Demon Lord of Karanda

now, and his weaving and trembling had become so severe that he was unable to control his limbs.
    "I'm not going to be tricked by a clever old man into-" He suddenly started up from his chair with an animal-like cry, clutching at the sides of his head. Then he toppled forward to the floor, twitching and jerking.
    Belgarath jumped forward and took hold of the convulsing man's arms. "Quick!" he snapped. "Get something between his teeth before he bites off his tongue!"
    Brador grabbed up a sheaf of reports from a nearby table, wadded them up, and jammed them into the frothing Emperor's mouth.
    "Garion!" Belgarath barked. "Get Pol -fast!"
    Garion started toward the door at a run.
    "Wait!" Belgarath said, sniffing suspiciously at the air above the face of the man he was holding down. "Bring Sadi, too. There's a peculiar smell here. Hurry!"
    Garion bolted. He ran through the hallways past startled officials and servants and finally burst into the room where Polgara was quietly talking with Ce'Nedra and Velvet. "Aunt Pol!" he shouted, "Come quickly! Zakath just collapsed!" Then he spun, ran a few more steps down the hall, and shouldered open the door to Sadi's room. "We need you," he barked at the startled eunuch. "Come with me."
    It took only a few moments for the three of them to return to the polished door in the anteroom.
    "What's going on?" the Angarak colonel demanded in a frightened voice, barring their way.
    "Your Emperor is sick," Garion told him. "Get out of the way." Roughly he pushed the protesting officer to one side and yanked the door open.
    Zakath's convulsions had at least partially subsided, but Belgarath still held him down.
    "What is it, father" Polgara asked, kneeling beside the stricken man.
    "He threw a fit."
    "The falling sickness?"
    "I don't think so. It wasn't quite the same. Sadi, come over here and smell his breath. I'm getting a peculiar odor from him."
    Sadi approached cautiously, leaned forward, and sniffed several times. Then he straightened, his face pale.
    "Thalot," he announced.
    "A poison?" Polgara asked him.
    Sadi nodded. "It's quite rare."
    "Do you have an antidote?"
    "No, my lady," he replied. "There isn't an antidote for thalot. It's always been universally fatal. It's seldom used because it acts very slowly, but no one ever recovers from it."
    "Then he's dying?" Garion asked with a sick feeling.
    "In a manner of speaking, yes. The convulsions will subside, but they'll recur with increasing frequency. Finally . . ." Sadi shrugged. . .
    "There's no hope at all?" Polgara asked.
    "None whatsoever, my lady. About all we can do is make his last few days more comfortable."
    Belgarath started to swear. "Quiet him down, Pol," he said. "We need to get him into bed and we can't move him while he's jerking around that way."
    She nodded and put one hand on Zakath's forehead.
    Garion felt the faint surge, and the struggling Emperor grew quiet.
    Brador, his face very pale, looked at them. "I don't think we should announce this just yet," he cautioned. "Let's just call it a slight illness for the moment until we can decide what to do. I'll send for a litter."
    The room to which the unconscious Zakath was taken was plain to the point of severity. The Emperor's bed was a narrow cot. The only other furniture was a single plain chair and a low chest. The walls were white and unadorned, and a charcoal brazier glowed in one corner.
    Sadi went back to their chambers and returned with his red case and the canvas sack in which Polgara kept her collection of herbs and remedies: The two of them consulted in low tones while Garion and Brador pushed the litter bearers and curious soldiers from the room. Then they mixed a steaming cup of a pungent-smelling liquid.
    Sadi raised Zakath's head and held it while Polgara spooned the medicine into his slack-lipped mouth.
    The door opened quietly, and the green-robed Dalasian healer, Andel, entered. "I came as soon as I heard," she said. "Is the Emperor's illness serious?"
    Polgara looked at her gravely. "Close the door, Andel," she said quietly.
    The healer gave her a strange look, then pushed the door shut. "Is it that grave, my lady?"
    Polgara nodded. "He's been poisoned," she said. "We don't want word of it to get out just yet."
    Andel gasped. "What can I do to help?" she asked, coming quickly to the bed.
    "Not very much, I'm afraid," Sadi told her.
    "Have you given him the antidote yet?"
    "There is no antidote."
    "There must be. Lady Polgara-"
    Polgara sadly shook