Sorceress of Darshiva

Garion walked away and left her alone with the shaken Zakath. This particular turn of events gave him some misgivings. Although he liked the Mallorean Emperor personally, he could foresee any number of difficulties arising from the inclusion of this man in their party. Quite often in the past, their very survival had depended entirely upon the absolute oneness of purpose of every member of the group, and Zakath's motives were never really clear. "Garion," the voice in his mind said wearily, "don't tamper with things you don't understand. Zakath has to go with you, so you might as well get used to the idea.''
    "But—"
    "No buts. Just do it. "
    Garion muttered a few oaths under his breath.
    "And don't swear at me, either. ''
    "This is an absurdity!" Zakath burst out, slumping into a chair.
    "No," Polgara disagreed. "You just have to get used to looking at the world in a different way, that's all. For most people, that's not necessary. You're a member of a very select group now, and different rules apply.''
    "Rules have never applied to me, Lady Polgara. I make my own rules."
    "Not any more."
    "Why me?" Zakath demanded.
    "That's always the first question they ask," Belgarath said drily to Silk.
    "Has anybody ever answered it?"
    "Not to my knowledge, no."
    "We can instruct you as we go along," Polgara assured Zakath. "The only important thing right now is whether or not you intend to honor your commitment to Cyradis."
    "Of course I do. I gave my word. I don't like it, but I don't have any choice. How can she possibly manipulate me the way she does?"
    "She has very strange powers."
    "She does it by sorcery, you mean?"
    "No. By truth."
    "Did you understand any of that gibberish she was speaking?"
    "Some of it, but certainly not all. I told you that we look at the world in a different way. The seers look at it in yet another. No one who does not share their vision can fully understand it."
    Zakath stared at the floor. "I suddenly feel very helpless," he admitted, "and I don't like the feeling. I've been rather effectively dethroned, you know. This morning I was the Emperor of the largest nation on earth; this afternoon, I'm going to be a vagabond."
    "You might find it refreshing," Silk told him lightly.
    "Shut up, Kheldar," Zakath said almost absently. He looked back at Polgara. "You know something rather peculiar?"
    "What's that?"
    "Even if I hadn't given my word, I'd still have to go to Kell. It's almost like a compulsion. I feel as if I'm being driven, and my driver is a blindfolded girl who's hardly more than a child."
    "There are rewards," she told him.
    "Such as what?"
    "Who knows? Happiness, perhaps."
    He laughed ironically. "Happiness has never been a driving ambition of mine, Lady Polgara, not for a long time now."
    "You may have to accept it anyway." She smiled. "We aren't allowed to choose our rewards any more than we are our tasks. Those decisions are made for us."
    "Are you happy?"
    "Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I am."
    He sighed.
    "And why so great a sigh, Kal Zakath?"
    He held up his thumb and forefinger spread an inch or so apart. "I was that close to becoming the master of the entire world."
    "Why would you want to be?"
    He shrugged. "No one's ever done it before, and power has its satisfactions."
    "You'll find other satisfactions, I'm sure," she smiled, laying one hand on his shoulder.
    "It's settled?" Belgarath asked the Mallorean.
    "Nothing is ever really settled, Belgarath," Zakath replied. "Not until we're in our graves; but yes, I'll go to Kell with you."
    "Why don't you send for Atesca, then? You'll need to tell him where you're going, so he can at least cover our rear. I don't like having people sneak up behind me. Has Urvon made it across the Magan as yet?"
    "That's very hard to say. Have you looked outside today, Belgarath?"
    "The tent door is guarded, and Atesca's soldiers don't encourage sight-seeing."
    "The fog's so thick you could walk on it. Urvon could be anyplace out there."
    Polgara rose and quickly crossed to the tent flap. She opened it, and one of the guards outside said something to her sharply.
    "Oh, don't be silly," she told him. Then she took several deep breaths and closed the flap. "It's not natural, father," «he said soberly. "It doesn't smell right."
    "Grolims?"
    "I think so, yes. Probably Chandim trying to conceal Urvon's forces from Atesca's patrol boats. They should be able to cross the Magan without much difficulty."
    "Once they get across, the trip to Kell might just