Belgarion, King of the Isle of the Winds, Godslayer, Ruler of the Western Sea, Overlord of the West and previous Child of Light sat at the Alorn Council, listening to the droning voices of the nobles who lived in Algaria. It was at Cho-Hag's place this year, and he always looked forward to these gatherings, well, some parts of them anyway. Back when the world was in peril from the Dark Prophecy, Garion had been the center of everyone's attention, and there was always something to talk about. Even after he had slain Torak, there was still the Bear Cult, the Angaraks, and later, as he learned, the actual Dark Prophecies to deal with. That, of course, had all come suddenly to a stop after Cyrandis had chosen Light over Dark, and he, Aheg, Varana and Zakath had devised a peace treaty for the entire world to follow. Times were boring, and that was good, he supposed. But, a man always needed a bit of an adventure to spice up life, didn't he?
This particular noble was talking about how the Murgos had cheated him profusely on a horse he was trying to sell. Most of these speeches were based on something of that like, and they were almost all identical. Garion just sat and let Cho-Hag and the others handle it. Finally, after the last complaint was made, they could finally breath freely, and talk amoungst themselves.
"So, Garion", Aheg bellowed out towards the Rivan Monarch. "How is life on Riva?" Aheg was the King of the Chereks, and from his mere appearance there was no question to his prowess in battle. The man was huge, with a long black beard descending from his chin. Although he was getting older, which was natural Garion supposed, he was still as loud as ever.
"Everythings alright, Aheg." Garion answered the Cherek timidly. "A few scuffles, but those things are common."
"Indeed they are," Aheg agreed. "I had a couple of those myself, unfortunately, I wasn't able to get involved with them personally. A good fight so hard to find, now that the Angaraks are on OUR side. They always gave me something to do…" That was when he turned to the corner of the room where Zakath, Urgit, Dorsta and Gethell were seated. "No offense to you four of course."
"None taken, my friend, none taken." King Urgit of the Murgos replied, his nose twitching slightly. Gaion had met Urgit on his travels, the man was unlike any other he had ever met, save Prince Kheldar of Drasnia. Of course, it made sense that the two were alike, they were brothers after all.
"I could almost agree with you on that, however." Zakath added pleasantly. Previously King of the Malloreans, he was now better known as the Overlord of the Angaraks. However, Garion had left some mark on him after their travels together, so he let the other kings keep there positions. The nation of Angarak, after all, was a very numerous nation. "At least when we were at war with the Murgos, I could want to get Urgit's head mounted somewhere on my wall. Of course times have changed, and I have met a few people."
"Methinks thine wife hast changed thee, Zakath." King Krodullin of the Arends said affirmatively. Being a Mimbrate Arend by racial backgrounds, he always spoke in high-style, which was a language that consisted of mainly "thees", "thous", and "foreasmuchs". Garion found it to be a trifle overdone, but his Arendish friends certainly didn't have a problem with it.
"She probably has, but that is one of the prices we have to pay, isn't it?" Zakath asked with a short laugh.
"I think they think it is their job, my friend." Garion agreed. "Ce'Nedra won't let me leave the room in the morning if I haven't combed my hair to her exact pleasure, or haven't worn the clothes that she had picked out for me in her mind."
"There are some good things about marriage, Garion." Varana objected. Varana was Garion's brother in law, and emperor of the Tolnedran Empire.
"I never said they weren't, I just said that they come at a price."
"I assume you will want me to defend my kinswomen?" Porenn asked slyly, a smile creeping up to her face. Porenn was Queen of the Drasnian, a race of spys and cheats. She, however, was absolutely brilliant, and she could usually out-debate any one of the men in the room. The only one she had some trouble fighting with was Urgit, but that was to be expected.
"No need, Porenn. Plus, I don't think you would have much of a basis to stand on. We could just denounce you as 'one of them' and leave it at that." Urgit said with a grin which spread across his face from ear to ear.
"Men!" Porenn exclaimed.
Drosta of the Nadraks and Nathall, King of Thulls, sat in the corner, talking amoungst themselves about some trade contract they were trying to write up. There were little whines coming from the Thull, although none of the other monarchs bothered to ask what was wrong. Whines were to be expected from a Thull.
"I do believe that we have all forgotten the reaosn we have attended this coucil today, my friends." King Fulrach of Sendaria began. The Sendars were a practical people, and Fulrach did show his heritage in each meeting. Besides Durnik the smith, now Disciple of Aldur, Fulrach was the most practical person Garion knew of. "We need to discuss the matters of affair in Maragor, set up a school for Relg and Taiba's children, and the like."
