Sorceress of Darshiva

them back to Mallorea."
    "Any chance that Urgit might try a counterattack?"
    "I wouldn't think so, your Majesty. I don't believe he'll gamble his army in open country. Of course, you never know what a Murgo might do."
    "That's true," Zakath agreed. He kept his knowledge that Urgit was not actually a Murgo to himself. He leaned back. "You captured Belgarion for me once, Atesca," he said.
    "Yes, your Majesty."
    "I'm afraid you're going to have to do it again. He managed to get away. Careless of me, I suppose, but I had a lot on my mind at the time."
    "We'll just have to pick him up again then, won't we, your Majesty?"

    The Alorn Council met at Boktor that year. Somewhat uncharacteristically, Queen Porenn took charge. The tiny blond queen of Drasnia, dressed in her usual black, walked quietly to the head of the table in the red-draped council chamber in the palace and took the chair normally reserved for the Rivan King. The others stared at her in astonishment.
    "Gentlemen," she began crisply, "I recognize the fact that this flies in the face of tradition, but our time is limited. Certain information has come to me that I think you should be made aware of. We have decisions to make and very little time in which to make them."
    Emperor Varana leaned back in his chair with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "We will now pause while the Alorn kings go into collective apoplexy," he said.
    King Anheg scowled at the curly-haired emperor for a moment, then laughed. "No, Varana," he said wryly. "We all got that out of our systems when Rhodar persuaded us to follow Ce'Nedra into Mishrak ac Thull. It's Porenn's house; let her run things."
    "Why, thank you, Anheg." The Queen of Drasnia actually sounded a little surprised. She paused, gathering her thoughts. "As I'm sure you've noticed, our gathering this year includes kings who would not normally attend. The matter before us, however, concerns us all. I've recently received communications from Belgarath, Belgarion, and the others."
    There was an excited stir in the room. Porenn held up one hand. "They're in Mallorea, close on the trail of the abductor of Belgarion's son."
    "That young man can move faster than the wind sometimes," King Fulrach of Sendaria observed. The years had given Fulrach a tendency toward portliness, and his brown beard was now streaked with silver.
    "How did they get to Mallorea?" King Cho-Hag asked in his quiet voice.
    "It seems that they were captured by Kal Zakath," Porenn replied. "Garion and Zakath became friends, and Zakath took them with him when he returned to Mal Zeth."
    "Zakath actually became friends with somebody?" King Drosta of Gar og Nadrak demanded incredulously in his shrill voice. "Impossible!"
    "Garion has a way about him, sometimes," Hettar murmured.
    "The friendship, however, may have run its course," Porenn continued. "Late one night, Garion and his friends slipped out of Mal Zeth without saying goodbye to the Emperor."
    "With the whole imperial army on their trail, I'd imagine," Varana added.
    "No," Porenn disagreed. "Zakath can't leave Mal Zeth just now. Tell them, Yarblek."
    Silk's rangy partner rose to his feet. "They've got plague in Mal Zeth," he said. "Zakath has sealed up the city. No one can go in or out."
    "Prithee," Mandorallen asked, "how then was it possible for our friends to make good their escape?"
    "I'd picked up an itinerant comedian," Yarblek said sourly. "I didn't think much of him, but he amused Vella. She's fond of bawdy stories."
    "Be careful, Yarblek," the Nadrak dancer warned. "You still have your health, but I can fix that for you." She put one hand suggestively on a dagger hilt. Vella wore a stunning lavender gown. There were a few concessions to Nadrak customs in her dress, however. She still wore polished leather boots—with daggers in their tops—and the customary wide leather belt about her waist was still adorned with similar knives.
    The men in the room, however, had all been surreptitiously eyeing her since she had entered. No matter how she was dressed, Vella still had the power to attract every eye.
    "Anyway," Yarblek hurried on, "the fellow knew of a tunnel that runs from the palace to an abandoned quarry outside the city. It got us all out of Mal Zeth with no one the wiser."
    "Zakath won't like that," Drosta said. "He hates to let people go once he's caught them."
    "There's been an uprising of some sort in the Seven Kingdoms of Karanda in northern Mallorea," Porenn went on. "I understand that there