"This is going too far, Belgarath," Drosta said. "I might try to maneuver my way around Taur Urgas and 'Zakath, but I'm not going to cross Torak." He turned decisively toward the door.

"Don't do anything rash, Drosta," Belgarath advised him calmly, sitting in a chair and taking a sip of his wine. "Grolims can be most unreasonable, and the fact that I'm here in Yar Nadrak could only be viewed as the result of some collusion on your part. They'd have you bent backward over an altar and your heart sizzling in the coals before you ever got the chance to explain - king or no king."

Drosta froze in his tracks, his pockmarked face going very pale. For a moment, he seemed to be struggling with himself. Then his shoulders slumped and his resolution seemed to wilt. "You've got me by the throat, haven't you, Belgarath?" he said with a short laugh. "You've managed to make me outsmart myself, and now you're going to use that to force me to betray the God of Angarak."

"Are you really all that fond of him?"

"Nobody's fond of Torak. I'm afraid of him, and that's a better reason to stay on the good side of him than any sentimental attachment. If he wakes up-" The king of the Nadraks shuddered.

"Have you ever given much thought to the kind of world we'd have if he didn't exist?" Belgarath suggested.

"That's too much to even wish for. He's a God. No one could hope to 'defeat him. He's too powerful for that."

"There are things more powerful than Gods, Drosta - two that I can think of offhand, and those two are rushing toward a final meeting. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to put yourself between them at this point."

But something else had occurred to Drosta. He turned slowly with a look of stunned incredulity and stared directly at Garion. He shook his head and wiped at his eyes, like a man trying to clear away a fog. Garion became painfully aware of the great sword strapped across his back. Drosta's bulging eyes widened even more as the realization of what he was seeing erased the Orb's suggestion that his brain not record what stood in plain sight before him. His expression became awed, and desperate hope dawned on his ugly face. "Your Majesty," he stammered, bowing with profound respect. "

"Your Majesty," Garion replied, politely inclining his head.

"It looks as if I'm forced to wish you good luck," Drosta said in a quiet voice. "Despite what Belgarath says, I think you're going to need it."

"Thank you, King Drosta," Garion said.

Chapter Six

"DO YOU THINK we can trust Drosta?" Garion asked Silk as they followed Belgarath along the garbage-littered alley behind the tavern.