Garion cautiously approached the figure and prodded it with his sword. The figure groaned and twitched, obviously in pain. When Polgara heard the person groan, she started toward it, worry on her flawless face, Ariana, the Mimbrate healer beside her. Durnik, Polgara's husband stopped her. "Pol, don't! He might be dangerous!"
She looked at her husband with a bit of amusement on her face.
"We don't know that, dear, just like we don't know whether it's a man or not."
"Well, all right, but be careful. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Let's hope we never have to find out. Now, Ariana...."
The two knelt by the unconscious figure. Polgara reached out and pulled the hood back.
There were gasps of disbelief all around the room, and Garion had nearly dropped his sword. The face was ebony-skinned, framed by long white hair. Yet, despite all this, the face was handsome, even beautiful, and his coloring was not a defect, but added to his exoticness. It was obvious that he was not of this world. Ariana, almost reverently, moved one of the locks of hair on the side of his face. She looked up with awe on her face. Without her usual eloquence, she murmured;
"He has pointed ears."