"I don't think that will be nessacary." Relg answered. "I am sure Taiba and I will be able to handle it." Relg was an Ulgo that Garion had known ever since his quest for the Orb had merely begun. He had been a zealot, someone completely devoted to his god, until Taiba had come and changed his life. Now he looked out after his wife and children, as they rebuilt the people of Mara, called the Marags.
"No, Relg" Aheg bellowed. "We insist that allow us to offer you our assitance! You are our friend, of course."
"The first thing you will probably want to do.." Sadi, Chief Eunich of the Palace of Nyissa continued, "Is figure out some type of government that does not include the poisioning and killing of other members of the government."
Relg looked shocked.
"It happens sometimes, Relg. It is always good to be prepared."
Later that day, Garion found himself in his guest room, amists the wailing of his two children, and of course, the screaming of his wife, Ce'Nedra. The argument this time was whether his eldest son, the heir to the Rivan Throne, Geran, was going to rest in the same bed as his his sister, Beldaran, that particular evening. Both the prince and princess were protesting to that particular idea, until his wife concluded the conversation by raising the pitch of her voice several octaves. The argument immediately stopped after that.
"Must they always argue as so?" The young wolf who stayed with them asked of Garion, in the manner of the wolves.
"One thinks that one's mate and one's pups enjoy such things." Garion answered back solemly .
"One finds the man-things quite strange." The wolf said to Garion, licking his nose with his long tongue.
"One must agree."
"Garion!" Ce'Nedra beckoned her husband, "Can you make the beds? Beldaran needs to be bathed, and Geran is going out to play with his friends."
Garion sighed slightly, and he responded with a nod. Quickly, his wife and two children departed, leaving the Rivan King in the room alone, to stop and think for a while. It seemed that there was nothing for him to do, except study the weather. His grandfather had told him explicitly not to play with weather unless he had two thousand years of knowledge and study. That had happened after he set up a giant thunderstorm over a battlefield in Arendia, effectively stopping the armys which were on the verge of war, which was not all that uncommon in Arendia.
That brought him to another question. Would he really live through the millenia, as an immortal, unless someone came to kill him? It was possible that the only reason Belgarath and the others were kept alive was because they had to, in order to fulfill the wishes of the prophecy. It was then entirely possible that he would wither away and fade, just like everyone other man in existance. However, when he last spoke to the voice of the prophecy, which was a couple of days or so after the Choice of Cyrandis, former Seeress of Kell, it, or was it he, told him to expect a lot of children. Also, there were Gromlin priests whom he was positive were not essential in the broad scheme of things that were kept alive through the ages due to their knowledge in sorcery, so Garion could really not be all too sure.
Just then, his now sudded wife ran back into the room to fetch a towel. However, she stopped in the middle and looked crossly over to Garion.
"Garion.." She said quietly, "Didn't I ask you to make the beds."
Garion was slightly startled by his wife's sudden accusation. Of course, it was completely legitamate and he had no excuse to give her. "Yes dear."
"Then why isn't it made yet?"
"I didn't get around to it just yet, dear. It has only been seven minutes anyhow, I don't see your prob-"
"Garion" She said, cutting him off in the middle of his sentence. "I don't care why you didn't do it, just do it." She then flung a towel over her shoulder, and proceeded into the bathroom, where he could hear his daughter squealing in delight, and most probably slashing water over everything and anything that was in her sights.
Of course, his wife was probably expecting him to get on his knees, and carefully arrange the bed according to the style of the Rivan household. She was expecting him to delicately fold the covers over the pillows himself, only after getting the pillows from the closet and fluffing them.
Of course, Garion was NOT going to do anything of the sort. He was not going to get down the pillows, he was not going to fluff them, and he was not going to fold the covers over the pillows in a delicate manner. Instead, he quickly gathered his Will, forming the image of how the bed should look in his mind. He then brought his hand down slightly, as he forced his Will upon the bed. His grandfather always got upset with him and his aunt using a gesture while in the midsts of sorcery, as it was really unneeded to perform the act. However, just like his grandfather always stressed, Garion did it for a certain style, or finesse.
"Make yourself." He commanded, as the pillows and covers quickly folded into their exact locations all too easily. He did it just in time, also, as right after the bed was made, his wife walked back in, followed by Beldaran, who was clad in a robe of sorts.
Ce'Nedra looked around the room critically, as if she was trying to find something wrong with it. Garion thought she had spent too much time with Polgara, and it already rubbed off on her. Why must women all look for the negatives in a situation?
