Ce’Nedra seemed to suddenly remember something. She looked at Garion, her eyes hungry. “You said that you saw Geran ‑when Zandramas tricked you.”
“A projection of him, yes.”
“How did he look?”
“The same. He hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him.”
“Garion, dear,” Polgara said gently. “That’s not really reasonable, you know. Geran’s almost a year older now. He wouldn’t look the same at all. Babies grow and change a great deal during their first few years.”
He nodded glumly. “I realize that now,” he replied. “At the time, I wasn’t really in any condition to think my way through it.” Then he stopped. “Why didn’t she project an image of him the way he looks now?”
“Because she wanted to show you something she was sure you’d recognize.”
“Now you stop that!” Sadi exclaimed. He was standing near the altar and he had just jerked his hand back out of Zith’s range. The little green snake was growling ominously at him. The eunuch turned toward Velvet. “Do you see what you’ve done?” he accused. “You’ve made her terribly angry.”
“Me?” she asked innocently.
“How would you like to be pulled out of a warm bed and thrown into somebody’s face?”
“I suppose I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll apologize to her, Sadi ‑just as soon as she regains her composure a bit. Will she crawl into her bottle by herself?”
“Usually, yes.”
“That might be the safest course, then. Lay the bottle on the altar and let her crawl inside and sulk a bit.”
“You’re probably right,” he agreed.
“ Are any of the other rooms in the house habitable?” Polgara asked Silk.
He nodded. “More or less. The Chandim and the Guardsmen were staying in them.”
She looked around at the corpse‑littered throne room.
“Why don’t we move out of here, then?” she suggested to Belgarath. “This place looks like a battlefield, and the smell of blood isn’t that pleasant.”
“Why bother?” Ce’Nedra said. “We’re leaving to follow Zandramas, aren’t we?”
“Not until morning, dear,” Polgara replied. “It’s dark and cold outside, and we’re all tired and hungry.”
“But‑“
“The Chandim and the Guardsmen ran away, Ce’Nedra ‑but we can’t be at all sure how far they went. And, of course, there are the Hounds as well. Let’s not make the mistake of blundering out into a forest at night when we can’t see what might be hiding behind the first tree we come to.”
“It makes sense, Ce’Nedra,” Velvet told her. “Let’s try to get some sleep and start out early in the morning.”
The little Queen sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” she admitted. “It’s just that‑“
“Zandramas can’t get away from me, Ce’Nedra,” Garion assured her. “The Orb knows which way she went.”
They followed Silk out of the throne room and along the blood‑spattered corridor outside. Garion tried as best he could to shield Ce’Nedra from the sight of the crumpled forms of the Guardsmen and Karands he had killed in his raging dash to the throne room of Torak. About halfway down the corridor Silk pushed open a door and held up the guttering torch he had taken from one of the iron rings sticking out of the wall. “This is about the best I can do,” he told Polgara. “At least someone made an effort to clean it up.”
She looked around. The room had the look of a barracks. Bunks protruded from the walls and there was a table with benches in the center. There was a fireplace at the far end with the last embers of a fire glowing inside. “Adequate,” she said.
“I’d better go look after the horses,” Durnik said. “Is there a stable anywhere on the grounds?”
“It’s down at the far end of the courtyard,” Beldin told him, “and the Guardsmen who were here probably put in a supply of fodder and water for their own mounts.”
“Good,” Durnik said.
“Would you bring in the packs with my utensils and the stores, dear?” Polgara asked him.
“Of course.” Then he went out, followed by Toth and Eriond.
“Suddenly I’m so tired that I can barely stand,” Garion said, sinking onto a bench.
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised.” Beldin grunted. “You’ve had a busy evening.”
“Are you coming along with us?” Belgarath asked him.
“No, I don’t think so,” Beldin replied, sprawling on the bench. “I want to find out where Nahaz took Urvon.”
“Will you be able to follow him?”
