Guardians of the West

to explain everything as soon as he arrives."
    "Did any of the assassins survive?" Javelin asked.
    "One," Garion told him, "but I'm afraid that he won't be much help to us. One of Brand's sons bashed in his head. It doesn't appear that he's ever going to wake up."
    "Pity," Javelin murmured briefly, "but a man doesn't always have to be able to talk in order to provide information."
    "I hope you're right," Garion said fervently.
    The discussions at supper and later that evening were subdued. Though no one stated it openly, they were all reluctant to speak of the bleak possibility which faced them. To raise that question without Anheg's being present might have solidified the doubts and suspicions and given the entire meeting a tone none of them were willing to assume.
    "When is Brand's funeral to be held?" Porenn asked quietly.
    "As soon as Anheg arrives, I guess," Garion replied.
    "Have you made any decisions concerning his office?" Fulrach asked.
    "I don't quite follow you."
    "The position of Warder originated a long time ago in order to fill the vacuum that existed after the Nyissans murdered King Gorek and his family. Now that you occupy the throne, do you really need a Warder?"
    "To be honest with you, I hadn't really thought about it. Brand's always been here. He seemed as permanent as the stones of the Citadel itself."
    "Who's been doing his work since he was killed, your Majesty?" the silvery haired old Earl of Seline asked.
    "His second son, Kail."
    "You have many other responsibilities, Belgarion," the Earl pointed out. "You really do need someone here to manage the day-to-day details -at least until the present crisis has passed. I don't think, however, that any final decision about the post of Warder needs to be made just now. I'm sure that if you asked him, Kail would continue to perform his father's duties without a formal appointment."
    "He's right, Garion," Ce'Nedra said. "Kail's absolutely devoted to you. He'll do anything you ask him to do."
    "If this young man is doing an adequate job, it's probably best to let him continue," Seline suggested. Then he smiled briefly. "There's an old Sendarian adage that says, 'If it isn't broken, don't try to fix it.' "
    The following morning an ungainly-looking ship with elaborate structures fore and aft wallowed into the harbor under an obviously top-heavy spread of sail. Garion, who stood atop the battlements of the Citadel talking quietly with Javelin, frowned as he looked down at it. "What kind of ship is that?" he asked. "I don't recognize the construction."
    "It's Arendish, your Majesty. They feel the need to make everything look like a castle."
    "I didn't know that the Arends even had any ships."
    "They don't have very many," Javelin replied. "Their vessels have a tendency to capsize whenever they encounter a stiff breeze."
    "I guess we'd better go down and see who it is."
    "Right," Javelin agreed.
    The passengers aboard the clumsy Arendish vessel proved to be old friends. Mandorallen, the mighty Baron of Vo Mandor, stood at the rail, gleaming in full armor. At his side stood Lelldorin of Wildantor, and with them were their wives, Nerina and Ariana, both ornately gowned in dark, rich brocades.
    "We came instantly upon our receipt of the news of thy tragedy, Garion," Mandorallen shouted across the intervening water as the Arendish crew laboriously maneuvered their awkward ship toward the quay upon which Garion and Javelin waited. "Duty and affection, both for thee and they foully murdered Warder, impel us to aid thee in thy rightful search for vengeance. Korodullin himself would have joined us but for an illness which hath laid him low."
    "I suppose I should have expected this," Garion murmured.
    "Are they likely to complicate matters?" Javelin asked quietly.
    Garion shuddered. "You have no idea."
    It was not until two days later that the Seabird, with Barak at the tiller, rounded the headland and sailed into the harbor. The rails were lined with burly Cherek warriors in chainmail shirts. Their faces were alert, and their eyes were wary as Barak steered his ship up to the quay.
    When Garion reached the foot of the long flight of stone steps leading down from the Citadel, a sizable crowd had gathered. The mood of that crowd was ugly, and most of the men who stood there with grim faces had weapons at their sides.
    "It looks as if we've got a situation on our hands here," Garion said quietly to Kail, who had accompanied him. "I think we'd better try to put the