King of The Murgos

tankard and gulped it down noisily. Then he shuddered, and his face went deathly pale. His expression was one of sheer horror, and he began to shake violently. "That's terrible!" he gasped.
    Silk watched him closely for a moment, then took the other tankard and carefully dumped it out over the side.
    "Aren't you going to drink yours?" Urgit asked accusingly.
    "I don't think so. Polgara has a peculiar sense of humor sometimes. I'd rather not take any chances—until I see how many fish come floating to the top."
    "How are you feeling this morning, your Majesty?" Prala asked the suffering Urgit with a feigned look of sympathy on her face.
    "I'm sick."
    "It's your own fault, you know."
    "Please don't."
    She smiled sweetly at him.
    "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he accused.
    "Why, yes, your Majesty," she replied with a little toss of her head, "As a matter of fact, I am." Then she took the two tankards and went back along the rail toward the stern.
    "Are they all like that?" Urgit asked miserably. "So cruel?"
    "Women?" Belgarath shrugged. "Of course. It's in their blood."
    Somewhat later that gloomy morning, after Silk and Belgarath had returned aft to seek refuge from the weather in one of the cabins and also, Garion suspected, for a touch of something to ward off the chill, Urgit sat miserably on a rain-wet bench with his head in his hands while Garion moodily paced the deck not far away. "Belgarion," the Murgo King said plaintively, "do you have to stamp your feet so hard?"
    Garion gave him a quick, amused smile. "Silk really should have warned you about this," he said.
    "Why do people call him Silk?"
    "It's a nickname he picked up from his colleagues in Drasnian Intelligence."
    "Why would a member of the Drasnian royal family want to be a spy?"
    "It's their national industry."
    "Is he really any good at it?"
    "He's just about the best there is."
    Urgit's face had definitely grown green. "This is dreadful," he groaned. "I can't be sure if it's the drink or seasickness. I wonder if I'd feel better if I stuck my head in a bucket of water."
    "Only if you held it down long enough."
    "That's a thought." Urgit laid his head back on the rail to let the rain drizzle into his face. "Belgarion," he said finally, "what am I doing wrong?"
    "You drank a little too much."
    "That's not what I'm talking about. Where am I making my mistakes—as a king, I mean?"
    Garion looked at him. The little man was obviously sincere, and the sympathy for him which had welled up back in Rak Urga rose again. Garion finally admitted to himself that he liked this man. He drew in a deep breath and sat down beside the suffering Urgit. "You know part of it already," he said. "You let people bully you."
    "It's because I'm afraid, Belgarion. When I was a boy, I let them bully me because it kept them from killing me. I guess it just got to be a habit."
    "Everybody's afraid."
    "You aren't. You faced Torak at Cthol Mishrak, didn't you?"
    "It wasn't altogether my idea—and believe me, you can't even begin to guess how frightened I was when I was on my way there for that meeting."
    "You?"
    "Oh, yes. You're beginning to get some control over that problem, though. You handled that general—Kradak, wasn't it?—fairly well back at the Drojim. Just keep remembering that you're the king, and that you're the one who gives the orders."
    "I can try, I guess. What else am I doing wrong?"
    Garion thought about it. "You're trying to do it all yourself," he replied finally. "Nobody can do that. There are just too many details for one man to keep up with. You need help—good, honest help."
    "Where am I going to find good help in Cthol Murgos? Whom can I trust?"
    "You trust Oskatat, don't you?"
    "Well, yes, I suppose so."
    "That's a start, then. You see, Urgit, what's happening is that you've got people in Rak Urga who are making decisions that you should, be making. They're taking it upon themselves to do that because you've been too afraid or too busy with other things to assert your authority."
    "You're being inconsistent, Belgarion. First you say that I should get some people to help me, then you turn around and tell me that I shouldn't let other people make my decisions."
    "You weren't listening. The people who are making your decisions for you aren't the people you might have chosen.
    They've just stepped in on their own. In a lot of cases, you probably don't even know who they are. That simply won't work. You have to choose your people rather carefully. Their