Chapter Four
There was an expression of shock on Drizzt's face.
"You killed a god?" he choked out.
Garion leaned back in his chair and sighed.
"Yes," he said sadly, "But even though he was twisted and evil, he was still a god, and killing a god is a terrible thing to do."
"By the way" Belgarath said unexpectedly," What kind of gods do you have in your world?"
As Drizzt mused over this question, he toyed with his glass of water. Garion saw this, and grinned. He recalled with some amusement what had happened earlier.
*Flashback*
"I'm thirsty now," commented Belgarath. "I'm not used to so much talking."
"I never thought I'd see the day," snipped Polgara.
Belgarath gave Garion a sidelong glance. Garion understood and pulled himself to his feet.
"Silk?" he queried.
"Ale for me too."
"Barak?"
"All right."
"Master Drizzt?"
The drow elf made a face. "Thank you for the offer, but I'd prefer water."
The curious Silk asked, "Do you get intoxicated easily?"
"No, quite the opposite, actually. I can drink gallons, and not get dizzy. But I hate the taste, and the smell is terrible."
Poledra looked at him appreciatively, and Velvet spoke to Silk. "Are you taking notes, Kheldar?"
"Me?"
"Yes. You."
*End Flashback* His thinking was interrupted by Drizzt's answer.
"There are hundreds. No one has ever been able to count them all. But some of the more noticeable ones are Mystra, the goddess of magic, Cyric, the god of murder, Helm the god of watchers and guardians. Also there are the old gods, Amaunator being the most important. Then there is Lloth, the Spider Queen."
"There's a god of murder?" said the horrified yet fascinated Lelldorin."
Ce'Nedra shivered. From Drizzt's descriptions, Lloth was as bad as Torak. She couldn't even imagine the suffering he had gone through, and all because he wanted to find a home, where his enemies would just leave him alone.
To head off an uncomfortable situation, she asked, "Which god do you follow, if I may be so bold?"
Drizzt gave her a gentle smile. "It's all right, your Majesty. But I follow no god."
"Well, that's understandable," said Hettar in typical Alorn understatement.
"Ah, but you have missed my meaning, your Highness," said a smirking Drizzt. Realization dawned on Garion just as Silk blurted it out.
"What he means, Hettar, is that he follows a goddess, a female deity."
"What is the name of your goddess, Master Drizzt?" asked Relg, the Ulgo zealot, in a slightly disapproving tone.
"Relg, not again..."
"Her name is Mielikki, the Lady of the Forest," he said in his quiet voice, and Garion could see the awe and love that he bore for the goddess in his eyes.
Silk cleared his throat and said, "Ahh, friend Drizzt?"
"Yes?"
"You can drop the 'your Highness' bit. We're all friends here. I'm sure that goes for everyone here, am I correct?"
Everyone around the room nodded. They all felt a peculiar kinship with the stoic drow ranger.
"So, please don't call me Highness, under any circumstances. All right? My name is Silk."
"Then you must call me Drizzt."
"Agreed."
"Drizzt," Belgarath said suddenly, "I'm afraid you are going to have to lay low while you stay at Riva. We don't want anyone to attack you, and you are fairly noticeable. Oh, and Silk..."
"Yes, Belgarath?"
"If you breathe a word of this to Javelin, or to anyone else, you'll wish Taur Urgas had gotten you. That goes for you too, Liselle.
"Yes, Ancient One. It shall be as you say."
"I mean it, young lady!"
"Cheer up, Belgarath. The worst that could happen was that the Bear-Cult would find out..."
No sooner was this said when the guard outside the door poked his head into the room. Drizzt was barely able to get his hood up in time. The guard, looking flustered, stammered,
"A thousand pardons, my lords and ladies, but the High Priest is here to see you. I told him that you were not to be disturbed, but he insisted."
Garion straightened in his chair and said in a imposing voice,
"The Crown is always eager to listen to the emissary of the Bear-Cult."
As the guard scurried outside, Polgara murmured to Garion,
"You're getting better at this, dear."
"Practice makes perfect."
During this little exchange, Poledra looked straight at Drizzt.
"One would advise one to keep one's hood down. The Bear-Cult would think the worst of one. They are very good at seeing only what is on the outside, and not what is beneath." Drizzt, puzzling past the strange dialogue, nodded his thanks.
