The Seeress of Kell

point of your lance dipped. You have to adjust your point of aim."
    "Oh, I see. All right, let me try it again." On the next pass he struck the shield a glancing blow that made it spin around the limb. "Any better?" he asked.
    Garion shook his head. "You'd have killed him. When you hit the top of the shield that way, your lance is deflected upward, and it drives right into his visor. It breaks his neck."
    "I'll try it again."
    By noon Zakath had made considerable progress.
    "That's enough for today," Garion said. "It's starting to get hot out here."
    "I'm still all right," Zakath objected.
    "I was thinking about your horse."
    "Oh. He is lathered a bit, isn't he?"
    "More than just a bit. Besides, I'm starting to get hungry."
    The day of the tourney dawned clear and sunny, and throngs of the citizens of Dal Perivor streamed through the streets in bright-colored clothing toward the field where the festivities were to take place. "A thought just occurred to me," Garion said to Zakath as they left the palace. “You and I aren't really interested in who gets proclaimed the winner of the tournament, are we?"
    "I don't follow you.”
    "We have something much more important to do, and any broken bones would probably hinder us. We make a few passes and unhorse a few knights and then allow ourselves to get knocked out of the saddle. We'll have satisfied the requirements of honor without putting ourselves in any serious danger Of injury."
    "Are you suggesting that we deliberately lose?” Zakath asked Incredulously.
    "Approximately, yes.”
    "I’ve never lost a contest of any kind in my whole life."
    "You're starting to sound more and more like Mandorallen ." Garion sighed.
    "Besides," Zakath went on, "I think you're overlooking something. We're supposed to be mighty knights embarked on a noble quest. If we don't try our very best, Naradas will fill the king's ears with all sorts of innuendo and suspicion. If we win, on the other hand, we pull his teeth."
    "Win?" Garion snorted. "You've learned very quickly in the past week or so, but the knights we'll be facing have been practicing all their lives. I don't think we're in any real danger of winning."
    "A compromise then?" Zakath asked slyly.
    "What have you got in mind?"
    "If we win the tournament, there's almost nothing the king won't grant us, right?"
    "That's usually the way it works."
    "Wouldn't he be more than happy to let Belgarath have a look at that chart? I'm sure he knows where it is or he can compel Naradas to produce it."
    "You've got a point there, I suppose."
    "You're a sorcerer. You can fix it so that we win, can't you?"
    “Wouldn't that be cheating?”
    "You're very inconsistent, Garion. First you suggest that we deliberately fall off our horses, and that's cheating, too, isn't it? I'll tell you what, my friend. I'm the Emperor of Mallorea. You have my imperial permission to cheat. Now, is there a way you can do it?"
    Garion thought about it and then remembered something. "Do you remember the time I told you that I had to stop a war in order to get Mandorallen and Nerina safely married?"
    "Yes?"
    "This is how I did it. Most lances break sooner or later. By the time this tournament is over, the lists will be ankle-deep in splinters. On the day I stopped that war, though, my lance would not break, and I sort of surrounded it with pure force. It was very effective. Nobody, not even the best knights in all of Mimbre, stayed on his horse that day.”
    "I thought you said you conjured up a thunderstorm."
    "That was a little later. The two armies were facing each other across an open field. Not even Mimbrates would charge across a field where lightning was blowing big holes in the turf. They're not that stupid."
    "You've had a remarkable career, my young friend." Zakath laughed.
    "I had a bit of fun that day," Garion admitted. "It's not too often that one man gets to bully two complete armies. I got into a great deal of trouble about it later, though. When you tamper with the weather, you can't be sure just what the consequences are going to be. Belgarath and Beldin spent the next six months running around the world quieting things down. Grandfather was very cross when he got back. He called me all sorts of names, and 'blockhead' was about the mildest."
    "You mentioned something called 'lists.' What are they?"
    "They sink posts into the ground and fasten a long, heavy pole to the tops of them. The pole is about shoulder high on a horse. The knights who are jousting