I reached the north bank of the River of the Woods, swam across, and shook the water out of my fur. You might want to keep that in mind: if you take the form of a furred creature and you happen to get wet before you change back, always shake off the excess water first. Otherwise, your clothes will be dripping when you resume your real form.
I was in Nyissa now, so I didn’t have to worry about Dryads any more. I started keeping a sharp eye out for snakes instead. Normal humans make some effort to keep the snake-population under control, but the snake is a part of the Nyissan religion, so they don’t. Their jungles are literally alive with slithering reptiles – all venomous. I managed to get bitten three times during my first day in that stinking swamp, and that made me extremely cautious. It wasn’t hard to counteract the venom, fortunately, but being bitten by a snake is never pleasant.
The war with the Marags had seriously altered Nyissan society. Before the Marag invasion, the Nyissans had cleared away large plots of jungle and built cities and connecting highways. Highways provide invasion routes, however, and a city, by its very existence, proclaims the presence of large numbers of people and valuable property. You might as well invite attack. Salmissra realized that, and she ordered her subjects to disperse and to allow the jungle to reclaim all the towns and roads. This left only the capital at Sthiss Tor, and since I’d sort of drifted into the self-appointed task of making a survey of the kingdoms of the west, I decided to pay a call on the Serpent Queen.
The Marag invasion had occurred almost a hundred years earlier, but there were still abundant signs of the devastation it had caused. The abandoned cities, choked in vines and bushes, still showed evidence of fire and of the kind of destruction siege-engines cause. Now the Nyissans themselves scrupulously avoided those uninviting ruins. When you get right down to it, Nyissa is a theocracy. Salmissra is not only queen, but also the High Priestess of the Serpent God. Thus, when she gives an order, her people automatically obey her, and she’d ordered them to go live out in the brush with the snakes.
I was a little footsore when I reached Sthiss Tor, and very hungry. You have to be careful about what you eat in Nyissa. Virtually every plant and a fair number of the birds and animals are either narcotic, or poisonous, or both.
I located a ferry-landing and crossed the River of the Serpent to the garish city of Sthiss Tor. The Nyissans are an inspired people. The rest of the world likes to believe that inspiration is a gift from the Gods, but the Nyissans have found a simpler way to achieve that peculiar ecstasy. Their jungles abound with various plants with strange properties, and the snake-people are daring experimenters. I knew a Nyissan once who was addicted to nine different narcotics. He was the happiest fellow I’ve ever known. It’s probably not a good idea to have your house designed by an architect with a chemically augmented imagination, however. Assuming that it doesn’t collapse on the workmen during construction, it’s likely to have any number of peculiar features – stairways that don’t go anyplace, rooms that there’s no way to get into, doors that open out into nothing but air, and assorted other inconveniences. It’s also likely to be painted a color which doesn’t have a name and has never appeared in any rainbow.
I knew where Salmissra’s palace was, since Beldin and I had been in Sthiss Tor during the Marag invasion, so I wasn’t obliged to ask directions of people who didn’t even know where they were, much less where anything else was.
The functionaries in the palace were all shaved-headed eunuchs. There’s probably a certain logic there. From puberty onward, the assorted Salmissras are kept on a regimen of various compounds that slow the normal aging process. It’s very important that Salmissra forever looks the same as the original handmaiden of Issa. Unfortunately, one of the side-effects of those compounds is a marked elevation of the Queen’s appetite – and I’m not talking about food. Salmissra does have a kingdom to run, and if her servants were functional adult males, she’d probably never get anything done.
Please, I’m trying to put this as delicately as possible.
The queen knew that I was coming, of course. One of the qualifications for the throne of Nyissa is the ability to perceive things that others can’t. It’s not exactly like our peculiar gift, but it serves its purpose. The eunuchs greeted me with genuflections and various other fawning gestures of respect and immediately escorted me to the throne room. The current Salmissra, naturally, looked the same as all her predecessors, and she was reclining on a divanlike throne, admiring her reflection in a mirror and stroking the bluntly pointed head of a pet snake. Her gown was diaphanous, and it left very little to the imagination. The huge stone statue of Issa, the Serpent God, loomed behind the dals where his current handmaiden lay.
‘Hail, Eternal Salmissra,’ the eunuch who was escorting me intoned, prostrating himself on the polished floor.
‘The Chief Eunuch approaches the throne,’ the dozen red-robed functionaries intoned in unison.
‘What is it, Sthess?’ Salmissra replied in an indifferent sort of voice.
‘Ancient Belgarath entreats audience with the Beloved of Issa.’
Salmissra turned her head slowly and gazed at me with those colorless eyes of hers. ‘The Handmaiden of Issa greets the Disciple of Aldur,’ she proclaimed.
‘Fortunate the Disciple of Aldur to be received by the Serpent Queen,’ the chorus intoned.
‘You’re looking well, Salmissra,’ I responded, cutting across about a half-hour of tedious formality.
‘Do you really think so, Belgarath?’ She said it with a kind of girlish ingenuousness which suggested that she was quite young – probably no more than two or three years on the throne.
‘You always look well, dear,’ I replied. The little endearment was probably a violation of all sorts of rules, but I felt that, considering her age, I could get away with it.
‘The honored guest greets Eternal Salmissra,’ the chorus announced.
‘Do you suppose we could dispense with that?’ I asked, jerking my thumb over my shoulder at the kneeling eunuchs. ‘You and I need to talk, and all that singing distracts my attention.’
‘A private audience, Belgarath?’ she asked me archly.
I winked at her with a sly smirk.
It is our pleasure that the Ancient One shall divulge his mind to us in private,’ she announced to her worshipers. ‘You have our permission to withdraw.’
‘Well, really!’ I heard one of them mutter in an outraged tone.
‘Remain if you wish, Kass,’ Salmissra said to the protestor in an indifferent tone of voice. ‘Know, however, that no one living will hear what passes between me and the disciple of Aldur. Go and live – or stay and die.’ She had style, I’ll give her that. Her offer cleared the throne room immediately.
‘Well,’ she said, her colorless eyes smoldering, ‘now that we’re alone.’ She left it hanging suggestively.
‘Ah, don’t y’ be after temptin’ me, Darlin’,’ I said, grinning. Beldin had gotten away with that; why couldn’t I?
She actually laughed. That was the only time I ever heard one of the hundred or more Salmissras do that.
‘Let’s get down to business, Salmissra,’ I suggested briskly. ‘I’ve been conducting a survey of the western kingdoms, and I think we might profitably exchange some information.’
‘I hunger for your words, Ancient One,’ she said, her face taking on an outrageously vapid expression. This one had a very sharp mind and a highly developed sense of humor. I quickly altered my approach. An intelligent Salmissra was a dangerous novelty.
‘You know what happened in Mallorea, of course,’ I began.
‘Yes,’