They met the men of Zakath's imperial garrison from Lengha about noon the following day. The commander of the garrison rode forward and stared at Zakath in some amazement. "Your Imperial Majesty," he said, "is that really you?"

Zakath rubbed at his black beard, "Oh, you mean this, Colonel?" He laughed. "It was the suggestion of that old man over there." He pointed at Belgarath. "We didn't want people to recognize me, and my face is stamped on every coin in Mallorea. Did you have any trouble on your way north?"

"Nothing worth mentioning, your Majesty. We encountered a dozen or so groups of Darshivan soldiers usually hiding in clumps of trees. We encircled each clump, and they all surrendered immediately. They're very good at surrendering."

"They run quite well, too, we’ve noticed." Zakath smiled.

The colonel looked at his emperor a bit hesitantly. "I hope you won't be offended at my saying this, your Majesty, but you seem to have changed since the last time I was in Mal Zeth."

"Oh?"

"I’ve never seen you under arms, for one thing.”

"Troubled times, Colonel. Troubled times."

"And if you'll forgive my saying so, your Majesty, I’ve never heard you laugh before or even seen you smile."

“I’ve had little reason before, Colonel. Shall we go on to Lengha?"

When they arrived in Lengha, Cyradis, with Toth's assistance, led them directly to the harbor, where a strangely configured ship awaited them.

"Thank you, Colonel," Zakath said to the garrison commander. "Providing this ship was most considerate of you."

"Excuse me, your Majesty," the colonel replied, "but I had nothing to do with the ship."

Zakath gave Toth a startled look, and the big mute smiled briefly at Durnik.

Durnik frowned slightly. "Brace yourself, Kal Zakath," he said. "The arrangements for the ship were made several thousand years ago."

Belgarath's face was suddenly creased by a broad smile. "It would seem that we're right on schedule then. I do so hate to be late for an appointment."

"Really?" Beldin said. "I remember one time when you showed up five years after you were supposed to."

"Something came up."

"Something usually does. Wasn't that during the period when you were spending your time with the girls in Maragor?"

Belgarath coughed and cast a slightly guilty look at his daughter.

Polgara raised one eyebrow but didn't say anything.

The ship was manned by the same sort of mute crew as had conveyed them from the coast of Gorut in Cthol Murgos to the Isle of Verkat. Once again Garion was struck by that haunting sense of repetition. As soon as they were on board, the crew cast off all lines and made sail.

"Peculiar," Silk observed. "The breeze is coming in off the sea, and we're sailing directly into it."

"I noticed that," Durnik agreed.

"I thought you might have. It appears that normal rules don't apply to the Dals."