Finally, when it appeared that she was satified, she gave Garion a quick smile, and began to dress Beldaran in a nice dress. Garion watched happily as his daughter played with his wife's crown while Ce'Nedra concentrated on tying her daughter's shoelaces correctly. She then let Beldaran loose, watching as the little girl ran from the room and towards the one of her friends, squealing in laughter.
Ce'Nedra then rose up, walking briskly to Garion. She lifted herself on her tip-toes and planted a sweet kiss upon the lips of her husband. She then detached herself, and smiled up at Garion.
"It's nice that you won't have any more reasons to run off anymore. It will allow us to spend some more time together…"
Garion coughed uncomfortably.
"We'll have to find something for the children to do however," Ce'Nedra laughed wickedly. "I wouldn't want them here when we spend our time together."
Slowly, Garion's ears turned a bright red.
"Would you like to hear what I think we should do?"
Mutely and quickly, Garion shook his head to reply, but Ce'Nedra told him, anyway.
Garion then promptly fled.
Prince Geran wandered around the halls aimlessly. He and his friends had decided, based on the size of the castle, that the best game for today would be hide and seek. The only problem was, that there were so many hiding spots amoung the castle, Geran was not sure which one would be the best one. He passed from coridor to coridor, and none truly matched his expectations for the perfect hiding spot. That is, until, he found a niche in the wall, which could be covered by a drape from the outside. Nimbly, he crawled into that concealed space, and drew the curtain infront of it. There he sat for several minutes, his knees tucked into his chest, keeping as quiet as possible.
Finally, he began to hear footsteps from the outside. They seemed to be coming nearer and nearer, until they finally stopped right infront of the curtain. Geran held his breath for a second, wondering how they could have found him already, but the man out there did not draw the curtain from the "door" that concealed his hiding spot. Rather, that man seemed to be speaking to another man, about what were obviously international issues.
"I don't like the way the meeting is going," said the first man. He had a deep scruffy voice, which seemed to rattle in the head of the seven year old boy. "The Alorns think they are running it all."
"I agree." The second man didn't have a scruffier voice, but it was more powerful, echoing through the halls of the palace. "But, what are we going to do about it? It is their meeting, and we were only invited."
"Keep your voice down!" snapped the first. It was obvious to Geran that they were talking about things which they didn't want any other people to know. "However, I don't believe a single word of the whole new god. Eriond is but a child! How can he be our god?"
"I say that it is an Alorn plot. Maybe that boy is just a sorceror, just like Ctuchik and Zedar were. He can do some strange things, but I would hardly call him a god! And where do you think he learned this magical nonsense? I heard rumors that he stayed in the Vale of Aldur, taken care of by Polgara the sorceress herself!" The second man obviously was upset with the idea of Eriond being his god. Geran wondered why. It wasn't as if, from what he had heard, that Torak was a nice god to begin with. At least Eriond was nicer.
"And brings us to another point," continued the second man. " Why would a god need to be taken care of anyway? It all very improbable, if you ask me."
"But what can we do? We are only nobles, while our kings are laughing along with the Alorn monarchs. We don't have any might, we can't go up against the entire army of the Angarak kings!"
"That is where you are wrong. I bet most of the armies think the way we do. And you read stories about Ce'Nedra before Thull Mardu. The Tolnedrans didn't care for the war in the first place, but she got them to do it. And if a runt like her can do it, surely two men like ourselves can!" That kind of talk got Geran upset. He knew that his mother was short, but he could never imagine someone calling her a runt! He gritted his teeth just thinking about it. Surely his father would make those two pay for calling her that. In his momentary anger, he banged his hand against the wall, making a soft thud. Then, realizing what he did, he pulled his hand back in a quick motion.
"Be quiet!" The first man snapped, as the creaking of his footsteps went through the floor. "I think I heard something."
"I didn't hear anything," bellowed the second man.
"That's because you are screaming, you fool! Come with me. I know a place in the castle where no one will be able to hear us."
Geran kept still, as he heard the footsteps of the two man start again, and then gradually decrease to a whisper. Finally, he heard a door slam shut, and let his body relax. As soon as possible, he would have to tell father about this, but not right now. He heard the sound of his friends voices calling out, to try and lure him from his hiding spot.
Later, Garion sat, listening intently to what his child was telling him.
"And then they said how they were going to do something!" Geran cried out to his father, flaling his arms. When Geran got upset, he made up half the entire conversation with his hand motions and the like.
"I don't know, Geran. Are you sure that is what you heard?" Garion asked skeptically. He leaned down to look his child full in the face.
