**Is it only three weeks? Seems much longer than that. In answer to your
question, Polgara should know about Garion's illness, but the nature of the
illness prevents her from knowing. **
The reactions were mixed. Belgarath and Durnik looked at each other quickly, Belgera gasped and clung to her brother, who held her tightly.
Poledra and Polgara exchanged glances, and then took on a look of feigned calm Belstad saw through in a second. The twins' lips wobbled, Kail and the Drasnian lad remained steady. They obviously already knew the news.
"What's wrong with him?" Belgarath asked.
Geran shrugged, blinking a little too fast. "I haven't seen him for a while. He's very forgetful, he's got a raging fever and he's too weak to stand. We've been trying to contact you for ages, but nothing worked, so we sent a normal messenger instead. We expected you the day after tomorrow if nothing went wrong. I take it you didn't see him?"
"Not that we know of," said Poledra. "I suppose we must have mislaid each other somewhere along the way."
The Drasnian lad chuckled. "I doubt it, rather," he said. "He's not known to mislay people. But we'll know soon, I suppose."
"Take us to Garion, then," said Polgara. "I'll have a look at him. It's probably just a bad case of flu from not staying out in the rain."
"That's what Mother said at first, Aunt Pol," said Geran, not meeting anyone's eyes. "We had physicians in. I know a fair bit of healing myself," he flicked his hand to indicate magic, "and I had a go, but nothing works. It's not a normal illness. I've seen inside him," he shuddered. "There's something black in there."
Polgara sped up, just a little noticeably. Belgarath took her arm. "Calm down," he said. "Panicking gets us nowhere."
Polgara glared and pulled her arm away, but Durnik whispered reassuring words to her, and she resumed the pace of the group as Geran led the way up the stairs to the Royal bedchambers.
Belstad kept his eye on the Drasnian all the way. He seemed ordinary enough. He wore a black silk doublet and hose, indicating wealth, though not as much as the complex embroidery which decorated them.
There were two snakes, one curling around each sleeve. One, a bright acid green, had black eyes twinkling on one wrist that looked like they may have been opals, and the other, a darker green with red-brown triangles down it's back, winked ruby eyes at him from the opposite shoulder.
He walked erect and proud, and could have been any noble, but for the fact that slight bulges in his soft boots indicated knives. He was quite handsome, and seemed somehow familiar to the young sorcerer. As though he had known him as a child.
Belstad looked up when Durnik stopped talking, and saw Geran indicate for silence.
A man was approaching. He was wearing a clean, dark green robe and there were no signs of scars on his face, but he had the air of a Murgo about him. One who rarely washed, at any rate.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," he said as he passed.
All present noticed the change of address. "What do you mean?" Geran snapped, suddenly becoming a different person. Cold and regal.
"Well," the man said, a little unsure of himself. "I assumed - "
"You assume too much," Geran told him. "Get out of my sight and never address me in that way again. The King lives on."
The Murgo scuttled away. Geran breathed heavily, his cheeks tinted red.
"Who's that?" Belgera asked quietly.
"Churrok," said Geran. "Murgo ambassador. I don't like him and he doesn't like me. Not many people do. Some people reckon Father only let him on the island as a special favour to King Urgit."
"But he doesn't ask favours often," said the Drasnian lad quickly.
"You would say that," Geran growled as he commenced walking.
"I like him, rather," said the other.
They had reached the door to Garion and Ce'Nedra's rooms.
Two guards in grey Rivan cloaks stood guarding it. They stood smartly and saluted when the Prince approached.
"Let me in, Karon," Geran said.
"Are you sure, your Highness?" said one.
"Quite sure."
"Rather you than me," said the other.
The Prince knocked softly.
"Who is it?" said a voice on the other side. A young, feminine voice. Belgera became alert at once.
"It's Geran."
"What do you want? It's at least two hours till supper and it's hectic in here."
"I've brought - "
"If you're looking for excitement, you can think again. It's so boring in here I think I'll burst. He only comes out of it about once an hour, and then only for five minutes. I left my book behind today, and Mother won't let me fetch it. The only one's in here are Grandfather's and nearly half of Aunt Pol's, and I've read them so many times - "
"Ce'Vanne," Geran said sternly. "Aunt Pol's here."
The door literally flew open. The girl in the doorway emitted a little squeak and hugged Polgara around the middle. Ten years didn't seem to make all that much difference to the fifteen-year old.
"Like a password," said Belgarath, obviously also hoping for a hug.
"Oh, you," said Ce'Vanne, and tugged his beard. She squeaked again when she saw Poledra, Durnik, Belgera and Belstad, and hugged them all in turn.
Where she had been sitting in the doorway was a chair, and on top was a very familiar looking book. Despite what she'd said, the bookworm had obviously been reading Polgara's book anyway.
