#kheldar

Silk groaned as he lay flat on a roof in Tol Honeth. This little game of cat and mouse with Bethra was getting tiresome. It was time to pay her a visit.

“I do wish you would stop hiring half way competent people, my dear rival.” He drawled, dropping onto the balcony of her private quarters.

“Ah, Radek of Kotu, or is it Ambar of Boktor? I never can keep your aliases straight, darling.” Bethra teased, opening the curtain. Silk smirked, taking in the courtesan.

“I am merely Silk tonight. And you are beautiful as ever, my crafty Bethra.” He complimented, giving her a sweeping bow.

“Come in, I knew you would show yourself eventually.” She held the curtain open allowing him to walk in.

“I do hope I’m not disturbing your work.” There was a hint of sincerity in his voice. “I fear this may take a while.”

“It always does with you.”

“Not that.” Silk chuckled. “At least, not yet.” Bethra sat back on the richly adorned bed, a slight pout on her lips.

“I promise I won’t disappoint you, but we do have a bit of business to attend to.”

“I’m not buying another ship from you. The last one sank.”

“A thousand apologies. That is the nature of ships though.” He sat down on a bench upholstered in crushed red velvet. “All games aside, our little game is going to have to stop for a while.” His face took on the appearance of actual seriousness for once. Bethra sat up.

“By the sound of it, we have a chance here to remove One Eye from this earth, but that will be much easier if we call a temporary truce.” He grinned. “As much as I enjoy playing with you, your footpads chasing me across Aloria is going to make my progress much more difficult. And I don’t believe you’re familiar with Lady Polgara’s temper.”

“I knew there was another woman.” Bethra threw her head back dramatically, hand on her forehead and gave a great sigh. Then she started to laugh. “Oh very well. I suppose a small break won’t do any harm.”

Silk crossed the room and knelt, taking her hand to kiss. “You truly are a gem among women.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?”

“Are you accusing me of being a womanizer.”

Sir Mandorallen, Baron of Vo Mandor, was a force to be reckoned with. Undefeated in battle, noble, mostly fearless, yes, Mandorallen was quite something else. However, Silk mused, the concept of boar hunting seemed to be evading him.

“But, twould it not be more honorable to chase the beast and battle it for supremacy?” The Baron asked, his honest face bearing a look of utmost confusion.

“If you tried to chase it, it would run away, in most cases, that’s why we need the dogs to chase it towards us.” Barak’s face was resigned, he was having to think very hard about not making a comment about Mandorallen backsliding.

“Why then, might I ask, art we making use of spears. Why do we forsake our usual weaponry for such crude implements?” Mandorallen bounced the spear in his hand, unsure of the weapon he’d been given.

“I don’t want to be that close.” Hettar interjected, as he stood leaning against a tree, one foot on the trunk. “The only time you or I fight anything lower than us is on horseback. This is different. The spear also gives more reach, meaning that we’re less likely to be mortally wounded.” Mandorallen nodded slightly, taking in the taciturn truths.

“Careful old friend,” Silk laughed, “ if you use all of your words for the month, Lady Adara might be displeased with us.” Hettar smirked silently in response.

“Verily, if this is how the beast is to be vanquished, then let us go forth.” Mandorallen decided. “Lead on, Earl of Trelhiem!”

Silk smirked as Barak fought back a groan. “It’s a shame that his Highness couldn’t join us today.”

“Which one?” Barak rumbled, slightly distracted.

“Garion.”

“Agreed.” Hettar said.

“I must confess I have missed our young companion greatly of late. I fear he hath become too important to spend time with us.” Mandorallen’s great voice was filled with sorrow.

“Too important to go hunting with my friends? Never. I’m hurt you would suggest it.” A familiar and unexpected voice cut through the conversation. Out from behind a nearby tree stepped the Overlord of the West, Belgarion.

Barak would deny to his dying day that he dropped his spear and hugged the younger man for all he was worth, but it did take a lot of alcohol to swear the others to secrecy.

“I had to try to redeem myself after the last time I went boar hunting.” Garion laughed in response to the ‘what are you doing here’ questions. “As I recall, that very nearly ended in disaster.”

“That was certainly the first in a long line of scares you gave us over the years.” Silk agreed. “I think you shortened my life span by a decade at least.”

“My lord Barak, are you ready?” A huntsman called cutting short their reunion.

“Are we ready?” Barak asked, look around at his friends. There was a chorus of nods and he bellowed back, “Ready!”

At the end of the hunt, Mandorallen had taken the largest boar. However, Hettar and Barak didn’t do to badly either. Garion’s out of them all was the smallest, aside from Silk, who was just as happy not to have been charged at.

“Isn’t that about the size of the one you killed all those years ago?” Silk teased, lightly elbowing his young friend.

Garion laughed, “Probably.”

In the library, after the events of the coronation, some of the companions of the Rivan king sat in silence.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know.” Barak rumbled.

“I agree, why do you think I was taking the boy under my wing so much? He was pleasant enough, I suppose, but I wouldn’t have spent so much time trying to groom him for the throne had he truly been ordinary.” Silk agreed, smirking slightly at their abashed friends.

“I sort of wondered, there at the end.” Hettar admitted, running’s a hand over his scalp. “But anything odd about the boy seemed to be explained by Belgarath and Polgara.”

“They certainly didn’t want everyone to know. Once Barak and I figured it out, we were given graphic details about what would happen if we said anything.” Silk commented, playing idly with a flagon he had managed to sneak into the library.

“Garion is the Rivan King?” Durnik said for what was probably the tenth time that evening. His plain face was still carrying the absolute shock of the notion.

“So it twould seem, Goodman Durnik. I also am surprised by our young friend’s rise in station. I felt that any oddities about the boy were easily dismissed by his kinship to Lady Polgara and Holy Belgarath. I twould nere have imagined he was to be Overlord of the West.” Mandorallen mused, leaning back in his chair. Silk suddenly gasped, and looked horrified.

“What is it?” Relg asked, giving the little Drasnian an alarmed look.

“I just realized something awful. We can’t refer to him as ‘boy’ anymore.” Profound silence followed, before, one by one, they all started to laugh. Relg looked confused.

“You weren’t with him as long as the rest of us were,” Silk said, once he caught his breath, “but we had a bit of a running joke. He was always so sensitive to being called ‘boy’. His shoulders would hunch up and his posture would go stiff. It rather funny.”

“I think it did keep him humble.” Durnik said, the laughter having eased his shock.

“Just think, gentlemen, between all of us, we may have molded him into a functional king.” Silk said grandly. In that monument, only Durnik caught the flicker of sadness in the little thief’s eyes. Sadness and, perhaps, apprehension.

“So, now that he’s King, what will be done about one-eye?” Durnik asked. A sudden twinge of fear sparking within him for his surrogate son.

“We each go home, gather our forces, and officially start the war.” Hettar said. Durnik knew that would probably be the answer, but it still worried him. Hettar reached out and clasped the Smith’s shoulder.

“He won’t be any more alone than he was before. At least, not until the end.”

“Hettar is right, and I think we’ve taught him well. If anyone can win this, Garion can. We all know how unpredictable he can be. Remember when he brought that horse back from the dead. Even Belgarath has never attempted anything like that.” Silk said, his tone reassuring. Mandorallen smiled.

“Hadst thou told me the blonde puppy that did attempt to scold me for the treatment of his friend and companion would be the last best hope of all civilization, I would have laugh in thy face. He has grown, in surprisingly short order.”