want to find.” I thought about it as we returned to our lodgings. The
startling discovery explained a lot of things. I’m ashamed to admit
that I hadn’t thought of it before. I should have known that something
had made Chamdar so hard to keep track of. My brains must have been
asleep.
“What gave that Murgo back there away?” Silk asked.
“His thoughts. I can recognize Chamdar’s mind when I encounter it.
We’re just wasting time here in Tol Borune. I want to be on the road
to Tol Honeth when the sun comes up.”
“Javelin’s going to be very upset about this, you know. He’s devoted a
lot of time and money to watching this imposter.”
“It’s not his fault. It’s probably mine. For all we know, there could
be a half dozen or so of these imitation Asharaks knocking around here
in the West. Chamdar’s working for Ctuchik, and I’m sure that Ctuchik
knows how to alter another man’s features enough to lead us astray.”
“What’s Chamdar supposed to do?”
“He’s looking for something. I’ve been trying to keep him from finding
it.”
“Oh? What’s he looking for?”
“You don’t need to know that, Silk. When we get back to Tol Honeth, I
want you to go to Cherek.”
“Cherek? At this time of year?”
“The time of year doesn’t make any difference. You know Barak, don’t
you?”
“The Earl of Trellheim? Of course. He and I got drunk together at the
last meeting of the Alorn Council. He’s a bit of a braggart, but I
sort of like him.”
“Hold that thought. You two are going to be working together for quite
a long time.”
“How do you know that?”
I couldn’t resist it.
“I have my sources.” I threw his clever remark back into his own
teeth.
“I want you to go to Trellheim and take Barak in hand. He’ll never be
a really competent spy, but he needs to know what’s going on in the
world. He’s only nineteen, and he needs educating.”
“I’ll have to clear this with Javelin first.”
“Forget about Javelin. I’ll tell him what he needs to know. From now
on, you’re working for me. When I call you, I want you to come
immediately, and when I tell you to do something, I want you to do it.
No arguments. No questions. What we’re involved in is the most
important thing since the cracking of the world, and you’re going to be
in it up to your pointed nose.”
“Well, now,” he said. Then he gave me a shrewd look.
“It’s finally come, then, hasn’t it?”
“That it has, my young friend.”
“Are we going to win?”
“We’re certainly going to try.”
When we got to Tol Honeth, Beldin was waiting for me at the Drasnian
embassy.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded of him. I wasn’t particularly
gracious about it.
“You’re in a sour mood,” my brother noted.
“I got a nasty surprise a few days ago. Ctuchik’s devised a way to
make ordinary Murgos resemble Chamdar. I’ve been counting on Drasnian
intelligence to keep an eye on him for me, but that was a mistake.
They’ve spent centuries watching the wrong people.”
Beldin whistled.
“That’s something we didn’t expect. I told you that you ought to do
your own work. You do realize that you’ve given Chamdar an absolutely
free rein with this laziness of yours, don’t you?”
“Don’t beat it into the ground, Beldin. I blundered. It happens.”
“You’d better hustle your behind back to Sendaria. Pol’s out there all
alone, and you haven’t got the faintest idea of where Chamdar really
is.”
“Where is she?”
“I was just getting to that–it’s why I’m here, actually. The twins
called me back to the Vale and sent me out to find you. She left that
house of hers at Erat last week.”
“Where’d she go?”
“There’s a village called Upper Gralt south of Erat. Pol’s at the farm
of a man named Faldor about ten leagues west of there. She’s working
in his kitchen, and she’s got the baby there with her. You’d better
get up there and warn her that Chamdar’s on the loose.”
“You’re probably right,” I agreed glumly.
“I’ve made a pretty thorough mess of things so far, haven’t I?”
“You haven’t exactly covered yourself with glory. Is the Guide as good
as the Mrin says he’s going to be?”
“Close. I’ll probably have to hone his edge a bit, though.”
“Does he know what’s really going on?”