"I didn't make it up, father!" Geran cried again. He then put his hands upon his father's shoulders, and shook them with all his might. "They really were talking about it."
Garion blinked, and finally sighed. He then sat up straight, looking down at his son. "Alright, I believe you, but this is serious. Are you sure that is exactly what they said? Did you add anything, or leave anything out?"
"No. No. No! That is exactly what they said." Geran exclaimed.
Garion then turned to the young wolf that stayed with them. Garion didn't quite understand why, but Wolf seemed to understand things better than the rest of them could. Maybe it had to do with how wolve's minds are more focused, and how they can think of the problems in a less frantic way than humans could.
"Well, what do you make of it, little brother?" Garion asked in the manner of the wolves.
"One believes that one's offspring is making a issue for a reason, revered sire." Wolf had picked up several words of man's tongue in his stay with Garion and his family. He was starting to address people by their rank in the human word, rather then their rank in a wolf's pack. "One knows him well, and he has never been as frantic to tell you something as now, or so one remembers."
"One will listen to your words, little brother." Garion concluded that Wolf was right. His son never made such big issues about things nowadays. "Come on, Geran," he told his son, once again speaking in human tongue, "We are going to go tell Belgarath about this. I don't think this is something to be taken lightly."
Belgarath was in the dining hall, sipping on some fine wine, when Garion approached him. Belgarath, it seemed, had decided that now it was time to lay back and relax. Poledra, however, sat there disapprovingly. Garion's grandmother had never been fond of the smell of alchohol, which was the reason that his grandfather was drinking such aromatic wine. Belgarath, however, didn't seem to mind at all.
"Hello Garion, what brings you over here?" Belgarath said, putting his glass down upon the table. "And you brought Geran also? Why didn't you bring Ce'Nedra and Beldaran along with you as well"
"Grandfather, Geran told me that he heard some people plotting in the back halls." Garion began, hoping his grandfather would take him seriously.
"So? Whats wrong with that?" Belgarath interceded. "Many people plot against the royalty. It seems to fulfill some of their goals in life." He then picked up his glass, to take another sip of that fine wine.
"I wish you wouldn't drink so much of that, dear." Poledra said softly, placing his hand upon his husband's arm. "It leaves an odor in your mouth that disturbs me at night."
"Which is why, dear, I took some from this fine wine over there. This wine will not disturb your sleep at night."
"Grandfather!" Garion said urgently. He really did not like to disrupt his grandfather's conversations with his grandmother, he knew how much he had suffered, or perhaps he would never know. However, this was urget. "That is just it! It wasn't the kings they were plotting against!"
"Oh really?" Belgarath said, as he lifted the glass up to his lips. "I don't see anyone else they could possibly plot against, but why are you upset? It isn't against you, is it?"
"No," Garion began, becoming slightly unsure of how Belgarath would take it. "They were sort of, uh, plotting against Eriond."
That is when Garion finally knew for sure that the carpet, and the fine red wine that Belgarath was drinking, matched in color almost perfectly.
"You can't be serious, Garion," Poledra began in his husband's stead. Belgarath was busy stuttering over some choice curses that he kept for just such an occasion. "Why would someone plot against a god? Especially their god."
"According to Geran, they said that Eriond wasn't a god at all. Only someone that Aunt Pol brought up as a sorceror, who we could put as their god, to get them under our control."
"Is that true, Geran?" Garion's tawny haired grandmother asked, as she turned to Geran, her great grandson.
"Yes great-grandmother. I heard them while I was hiding behind a curtain in the halls." Geran answered proudly. Garion noticed that it wasn't all that much that Geran got to be the center of attention, well after he was kidnapped by Zandramas, of course.
It was about then that Belgarath regained his composure, and walked back to the others. "This is a serious manner. I think I will have to talk to the monarchs immediately. We cannot wait to long, for this to get out of hand."
"I'll go bring them to the main hall, where we can.." Garion began, but he was cut off by a gesture from Belgarath.
"We cannot show the plotters that we are on to them, Garion." He said, explaining the situation. "We will have to meet in some visiting monarch's throne room, preferably an unused one. This will have to be kept in complete secrecy." The old sorceror then turned to Geran, looking down upon his great-grandson. "Will you be able to keep this a secret? You won't be able to tell any of your friends about it, no one."
Geran straighted his body up, and tried to make himself look more important, Garion noticed. "I won't tell anyone, great-grandfather. You can count on me!"
