Sorceress of Darshiva

in a crisp, businesslike manner. "Mallorean intelligence is crude by our standards, but Brador has the resources to put as many agents in the field as he needs. Neither Drasnian nor Tolnedran intelligence has that luxury. Brador sometimes loses a hundred people in the process, but he can usually get the information." He sniffed disdainfully. "I prefer a neater type of operation, personally."
    "Then this Brador has operatives in Rak Urga?" Varana pressed.
    "Almost certainly," Javelin replied. "I have four in the Drojim Palace at this time myself—and your Majesty's service has two that I know of.''
    "I didn't know that," Varana said with an innocent look.
    "Really?"
    Varana laughed. "All right," he went on, "what would Zakath do if word reached Mal Zeth that the Kingdoms of the West were about to conclude a military alliance with the King of Murgodom?"
    Javelin began to pace up and down. "It's very hard to know exactly what Zakath will do in any given situation," he mused. "A lot depends on just how serious his domestic problems are, but an alliance between the Murgos and the West would pose a major threat to Mallorea. He'd almost have to come back immediately and make an all-out effort to crush the Murgos before our troops could reinforce them."
    "Ally ourselves with the Murgos?" Hettar exclaimed. "Never!"
    "Nobody's suggesting a real alliance, my Lord Hettar," Kail, the son of the Rivan Warder, told him, "All we want to do is distract Zakath for long enough to give Belgarion the time to slip past him. The negotiations can drag on and then fall apart later on."
    "Oh," Hettar said, looking a bit abashed, "that's different, then—I suppose."
    "All right," Varana went on crisply. "Perhaps we can persuade Zakath that we're about to conclude an alliance with Urgit—if we do it right. Javelin, have your people kill a few Mallorean agents in the Drojim Palace—not all of them, mind you—just enough to convince Mal Zeth that this is a serious diplomatic effort."
    "I understand perfectly, your Majesty." Javelin smiled. "I have just the man—a recently recruited Nyissan assassin named Issus."
    "Good. A possible alliance will serve the same purpose as a real one. We can distract Zakath without the loss of a single man—unless we count this Issus fellow.''
    "Don't worry about Issus, your Majesty," Javelin assured him. "He's a survivor."
    "I think we're missing something," Anheg growled. "I wish Rhodar were here."
    "Yes," Porenn agreed in a voice near to tears.
    "Sorry, Porenn," Anheg said, engulfing her tiny hand in his huge one, "but you know what I mean."
    "I have a diplomat in Rak Urga," Varana continued. "He can make the overtures to King Urgit. Do we know anything useful about the King of the Murgos?"
    "Yes," Porenn said firmly. "He'll be amenable to the suggestion."
    "How do you know, your Majesty?"
    Porenn hesitated. "I'd rather not say," she said with a quick glance at Javelin.
    "Just take my word for it."
    "Of course," Varana agreed.
    Vella rose and walked to the window, her satin gown filling the room with its music. "You people of the West always want to complicate things," she said critically. "Zakath's your problem. Send somebody to Mal Zeth with a sharp knife.'‘
    "You should have been a man, Vella." Anheg laughed.
    She turned and looked at him with smoldering eyes. "Do you really think so?" she asked.
    "Well," he hesitated, "maybe not."
    She leaned disconsolately against the window casing. "I wish I had my juggler here to entertain me," she said. "Politics always give me a headache." She sighed. "I wonder whatever happened to him."
    Porenn smiled, watching the girl intently and remembering the sudden insight she had when the Nadrak girl first arrived in Boktor. "Would you be terribly disappointed to find out that your juggler was not who he seemed to be?" she asked. "Belgarath mentioned him in his letter."
    Vella looked at her sharply.
    "Belgarath would have known him, of course," Porenn went on. "It was Beldin,"
    Vella's eyes went wide. "The hunchbacked sorcerer?" she exclaimed. "The one who can fly?"
    Porenn nodded.
    Vella said a number of things that no genteel lady would have said. Even King Anheg turned slightly pale at her choice of language. Then she drew a dagger and advanced on Yarblek, her breath hissing between her teeth. Mandorallen, clad all in steel, stepped in front of her, and Hettar and Barak seized her from behind and wrested the knife from her grasp.
    "You idiot!" she shrieked at the