The High Priest was an impressive sight. He was seven feet tall, and had a bushy beard that stuck out in all directions. Ce'Nedra always was fascinated in watching him talk . "It's like an animated hedge." She told Garion once.
The priest stood before them now, looking out-of-place in the posh surroundings, in rough, uncured bear hide and chain mail. He bowed and proclaimed in a loud voice,
"Hail, Belgarion, Godslayer, Overlord of the West, Lord of the Western Sea."
"Hello, Jarok. Have a seat."
The huge man fumbled a bit, than took the nearest chair, which creaked in protest. He leaned forward, a serious expression on his face.
"Your Majesty, gladly would I talk with you, but a matter of severe urgency has come to my attention."
Garion put an expression of polite, distant interest on his face.
"Oh? What's that?"
"Do you perchance remember what Belar said before he left to guide us in spirit form?"
"You mean, leading the West against the Angaraks? But the Angaraks are no longer a threat, as you can see." Garion gestured toward Zakath and Urgit. The priest gave a nervous glance toward the others in the room, and continued rather delicately.
"Your Majesty, when are you planning on, ahh, expanding your realm?"
Then, all hell broke loose. Everyone with a weapon leapt to their feet, shouting obscenities. Drizzt heard several hair-raising comments on the man's mother, birth, and bathing habits. He chuckled inwardly at some of the words. These people could put Bruenor to shame. Garion came to his feet, his eyes blazing.
"Jarok, the rulers of all the countries in the known world are either friends or acquaintances. I would not risk those friendships for the world."
"You could have the world, you fool! With your sorcery, you could cut down any army..." "Not a word!" roared Garion, his patience worn thin.
The priest clambered awkwardly to his feet, and Drizzt noted with interest that his face was rapidly turning a bright shade of purple.
"You could rule the world," he hissed, "and I would be more powerful than an emperor."
"The world is not meant to be ruled by any man, and I think the gods would disapprove," retorted Garion.
"You are dismissed, Jarok, and let me hear no more of this." The enraged priest started toward Garion, but Drizzt stepped in front of him and drew his scimitars.
"You will leave," he said flatly, "Now."
The priest swallowed heavily, and backed out of the room.
"You'll hear from me soon, Godslayer," he promised. "Don't think I'll forget this!"
He turned, and stalked out of the room.
There was an expression of shock on Drizzt's face.
"You killed a god?" he choked out.
Garion leaned back in his chair and sighed.
"Yes," he said sadly, "But even though he was twisted and evil, he was still a god, and killing a god is a terrible thing to do."
"By the way" Belgarath said unexpectedly," What kind of gods do you have in your world?"
As Drizzt mused over this question, he toyed with his glass of water. Garion saw this, and grinned. He recalled with some amusement what had happened earlier.
*Flashback*
"I'm thirsty now," commented Belgarath. "I'm not used to so much talking."
"I never thought I'd see the day," snipped Polgara.
Belgarath gave Garion a sidelong glance. Garion understood and pulled himself to his feet.
"Silk?" he queried.
"Ale for me too."
"Barak?"
"All right."
"Master Drizzt?"
The drow elf made a face. "Thank you for the offer, but I'd prefer water."
The curious Silk asked, "Do you get intoxicated easily?"
"No, quite the opposite, actually. I can drink gallons, and not get dizzy. But I hate the taste, and the smell is terrible."
Poledra looked at him appreciatively, and Velvet spoke to Silk. "Are you taking notes, Kheldar?"
"Me?"
"Yes. You."
*End Flashback* His thinking was interrupted by Drizzt's answer.
"There are hundreds. No one has ever been able to count them all. But some of the more noticeable ones are Mystra, the goddess of magic, Cyric, the god of murder, Helm the god of watchers and guardians. Also there are the old gods, Amaunator being the most important. Then there is Lloth, the Spider Queen."
"There's a god of murder?" said the horrified yet fascinated Lelldorin."
Ce'Nedra shivered. From Drizzt's descriptions, Lloth was as bad as Torak. She couldn't even imagine the suffering he had gone through, and all because he wanted to find a home, where his enemies would just leave him alone.
To head off an uncomfortable situation, she asked, "Which god do you follow, if I may be so bold?"
Drizzt gave her a gentle smile. "It's all right, your Majesty. But I follow no god."
"Well, that's understandable," said Hettar in typical Alorn understatement.
"Ah, but you have missed my meaning, your Highness," said a smirking Drizzt. Realization dawned on Garion just as Silk blurted it out.
