King of The Murgos

Mardu?'
    Urgit laughed. "That may be the popular perception, Sadi, but in point of fact, the Imperial Princess Ce'Nedra's army was just unlucky enough to get between two opposing Angarak monarchs. They didn't care a thing about her or about that dungheap people call Mishrak ac Thull. All they were trying to do was kill each other. Then my addled father made the mistake of challenging King Cho-Hag of Algaria to single combat, and Cho-Hag gave him a very pointed lesson in swordsmanship." He looked thoughtfully into the fire. "I still think I ought to send Cho-Hag some token of appreciation," he mused.
    "Excuse me, your Majesty." Sadi frowned. "But I don't altogether understand. Kal Zakath's quarrel was with your father, and Taur Urgas is dead."
    "Oh yes, quite dead," Urgit agreed. "I cut his throat before I buried him—just to make sure. I think that Zakath's problem stems from the fact that he didn't get the chance to kill my father personally. Failing that, I guess he's willing to settle for me." He rose and began to pace moodily up and down. "I've sent him a dozen peace overtures, but all he does is send me back the heads of my emissaries. I think he's as crazy as my father was." He stopped his restless pacing. "You know, maybe I was a bit hasty on my way to the throne. I had a dozen brothers—all of the blood of Taur Urgas. If I'd kept a few of them alive, I might have been able to give them to Zakath. Perhaps, if he had drunk enough Urga blood, it might have made him lose his taste for it."
    The door opened and a bulky Murgo with an ornate gold chain about his neck entered the room. "I need your signature on this," he said rudely to Urgit, thrusting a sheet of parchment at him.
    "What is it, General Kradak?" Urgit asked meekly.
    The officer's face darkened.
    "All right," Urgit said in a mollifying tone, "don't get yourself excited." He took the parchment to a nearby table where a quill pen lay beside a silver ink-pot. He dipped the pen, scribbled his name on the bottom of the sheet, and handed it back.
    "Thank you, your Majesty," General Kradak said in a flat voice. Then he turned on his heel and left the room.
    "One of my father's generals," Urgit told Sadi sourly. "They all treat me like that." He began to pace up and down again, scuffing his feet at the carpet. "How much do you know about King Belgarion, Sadi?" he asked suddenly.
    The eunuch shrugged. "Well, I've met him once or twice."
    "Didn't you say that most of your servants are Alorns?"
    "Alorn mercenaries, yes. They're dependable and very good to have around if a fight breaks out."
    The Murgo King turned to Belgarath, who sat dozing in a chair. "You—old man," he said abruptly. "Have you ever met Belgarion of Riva?"
    "Several times," Belgarath admitted calmly.
    "What kind of man is he?"
    "Sincere," Belgarath replied. "He tries very hard to be a good king."
    "Just how powerful is he?"
    "Well, he has the whole Alorn Alliance to back him up, and technically he's the Overlord of the West—although the Tolnedrans are likely to go their own way, and the Arends would rather fight each other."
    "That's not what I meant. How good a sorcerer is he?"
    "Why ask me, your Majesty? Do I look like the kind of man who'd know very much about that sort of thing? He managed to kill Torak, though, and I'd imagine that took a bit of doing."
    "How about Belgarath? Is there really such a person, or is he just a myth?"
    "No, Belgarath is a real person."
    "And he's seven thousand years old?"
    "Seven thousand or so." Belgarath shrugged. "Give or take a few centuries."
    "And his daughter Polgara?"
    "She's also a real person."
    "And she's thousands of years old?"
    "Something like that. I could probably figure it out if I needed to, but a gentleman doesn't ask questions about a lady's age."
    Urgit laughed—a short, ugly, barking sound. "The words 'gentleman' and 'Murgo' are mutually exclusive, my friend," he said. "Do you think Belgarion would receive my emissaries, if I sent them to Riva?"
    "He's out of the country just now," Belgarath told him blandly.
    "I hadn't heard that."
    "He does it from time to time. Every so often he gets bored with all the ceremonies and goes away."
    "How does he manage that? How can he just pick up and leave?"
    "Who's going to argue with him?"
    Urgit began to gnaw worriedly on one fingernail. "Even if the Dagashi Kabach succeeds in killing Zakath, I'm still going to have a Mallorean army on my doorstep. I'm going to need an ally if I'm ever going to