Free The Belgariad 5: Enchanter's End Game by David Eddings Page A

then."
    "You're a nice enough fellow, Kheldar," Drosta told him dryly, "but I wouldn't go to all this trouble just for the pleasure of your company. You've got to carry my message to Rhodar. I've tried to get word to him, but I can't catch up with him. He won't stay in one place long enough. How can a fat man move so cursed fast?"
    "He's deceptive," Silk said shortly. "Exactly what have you got in mind?"
    "An alliance," Drosta replied bluntly. "My back's against the wall. Either I ally myself with Rhodar, or I get swallowed up."
    Silk carefully set down his glass. "That's a very large suggestion, your Majesty. In the present situation, it's going to take a great deal of fast talking to arrange."
    "That's why I sent for you, Kheldar. We're staring the end of the world right in the face. You've got to get to Rhodar and persuade him to pull his army back from the Thull border. Make him stop this insanity before it goes too far."
    "Making my uncle do things is a little beyond my abilities, King Drosta," Silk replied carefully. "I'm flattered that you think I've got that much influence with him, but things have usually been the other way around between us."
    "Don't you understand what's going on, Kheldar?" King Drosta's voice was anguished, and he gesticulated almost wildly as he spoke. "Our only hope of survival lies in not giving the Murgos and the Malloreans any kind of reason to unite. We should work to stir up trouble between them, not to provide them with a common enemy. Taur Urgas and 'Zakath hate each other with a passion so intense that it's almost holy. There are more Murgos than grains of sand and more Malloreans than stars. The Grolims can babble their gibberish about the awakening of Torak until their tongues fall out, but Taur Urgas and 'Zakath have taken the field for just one reason - each of them wants to destroy the other and make himself overking of Angarak. They're headed directly toward a war of mutual extinction. We can be rid of both of them if we just don't interfere."
    "I think I see what you mean," Silk murmured.
    "'Zakath is ferrying his Malloreans across the Sea of the East to his staging area near Thull Zelik, and Taur Urgas has the southern Murgos massed near Rak Goska. Inevitably, they're going to move on each other. We've got to stay out of the way and let them fight. Make Rhodar pull back before he spoils everything."
    "Have you talked with the Thulls about this?" Silk asked.
    Drosta snorted with contempt. "What's the point? I've tried to explain this to King Gethell, but talking to him is like talking to a pile of manure. The Thulls are so afraid of the Grolims that all you have to do is mention Torak's name and they go all to pieces. Gethell's a Thull through and through. There's nothing between his ears but sand."
    "There's just one problem with all of this, Drosta," Silk told the agitated monarch. "I can't carry your message to King Rhodar."
    "Can't?" Drosta exploded. "What do you mean, you can't?"
    "My uncle and I aren't on the best of terms just now," Silk lied smoothly. "We had a little misunderstanding a few months ago, and about the first thing he'd do, if he saw me coming, is have me put in chains - and I'm almost certain things would go downhill from there."
    Drosta groaned. "We're all doomed then," he declared, seeming to slump in on himself. "You were my last hope."
    "Let me think a moment," Silk said. "We might be able to salvage something out of this yet." He stared at the floor, chewing absently on a fingernail as he turned the problem over in his mind. "I can't go," he concluded. "That's obvious. But that doesn't mean that somebody else couldn't."
    "Who else would Rhodar trust?" Drosta demanded.
    Silk turned to Yarblek, who had been listening to the conversation intently with a worried frown. "Are you in any kind of trouble in Drasnia at the moment?" he asked.
    "Not that I know of."
    "All right," Silk continued. "There's a fur dealer in Boktor. Geldahar's his name."
    "Fat man? Sort