“Oh, yes.” Beldin tapped his nose. “I can smell a demon six days after he passes. I’ll trail Nahaz just like a bloodhound. I won’t be gone too long. You go ahead and follow Zandramas, and I’ll catch up with you somewhere along the way.” The hunchback rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. “I think we can be fairly sure that Nahaz isn’t going to let Urvon out of his sight. Urvon is ‑or was‑ a Disciple of Torak, after all. Even as much as I detest him, I still have to admit that he’s got a very strong mind. Nahaz is going to have to talk to him almost constantly to keep his sanity from returning, so if our Demon Lord went to Darshiva to oversee his creatures there, he’s almost certain to have taken Urvon along.”
“You will be careful, won’t you?”
“Don’t get sentimental on me, Belgarath. Just leave me some kind of trail I can follow. I don’t want to have to look all over Mallorea for you.”
Sadi came from the throne room with his red leather case in one hand and Zith’s little bottle in the other. “She’s still very irritated,” he said to Velvet. “She doesn’t appreciate being used as a weapon.”
“I told you that I’d apologize to her, Sadi,” she replied. “I’ll explain things to her. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Silk was looking at the blond girl with an odd expression. “Tell me,” he said. “Didn’t it bother you at all the first time you put her down the front of your dress?” She laughed. “To be perfectly honest with you, Prince Kheldar, the first time it was all I could do to keep from screaming.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
At first light the following morning, a light that was little more than a lessening of the darkness of a sky where dense clouds scudded before the chill wind blowing down off the mountains, Silk returned to the room in which they had spent the night. “The house is being watched,” he told them.
“How many are there?” Belgarath asked.
“I saw one. I’m sure there are others.”
“Where is he? The one that you saw?”
Silk’s quick grin was vicious. “He’s watching the sky. At least he looks like he’s watching. His eyes are open and he’s lying on his back.” He slid his hand down into his boot, pulled out one of his daggers, and looked sorrowfully at its once‑keen edge. “Do you have any idea of how hard it is to push a knife through a chain‑mail shirt?”
“I think that’s why people wear them, Kheldar,” Velvet said to him. “You should use one of these.” From somewhere amongst her soft, feminine clothing she drew out a long‑bladed poniard with a needle-like point.
“I thought you were partial to snakes.”
“Always use the appropriate weapon, Kheldar. I certainly wouldn’t want Zith to break her teeth on a steel shirt.”
“Could you two talk business some other time?” Belgarath said to them. “Can you put a name to this fellow who’s suddenly so interested in the sky?”
“We didn’t really have time to introduce ourselves,” Silk replied, sliding his jagged‑edged knife back into his boot.
“I meant what ‑not who.”
“Oh. He was a Temple Guardsman.”
“Not one of the Chandim?”
“All I had to go by was his clothing.”
The old man grunted.
“It’s going to be slow going if we have to look behind every tree and bush as we ride along,” Sadi said.
“I realize that,” Belgarath answered, tugging at one earlobe. “Let me think my way through this.”
“And while you’re deciding, I’ll fix us some breakfast,” Polgara said, laying aside her hairbrush. “What would you all like?”
“Porridge?” Eriond asked hopefully.
Silk sighed. “The word is gruel, Eriond. Gruel.” Then he looked quickly at Polgara, whose eyes had suddenly turned frosty. “Sorry, Polgara,” he apologized, “but it’s our duty to educate the young, don’t you think?”
“What I think is that I need more firewood,” she replied.
“I’ll see to it at once.”
“You’re too kind.”
Silk rather quickly left the room.
“Any ideas?” the hunchbacked Beldin asked Belgarath.
“Several. But they all have certain flaws in them.”
“Why not let me handle it for you?” the gnarled sorcerer asked, sprawling on a bench near the fire and scratching absently at his belly. “You’ve had a hard night, a ten‑thousand‑year‑old man needs to conserve his strength.”
“You really find that amusing, don’t you? Why not say twenty -or fifty? Push absurdity to its ultimate edge.”