Guardians of the West

sometimes get pretty obscure."
    "I've noticed that," Garion said. "And as long as the subject has come up, what's your real reason for coming to Riva?"
    "It's nothing all that secret, Garion," Silk replied urbanely , adjusting the cuffs of his gray doublet. "I realized a few years ago that a traveling merchant tends to lose track of things. If you want to stay on top of a local situation, you need to have an agent on the scene -somebody who can take advantage of opportunities when they arise. I've located some markets for certain Rivan products- glass, good boots, those wool capes, that sort of thing- and I decided that it might not be a bad idea to have a representative here."
    "That's really a very good idea, Silk. Things are a little static down in the city. We could use some new businesses to liven things up."
    Silk beamed at him.
    "And I can always use the additional revenue," Garion added.
    "What?"
    "There are a few taxes, Silk -nothing too burdensome, but I'm sure you understand. A kingdom is very expensive to run."
    "Garion!" Silk's voice was anguished.
    "It's one of the first things I learned. People don't mind taxes so much if they're sure that everybody's paying the same. I can't really make exceptions at all -not even for an old friend. I'll introduce you to Kail. He's my chief administrator. He'll set things up for you."
    "I'm terribly disappointed in you, Garion," Silk said with a crestfallen look.
    "As you've said so many times, business is business, after all."
    There was a light tap on the door.
    "Yes?" Garion answered.
    "The Rivan Warder, your Majesty," the sentry outside announced.
    "Send him in."
    The tall, graying Rivan Warder entered quietly. "Prince Kheldar," he greeted Silk with a brief nod, then turned to Garion. "I wouldn't bother you, your Majesty." he apologized, "but a matter of some urgency has come up."
    "Of course, Brand," Garion replied politely. "Sit down."
    "Thank you, Belgarion," Brand said gratefully, sinking into a chair. "My legs aren't what they used to be."
    "Isn't it a joy to grow older?" Silk said. "The mind gets better, but everything else starts to fall apart."
    Brand smiled briefly. "There's been a bit of a squabble in the garrison here in the Citadel, Belgarion," he said, getting directly to the point. "I'll discipline the two young men involved myself, but I thought that perhaps if you spoke to them, it might head off bloodshed."
    "Bloodshed?"
    "They were bickering over something quite unimportant, and one thing led to another. They scuffled a bit and knocked a few of each other's teeth loose. That should have been the end of it, but they started issuing each other formal challenges. I was fairly sure that you would want to keep the swords out of it."
    "Definitely."
    "I can order them to withdraw the challenges, but there's always the possibility that they'll sneak out some night and find a private place to do war on each other. I think that if the king spoke with them, we might be able to head off that sort of foolishness. They're a couple of fairly good young men, and I don't think we want to have them chop each other into dog meat."
    Garion nodded his agreement. "Send the pair of them to me first thing in the- "
    The medallion he always wore gave a peculiar little twitch, and he broke off what he was saying, startled by the flutter against his chest. The amulet suddenly seemed to grow very hot, and there was a strange humming sound in his ears.
    "What is it, Garion?" Silk asked him curiously.
    Garion started to hold up one hand as he tried to pinpoint the source of the humming sound. Then his amulet gave a violent lurch that was almost like a blow to his chest. The humming shattered, and he heard Ce'Nedra's voice crying to him. "Garion! Help me!"
    He sprang to his feet as Brand and Silk stared at him in amazement. "Ce'Nedra?" he shouted. "Where are you?"
    "Help me, Garion! The baths!"
    "Quick!" Garion exclaimed to the others. "Ce'Nedra needs us -in the baths!" and he ran from the room, grabbing up a plain sword standing sheathed in the corner as he passed.
    "What is it?" Silk demanded, running along behind as they burst into the outer corridor.
    "I don't know," Garion shouted. "She called me for help." He shook his sword as he ran, trying to free it of its sheath. "Something's happening down in the baths."
    It was a long way down seemingly endless flights of torchlit stairs to the baths in the cellars of the Citadel. Garion went down those stairs three and four at a