“He’s made some educated guesses that aren’t too far off the mark.”
“Are the rest of them in place?”
“I’m missing the Mother of the Race That Died, but I’m sure she’ll turn
up when we need her.”
“Optimism’s all well and good, Belgarath, but sometimes you carry it to
extremes.”
“Are you going back to the Vale?”
“No. I’d better get back to southern Cthol Murgos. Torak could be
waking up at any time now, and somebody’s got to keep an eye on him.”
“Right, and I’ll get on up to Sendaria.”
“Have a nice trip.”
I dusted off my storyteller’s costume once again, and I left Tol Honeth
as soon as the gates opened the following morning. I’d passed through
the village of Upper Gralt a number of times over the years, so I knew
exactly where it was.
My search for Chamdar had proved to be a serious waste of time, but it
had led to the discovery of the ruse that had made it possible for him
to elude me so many times. I suppose that counts for something. I
didn’t really worry too much about the fact that he’d escaped me. I
was fairly certain that he’d show up again someday and that I’d be able
to deal with him once and for all.
I put all that behind me, though, and I took the Imperial Highway north
toward Sendaria and a place called Faldor’s Farm.
EPILOGUE
Captain Greldik was swinishly drunk when the one-armed General Brendig
and his men finally tracked him down to the waterfront dive in
Camaar.
“Ho, Brendig!” Greldik bellowed.
“You’d better come over here and get started! I’m already a long way
ahead of you!”
“What’s the fastest way to sober him up?” Brendig asked the bulky
sergeant standing just behind him.
“We could throw him in the bay, I suppose, sir. It’s winter, and the
water’s pretty cold. That might work.” The sergeant didn’t sound very
hopeful about it, though.
“Be sure you don’t drown him.”
“We’ll be careful, sir.”
The sergeant and his four Sendarian soldiers crossed the straw-covered
floor of the tavern, picked Greldik up bodily, and carried him outside,
ignoring his squirming and outraged howls of protest. Then they took
him out to the end of the wharf, tied a rope to one of his legs, and
threw him into the icy water.
Greldik was spluttering curses when he came to the surface. He still
seemed fairly drunk to Brendig.
“Let him swim around for a while,” he instructed the sergeant.
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant was a veteran of the Battle of Thull Mardu, a
solid, practical man who always seemed able to get things done, They
let Greldik flounder around in the bay for about five minutes and then
they unceremoniously hauled him out.
“What do you think you’re doing, Brendig?” Greldik demanded. His lips
were turning blue and his teeth were chattering.
“Getting your attention, Greldik,” Brendig replied calmly.
“We’ll be sailing for Riva in the morning, so I want you to be sober
enough to hold the right course.”
“And just why are we going to Riva?”
“Prince Hettar of Algaria brought some documents from Holy Belgarath to
the palace in Sendar a few days ago. We have to take them to King
Belgarion.”
“Couldn’t you find a ship in the harbor at Sendar?”
“Prince Hettar told me that Belgarath specifically asked for you. I
can’t for the life of me think why, but he seems to believe that you’re
dependable.”
Greldik was shivering violently.
“Can we go back inside?” he asked.
“It seems a little chilly tonight.” Water was dripping out of his
beard.
“All right,” Brendig agreed, “but no more drinking.”
“You’ve got a cruel streak in you, Brendig,” Greldik accused.
“So I’ve been told, yes.”
It took most of the rest of the night to round up Greldik’s sailors,
and they all seemed to be as drunk as their captain had been.
The ship was battered and none too clean. The sails were patched and
frayed, but General Brendig judged that she was sound. She was a
Cherek war-boat, but she had been modified slightly to carry cargo.
Brendig had a few suspicions about just where and how Greldik obtained
those cargoes; piracy was second nature to Chereks, he’d observed. The
crew wasn’t particularly spritely that morning, but they managed to row
out beyond the breakwater and then they set the sails. Greldik
himself, red-eyed and trembling, stood at the tiller. He held his