**Can you tell I'm delaying the inevitable?
Love Laterose.**
The reactions were mixed. Belgarath and Durnik looked at each other quickly, Belgera gasped and clung to her brother, who held her tightly.
Poledra and Polgara exchanged glances, and then took on a look of feigned calm Belstad saw through in a second. The twins' lips wobbled, Kail and the Drasnian lad remained steady. They obviously already knew the news.
"What's wrong with him?" Belgarath asked.
Geran shrugged, blinking a little too fast. "I haven't seen him for a while. He's very forgetful, he's got a raging fever and he's too weak to stand. We've been trying to contact you for ages, but nothing worked, so we sent a normal messenger instead. We expected you the day after tomorrow if nothing went wrong. I take it you didn't see him?"
"Not that we know of," said Poledra. "I suppose we must have mislaid each other somewhere along the way."
The Drasnian lad chuckled. "I doubt it, rather," he said. "He's not known to mislay people. But we'll know soon, I suppose."
"Take us to Garion, then," said Polgara. "I'll have a look at him. It's probably just a bad case of flu from not staying out in the rain."
"That's what Mother said at first, Aunt Pol," said Geran, not meeting anyone's eyes. "We had physicians in. I know a fair bit of healing myself," he flicked his hand to indicate magic, "and I had a go, but nothing works. It's not a normal illness. I've seen inside him," he shuddered. "There's something black in there."
Polgara sped up, just a little noticeably. Belgarath took her arm. "Calm down," he said. "Panicking gets us nowhere."
Polgara glared and pulled her arm away, but Durnik whispered reassuring words to her, and she resumed the pace of the group as Geran led the way up the stairs to the Royal bedchambers.
Belstad kept his eye on the Drasnian all the way. He seemed ordinary enough. He wore a black silk doublet and hose, indicating wealth, though not as much as the complex embroidery which decorated them.
There were two snakes, one curling around each sleeve. One, a bright acid green, had black eyes twinkling on one wrist that looked like they may have been opals, and the other, a darker green with red-brown triangles down it's back, winked ruby eyes at him from the opposite shoulder.
He walked erect and proud, and could have been any noble, but for the fact that slight bulges in his soft boots indicated knives. He was quite handsome, and seemed somehow familiar to the young sorcerer. As though he had known him as a child.
Belstad looked up when Durnik stopped talking, and saw Geran indicate for silence.
A man was approaching. He was wearing a clean, dark green robe and there were no signs of scars on his face, but he had the air of a Murgo about him. One who rarely washed, at any rate.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," he said as he passed.
All present noticed the change of address. "What do you mean?" Geran snapped, suddenly becoming a different person. Cold and regal.
"Well," the man said, a little unsure of himself. "I assumed - "
"You assume too much," Geran told him. "Get out of my sight and never address me in that way again. The King lives on."
The Murgo scuttled away. Geran breathed heavily, his cheeks tinted red.
"Who's that?" Belgera asked quietly.
"Churrok," said Geran. "Murgo ambassador. I don't like him and he doesn't like me. Not many people do. Some people reckon Father only let him on the island as a special favour to King Urgit."
"But he doesn't ask favours often," said the Drasnian lad quickly.
"You would say that," Geran growled as he commenced walking.
"I like him, rather," said the other.
They had reached the door to Garion and Ce'Nedra's rooms.
Two guards in grey Rivan cloaks stood guarding it. They stood smartly and saluted when the Prince approached.
"Let me in, Karon," Geran said.
"Are you sure, your Highness?" said one.
"Quite sure."
"Rather you than me," said the other.
The Prince knocked softly.
"Who is it?" said a voice on the other side. A young, feminine voice. Belgera became alert at once.
"It's Geran."
"What do you want? It's at least two hours till supper and it's hectic in here."
"I've brought - "
"If you're looking for excitement, you can think again. It's so boring in here I think I'll burst. He only comes out of it about once an hour, and then only for five minutes. I left my book behind today, and Mother won't let me fetch it. The only one's in here are Grandfather's and nearly half of Aunt Pol's, and I've read them so many times - "
"Ce'Vanne," Geran said sternly. "Aunt Pol's here."
The door literally flew open. The girl in the doorway emitted a little squeak and hugged Polgara around the middle. Ten years didn't seem to make all that much difference to the fifteen-year old.
"Like a password," said Belgarath, obviously also hoping for a hug.
"Oh, you," said Ce'Vanne, and tugged his beard. She squeaked again when she saw Poledra, Durnik, Belgera and Belstad, and hugged them all in turn.
Where she had been sitting in the doorway was a chair, and on top was a very familiar looking book. Despite what she'd said, the bookworm had obviously been reading Polgara's book anyway.
**Can you tell I'm delaying the inevitable?
Love Laterose.**