A cloud passed in front of the sun, and the garden seemed suddenly chilly in its shadow.
"This is being blown all out of proportion," the Emperor protested. "The Alorns and the Angaraks have been squabbling over that worthless stone for thousands of years. You've been waiting for the chance to fall on each other, and now you've got an excuse. Well, enjoy yourselves. Tolnedra's not going to get involved as long as I'm her Emperor."
"You're not going to be able to sit to one side in this, Ran Borune," Aunt Pol said.
"Why not? The Orb doesn't concern me one way or the other. Go ahead and destroy each other if you want. Tolnedra will still be here when it's all over."
"I doubt it," Wolf told him. "Your Empire's crawling with Murgos. They could overrun you in a week."
"They're honest merchants - here on honest business."
"Murgos don't have honest business," Aunt Pol told him. "Every Murgo in Tolnedra is here because he was sent by the Grolim High Priest."
"That's an exaggeration," Ran Borune said stubbornly. "The whole world knows that you and your father have an obsessive hatred of all Angaraks, but times have changed."
"Cthol Murgos is still ruled from Rak Cthol," Wolf said, "and Ctuchik is master there. Ctuchik hasn't changed, even if the world has. The merchants from Rak Goska might seem civilized to you, but they all jump when Ctuchik whistles, and Ctuchik's the disciple of Torak."
"Torak's dead."
"Really?" Aunt Pol said. "Have you seen his grave? Have you opened the grave and seen his bones?"
"My Empire's very expensive to run," the Emperor said, "and I need the revenue the Murgos bring me. I've got agents in Rak Goska and all along the South Caravan Route, so I'd know if the Murgos were getting ready for any kind of move against me. I'm just a little suspicious that all this might be the result of some internal contention within the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. You people have your own motives, and I'm not going to let you use my Empire as a pawn in your power struggles."
"And if the Angaraks win?" Aunt Pol said, "How do you plan to deal with Torak?"
"I'm not afraid of Torak."
"Have you ever met him?" Wolf asked.
"Obviously not. Listen, Belgarath, you and your daughter have never been friendly to Tolnedra. You treated us like a defeated enemy after Vo Mimbre. Your information's interesting, and I'll consider it in its proper perspective, but Tolnedran policy is not dominated by Alorn preconceptions. Our economy relies heavily on trade along the South Caravan Route. I'm not going to disrupt my Empire simply because you happen to dislike Murgos."
"You're a fool then," Wolf said bluntly.
"You'd be surprised at how many people think so," the Emperor replied. "Maybe you'll have better luck with my successor. If he's a Vorduvian or a Honeth, you might even be able to bribe him, but Borunes don't take bribes."
"Or advice," Aunt Pol added.
"Only when it suits us, Lady Polgara," Ran Borune said.
"I think we've done everything we can here," Wolf decided.
A bronze door at the back of the garden slammed open, and a tiny girl with flaming hair stormed through, her eyes ablaze. At first Garion thought she was a child, but as she came closer, he realized that she was somewhat older than that. Although she was very small, the short, sleeveless green tunic she wore displayed limbs that were much closer to maturity. He felt a peculiar kind of shock when he saw her - almost, but not quite, like recognition. Her hair was a tumbled mass with long, elaborate curls cascading down over her neck and shoulders, and it was a color that Garion had never seen before, a deep, burnished red that seemed somehow to glow from within. Her skin was a golden color that seemed, as she swept through the shadows of the trees near the gate, to have an almost greenish cast to it. She was in a state verging on sheer rage. "Why am I being kept prisoner here?" she demanded of the Emperor.
"What are you talking about?" Ran Borune asked.
"The legionnaires won't let me leave the palace grounds!"
"Oh," the Emperor said, "that."
"Exactly. That. "
"They're acting on my orders, Ce'Nedra," the Emperor told her.
"So they said. Tell them too stop it."
"No."
"No?" Her tone was incredulous. "No?" Her voice climbed several octaves. "What do you mean, no?"
"It's too dangerous for you to be out in the city just now," the Emperor said placatingly.
"Nonsense," she snapped. "I don't intend to sit around in this stuffy palace just because you're afraid of your own shadow. I need some things from the market."
"Send someone."
"I don't want to send anyone!" she shouted at him. "I want to go myself."
"Well, you can't," he said flatly. "Spend your time on your studies instead."
"I don't want to study," she cried. "Jeebers is a stuffy idiot, and he bores me. I don't want to sit around talking about history or politics or any of the rest of it. I just want an afternoon to myself."
"I'm sorry."
"Please, father," she begged, her tone dropping into a wheedling note. She took hold of one of the folds of his gold mantle and twisted it around one of her tiny fingers. "Please." The look she directed at the Emperor through her lashes would have melted stone.
"Absolutely not," he said, refusing to look at her. "My order stands. You will not leave the palace grounds."
"I hate you!" she cried. Then she ran from the garden in tears. "My daughter," the Emperor explained almost apologetically. "You can't imagine what it's like having a child like that."
"Oh, I can imagine, all right," Mister Wolf said, glancing at Aunt Pol. She looked back at him, her eyes challenging.
"Go ahead and say it, father," she told him. "I'm sure you won't be happy until you do."
Wolf shrugged. "Forget it."
Ran Borune looked thoughtfully at the two of them. "It occurs to me that we might be able to negotiate a bit here," he said, his eyes narrowing.
"What did you have in mind?" Wolf asked.
"You have a certain authority among the Alorns," the Emperor suggested.
"Some," Wolf admitted carefully.
"If you were to ask them, I'm sure they'd be willing to overlook one of the more absurd provisions of the Accords of Vo Mimbre."