Castle of Wizardry

Belgarion to the status of Emperor of all the West - Aloria, Sendaria, Arendia, Tolnedra - even Nyissa."
    "That's not how the term was meant to be interpreted," Aunt Pol objected.
    "I know," Islena replied, "but Grodeg wants to twist it until it comes out that way. He's a total fanatic, and he wants to convert all the people of the West to Helar - by the sword, if necessary."
    "That idiot!" Aunt Pol raged. "He'd start a general war in the West if he tried that - and even set the Gods to wrangling. What is there about Alorns that makes them continually want to expand to the south? Those boundaries were established by the Gods themselves. I think it's time for someone to put his foot down on Grodeg's neck firmly. Go to Anheg immediately. Tell him everything and then tell him that I want to see him. I imagine that my father's going to want to discuss the matter with him as well."
    "Anheg's going to be furious with me, Polgara," Islena faltered.
    "I don't think so," Aunt Pol assured her. "As soon as he realizes that you've exposed Grodeg's plan, he'll probably be rather grateful. Let him think that you went along with Grodeg simply to get more information. That's a perfectly respectable motive - and it's the sort of thing a good wife would do."
    "I hadn't thought of that," Islena said, already sounding more sure of herself. "It would have been a brave thing to do, wouldn't it?"
    "Absolutely heroic, Islena," Aunt Pol replied. "Now go to Anheg."
    "I will, Polgara." There was the sound of quick, determined steps, and then a door closed.
    "Garion, come back in here." Aunt Pol's voice was firm. He opened the door.
    "You were listening?" It wasn't really a question.
    "Well-"
    "We're going to have to have a talk about that," she told him. "But it doesn't really matter this time. Go find your grandfather and tell him that I want to see him immediately. I don't care what he's doing. Bring him to me now."
    "But how do we know he can do anything?" Garion demanded. "I mean, if he's lost his power-"
    "There are many kinds of power, Garion. Sorcery is only one of them. Now go fetch him at once."
    "Yes, Aunt Pol," Garion replied, already moving toward the door.

Chapter Sixteen
    THE HIGH PRIEST of Belar was an imposing-looking man nearly seven feet tall. He had a long gray beard and burning eyes sunk deep in their sockets beneath bristling black eyebrows. He arrived from Val Alorn the following week after the seemingly endless negotiations had finally produced the official betrothal document. Accompanying him as a kind of retinue were two dozen hard-faced warriors dressed in bearskins.
    "Bear-cultists," Barak observed sourly to Garion and Silk as the three of them stood atop the wall of the Citadel, watching the High Priest and his men mounting the steps from the harbor in the bright spring sunshine.
    "I didn't say anything about bringing soldiers with him," Garion objected indignantly.
    "I imagine he took it upon himself," Silk replied. "Grodeg's very good at taking things upon himself."
    "I wonder how he'd like it if I threw him into a dungeon," Garion said hotly. "Do I have a dungeon?"
    "We could improvise one, I suppose." Barak grinned at him. "Some nice damp cellar someplace. You might have to import some rats, though. The island's reputed to be free of them."
    "You're making fun of me," Garion accused his friend, flushing slightly.
    "Now you know I wouldn't do that, Garion," Barak replied, pulling at his beard.
    "I'd talk with Belgarath before I had Grodeg clapped in irons, though," Silk suggested. "The political implications might go a bit further than you intend. Whatever you do, don't let Grodeg talk you into letting him leave any of his men behind. He's been trying to get a foothold on the Isle of the Winds for twenty years now. Not even Brand has had the nerve to let him go that far."
    "Brand?"
    "Isn't it obvious? I wouldn't want to say that Brand's a cult member, but his sympathies certainly lie in that direction."
    Garion was shocked at that, and a little sick. "What do you think I ought to do?" he asked.
    "Don't try to play politics with these people," Barak replied. "Grodeg's here to conduct the official betrothal ceremony. Just let it go at that."
    "He'll try to talk to me, though," Garion fretted. "He's going to try to make me lead an invasion of the southern kingdoms so that he can convert the Arends and Tolnedrans and Nyissans to the worship of Belar."
    "Where did you hear that?" Silk asked curiously.
    "I'd rather