Belgarath smiled slightly to his great-grandson, and then turned back to Garion. "You go and round up the Alorn monarchs, I'll round up the others. Take them to the Thull throneroom. No one would think any intelligent conversation could go on there. I don't think there are even places for spies to watch us." He then turned to his wife, and it seemed that someone unsaid passed between them. Poledra nodded, and took Geran back towards the royal suites.
Belgarath then turned back to his grandson, his face suddenly completely solemn. "Come on, Garion. We have a long night ahead of us"
The monarchs settled in noisily, clasping each other on the backs, and laughing at their own jokes. Everyone seemed to be in a blissful mood, due to the impending peace which they saw. It took a while for Belgarath to calm them down.
"My friends," He began, as he looked over all the monarchs present. No one had been left out, from Anheg to Nathel, everyone had come. "We have a problem of the upmost seriousness on our hands. First of all, if any of you have spies, you must send them away immediately." He glanced seriously over to Porenn, the Drasnian representitive. "And I mean it. No one can know what information passes through here today."
The other monarchs looked befuddled, but Porenn made some sharp finger gestures, and the quiet sounds of people leaving their posts reluctantly could be heard around the room. She then nodded to Belgarath.
"Alright, Belgarath." Varana began, always the first to make these types of statements. It had to do with the Tolnedran race's disregard for anything supernatural. "What is the meaning of all of this? Why did you call us to a meeting in a side room, rather than the main one?"
Cho-Hag lifted his hand up towards the Tolnedran monarch, silencing him with a short gesture. "I am sure that Holy Belgarath has a reason of upmost importance, if he took all this time to make sure we conduct a meeting on it in absolute secrecy."
Belgarath nodded to Cho-Hag , and then raised his voice slightly, so it had an overpowering attributes. "It has come to my attention that people are plotting against the acceptance of the new God of Angarak, Eriond."
There was a stunned silence that filled the room, followed by outraged conversations between monarchs. Absolute anarchy developed the room, that is, until Belgarath had decided that he had become tired of it.
"Enough!" He snapped. Once again, there was complete silence in the room. When the Ancient man told you to do something, you almost always did it. "We are not going to get anywhere by yelling at each other. Let us resolve this like men, and in a more quiet manner!"
"Do we know who these plotters are?" Anheg asked from his seat towards the middle.
"The only thing we know, as of now, is that they are Angaraks." Belgarath answered.
"Outragous!" Drosta exclaimed, slamming his hand down upon a circular table which was in the center of the room. "Why would Angaraks want to plot against their own god! Isn't the loss of one god enough for them? Or do they want to do their best to loose a second! It doesn't make any sense for them to be Angaraks."
"It was implied in the conversation." Belgarath explained to the mortified monarch. "Garion can tell you everything that happened. His son was the one that heard the whole conversation. Garion…"
Garion slowly stood up infront of his fellow kings, and drew in a breath noisily. "My son, Geran, was playing a game with his friends which had him hiding in a certain area in the halls of the palace. From that place, he heard two men talking about how outraged they are in the Angarak monarchs accepting Eriond as their new god. Geran said that the tone of voice implied some type of action, which I presume to be military."
"But," Zakath began, looking Garion full in the face, "Why would they think such a thing? Are you sure that your son can be trusted? Did he embellish it at all?"
Garion was about to answer that, his temper rising slowly, but Belgarath was too quick for him. "I do not believe that my great-grandson was embellishing the facts a single bit. I do believe, gentlemen, that we have to discuss the dispersion of this rebellion as quick as possible."
"You know, it does make some sense." Urgit said, his nose twitching slightly as he talked. "We Angaraks have always been stubborn little creatures, and I don't think many of will be able to handle the idea of having a new god coming from an Alorn upbringing. It is the sort of thing that would sort of get on our nerves."
Nathel, who was usually quiet, began to state his agreement with Urgit. "Mother says that Alorns bring their children up in a vile fashion. I don't believe her, but that is what she seriously thinks. And I am not going to correct her, because I don't want her to think I am a bad boy…"
Zakath rolled his eyes slightly. That is when King Fulrach of Sendaria began to speak. "My friends, I do believe that a military course of action is not only going to have to be taken, but also an intellgence one. Porenn, do you think that your spies would be able to find out the indentities of those plotters?"
"Well, the only spy that could, that I can think of, at least, is Silk." Porenn said, thinking over the idea outloud. "However, Silk went off to do buisness…somewhere in Algaria! If I am right, he should be heading here right now!"
"Alright then, this meeting is over, gentlemen." Belgarath said in that tone of finality. "Get some sleep, because we are going to have some nice long meetings tommorow."
Belgarath then took Poledra by the arm, and slowly exited.