King of The Murgos

first qualification has to be ability. Right behind that comes personal loyalty to you—and to your mother."
    "Nobody's loyal to me, Belgarion. My subjects despise me."
    "You might be surprised. I don't think there's any question about Oskatat's loyalty—or his ability. That's probably a good place to start. Let him pick your administrators. They'll start out by being loyal to him, but in time they'll come to respect you as well."
    "I hadn't even considered that. Do you think it might work?"
    "It won't hurt to try. To be perfectly honest with you, my friend, you've made a mess of things. It's going to take you a while to straighten them out, but you've got to start somewhere."
    "You've given me quite a bit to think about, Belgarion." Urgit shivered and looked around. "It's really miserable out here," he said. "Where did Kheldar go?"
    "Back inside. I think he's trying to get well."
    "You mean that there's actually something that will cure this?"
    "Some Alorns recommend some more of what made you sick in the first place."
    Urgit's face went pale. "More?" he said in a horrified voice. "How can they?"
    "Alorns are notoriously brave people."
    Urgit's eyes grew suspicious. "Wait a minute," he said. "Wouldn't that just make me feel exactly the same way tomorrow morning?"
    "Probably, yes. That could explain why Alorns are usually so foul-tempered when they first get up."
    "That's stupid, Belgarion."
    "I know. Murgos don't have an absolute monopoly on stupidity." Garion looked at the shivering man. "I think you'd better go inside, Urgit," he advised. "You don't want a chill, on top of all your other problems."
    The rain let up by late afternoon. The Murgo captain looked up at the still-threatening sky and then at the cliffs and the jagged reefs jutting out of the turbulent water and prudently ordered his crew to lower the sails and drop the anchor.
    Durnik and Toth rather regretfully rolled up their stout fishing lines and stood looking proudly at the dozen or so gleaming silver fish lying on the deck at their feet.
    Garion drifted back to where they stood and looked admiringly at their catch. "Not bad," he said.
    Durnik carefully measured the biggest fish with his hands. "About three feet," he said, "but they're minnows compared to the big one that got away."
    "It always seems to work out that way," Garion said. "Oh," he added, "one thing, Durnik. I'd clean them before I showed them to Aunt Pol. You know how she feels about that."
    Durnik sighed. "You're probably right," he agreed.
    That evening, after they had all dined on some of the catch, they sat around the table in the aft cabin conversing idly.
    "Do you think Agachak's caught up with Harakan yet?" Durnik asked Belgarath.
    "I sort of doubt it," the old man replied. "Harakan's tricky. If Beldin couldn't catch him, I don't think Agachak's going to have much luck either."
    "Lady Polgara," Sadi suddenly protested in a tone of outrage, "make her stop that."
    "What's that, Sadi?"
    "The Margravine Liselle. She's subverting my snake."
    Velvet, with a mysterious little smile on her face, was delicately feeding Zith fish eggs taken from one of the large fish Durnik and Toth had caught. The little green snake was purring contentedly and was half-raised in anticipation of the next morsel.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
    The wind came up during the night, a raw, gusty wind, smelling strongly of dusty old ice, and the drizzle which had fallen for most of the previous day turned to sleet that rattled in the rigging and clattered on the deck like handfuls of pebbles. As usual, Garion rose early and tiptoed on unshod feet from the tiny cabin he shared with his sleeping wife. He made his way down the dark companionway past the doors to the cabins where the others slept and entered the aft cabin. He stood for a time at the windows running across the stem of the ship, looking out at the wind-tossed waves and listening to the slow creak of the tiller post running down through the center of the cabin to the rudder that probed the dark water beneath the stern.
    As he sat down to put on his boots, the door opened and Durnik came in, brushing the ice pellets of the sleet squall chattering on the decks from the folds of his cloak. "It's going to be slow going for a while, I'm afraid," he said to Garion. "The wind's swung around and it's coming directly up out of the south. We're running right straight into it. The sailors are breaking out the oars."
    "Could you get any idea of how far it is to the tip of