"What he means, Hettar, is that he follows a goddess, a female deity."
"What is the name of your goddess, Master Drizzt?" asked Relg, the Ulgo zealot, in a slightly disapproving tone.
"Relg, not again..."
"Her name is Mielikki, the Lady of the Forest," he said in his quiet voice, and Garion could see the awe and love that he bore for the goddess in his eyes.
Silk cleared his throat and said, "Ahh, friend Drizzt?"
"Yes?"
"You can drop the 'your Highness' bit. We're all friends here. I'm sure that goes for everyone here, am I correct?"
Everyone around the room nodded. They all felt a peculiar kinship with the stoic drow ranger.
"So, please don't call me Highness, under any circumstances. All right? My name is Silk."
"Then you must call me Drizzt."
"Agreed."
"Drizzt," Belgarath said suddenly, "I'm afraid you are going to have to lay low while you stay at Riva. We don't want anyone to attack you, and you are fairly noticeable. Oh, and Silk..."
"Yes, Belgarath?"
"If you breathe a word of this to Javelin, or to anyone else, you'll wish Taur Urgas had gotten you. That goes for you too, Liselle.
"Yes, Ancient One. It shall be as you say."
"I mean it, young lady!"
"Cheer up, Belgarath. The worst that could happen was that the Bear-Cult would find out..."
No sooner was this said when the guard outside the door poked his head into the room. Drizzt was barely able to get his hood up in time. The guard, looking flustered, stammered,
"A thousand pardons, my lords and ladies, but the High Priest is here to see you. I told him that you were not to be disturbed, but he insisted."
Garion straightened in his chair and said in a imposing voice,
"The Crown is always eager to listen to the emissary of the Bear-Cult."
As the guard scurried outside, Polgara murmured to Garion,
"You're getting better at this, dear."
"Practice makes perfect."
During this little exchange, Poledra looked straight at Drizzt.
"One would advise one to keep one's hood down. The Bear-Cult would think the worst of one. They are very good at seeing only what is on the outside, and not what is beneath." Drizzt, puzzling past the strange dialogue, nodded his thanks.
The High Priest was an impressive sight. He was seven feet tall, and had a bushy beard that stuck out in all directions. Ce'Nedra always was fascinated in watching him talk . "It's like an animated hedge." She told Garion once.
The priest stood before them now, looking out-of-place in the posh surroundings, in rough, uncured bear hide and chain mail. He bowed and proclaimed in a loud voice,
"Hail, Belgarion, Godslayer, Overlord of the West, Lord of the Western Sea."
"Hello, Jarok. Have a seat."
The huge man fumbled a bit, than took the nearest chair, which creaked in protest. He leaned forward, a serious expression on his face.
"Your Majesty, gladly would I talk with you, but a matter of severe urgency has come to my attention."
Garion put an expression of polite, distant interest on his face.
"Oh? What's that?"
"Do you perchance remember what Belar said before he left to guide us in spirit form?"
"You mean, leading the West against the Angaraks? But the Angaraks are no longer a threat, as you can see." Garion gestured toward Zakath and Urgit. The priest gave a nervous glance toward the others in the room, and continued rather delicately.
"Your Majesty, when are you planning on, ahh, expanding your realm?"
Then, all hell broke loose. Everyone with a weapon leapt to their feet, shouting obscenities. Drizzt heard several hair-raising comments on the man's mother, birth, and bathing habits. He chuckled inwardly at some of the words. These people could put Bruenor to shame. Garion came to his feet, his eyes blazing.
"Jarok, the rulers of all the countries in the known world are either friends or acquaintances. I would not risk those friendships for the world."
"You could have the world, you fool! With your sorcery, you could cut down any army..." "Not a word!" roared Garion, his patience worn thin.
The priest clambered awkwardly to his feet, and Drizzt noted with interest that his face was rapidly turning a bright shade of purple.
"You could rule the world," he hissed, "and I would be more powerful than an emperor."
"The world is not meant to be ruled by any man, and I think the gods would disapprove," retorted Garion.
"You are dismissed, Jarok, and let me hear no more of this." The enraged priest started toward Garion, but Drizzt stepped in front of him and drew his scimitars.
"You will leave," he said flatly, "Now."
The priest swallowed heavily, and backed out of the room.
"You'll hear from me soon, Godslayer," he promised. "Don't think I'll forget this!"
He turned, and stalked out of the room.