Guardians of the West

mountains of Ulgo. He was thickly wrapped in rich sable fur, but his long, pointed nose protruded from the warm interior of his deep cowl and immediately identified him.
    "Silk!" Durnik exclaimed as the little Drasnian dismounted in the snowy dooryard. "What are you doing all the way down here?"
    "Freezing, actually." Silk replied. "I hope you've got a good fire going."
    "Pol, look who's here," Durnik called, and Polgara opened the door to look out at their visitor.
    "Well, Prince Kheldar," she said, smiling at the rat-faced little man, "have you so completely plundered Gar og Nadrak that you've come in search of a new theater for your depredations?"
    "No," Silk told her, stamping his half-frozen feet on the ground. "I made the mistake of passing through Boktor on my way to Val Alorn. Porenn dragooned me into making a side trip."
    "Go inside," Durnik told him. "I'll tend to your horse."
    After Silk had removed his sable cloak, he stood shivering in front of the arched fireplace with his hands extended toward the flames. "I've been cold for the last week," he grumbled. "Where's Belgarath?"
    "He and Beldin are off in the East somewhere," Polgara replied, mixing the half-frozen man a cup of spiced wine to help warm him.
    "No matter, I suppose. Actually I came to see you. You've heard that my uncle isn't well?"
    She nodded, picking up a glowing-hot poker and plunging it into the wine with a bubbling hiss. "Hettar brought us some news about that last fall. Have his physicians put a name to his illness yet?"
    "Old age." Silk shrugged, gratefully taking the cup from her.
    "Rhodar isn't really that old."
    "He's carrying a lot of extra weight. That tires a man out after a while. Porenn is desperate. She sent me to ask you -no, to beg you- to come to Boktor and see what you can do. She says to tell you that Rhodar won't see the geese come north if you don't come."
    "Is it really that bad?"
    "I'm not a physician," Silk replied, "but he doesn't look very good, and his mind seems to be slipping. He's even starting to lose his appetite, and that's a bad sign in a man who always ate seven big meals a day."
    "Of course we'll come," Polgara said quickly.
    "Just let me get warm first," Silk said in a plaintive tone.
    They were delayed for several days just south of Aldurford by a savage blizzard that swept out of the mountains of Sendaria to howl across the open plains of northern Algaria. As luck had it, they reached the encampment of a nomadic band of roving herdsmen just as the storm broke and sat out the days of shrieking wind and driving snow in the comfortable wagons of the hospitable Algars. When the weather cleared at last, they pressed on to Aldurford, crossed the river, and reached the broad causeway that stretched across the snowchoked fens to Boktor.
    Queen Porenn, still lovely despite the dark circles under her eyes that spoke so eloquently of her sleepless concern, greeted them at the gates of King Rhodar's palace. "Oh, Polgara," she said, overwhelmed with gratitude and relief as she embraced the sorceress.
    "Dear Porenn," Polgara said, enfolding the careworn little Drasnian queen in her arms. "We'd have been here sooner, but we encountered bad weather. How's Rhodar?"
    "A little weaker every day," Porenn replied with a kind of hopelessness in her voice. "Even Kheva tires him now."
    "Your son?"
    Porenn nodded. "The next king of Drasnia. He's only six -much too young to ascend the throne."
    "Well, let's see what we can do to delay that."
    King Rhodar, however, looked even worse than Silk's assessment of his condition had led them to believe. Errand remembered the King of Drasnia as a fat, jolly man with a quick wit and seemingly inexhaustible energy. Now he was listless, and his gray-hued skin hung on him in folds. He could not rise; perhaps even more serious was the fact that he could not lie down without his breath coming in painful, choking gasps. His voice, which had once been powerful enough to wake a sleeping army, had become a puny, querulous wheeze. He smiled a tired little smile of greeting when they entered, but after only a few minutes of conversation, he dozed off again.
    "I think I need to be alone with him," Polgara told the rest of them in a crisp, efficient voice, but the quick look she exchanged with Silk carried little hope for the ailing monarch's recovery.
    When she emerged from Rhodar's room, her expression was grave.
    "Well?" Porenn asked, her eyes fearful.
    "I'll speak frankly," Polgara said. "We've