“Viscount Esca,” Silk said, bowing.
“My colleagues and I have stood in awe of your recent venture into the commodities market,” Esca said admiringly.
Silk’s eyes grew sly, and his long nose twitched. Then he assumed a pained expression. “A blunder, actually, my dear Viscount,” he said mournfully. “There’s little profit to be made in something as bulky as farm produce.”
“Have you been keeping abreast of the market?” Esca asked, his face taking on a transparent cast of neutrality, but his eyes filled with undisguised greed.
“No,” Silk lied, “not really. I’ve been upcountry, and I haven’t had the chance to talk with my factor as yet. I left instructions for him to take the first offer that comes along, though—even if we have to take a loss. I need my warehouses, and they’re all filled to the rafters with beans.”
“Well, now,” Esca said, rubbing his hands together, “I’ll speak with my colleagues. Perhaps we can make you a modest offer.” He had begun to sweat.
“I couldn’t let you do that, Esca. My holdings are virtually worthless. Why don’t we let some stranger take the loss? I couldn’t really do that to a friend.”
“But, my dear Prince Kheldar,” Esca protested in a tone verging on anguish, “we wouldn’t really expect to make a vast profit. Our purchase would be more in the nature of long-term speculation.”
“Well,” Silk said dubiously, “as long as you’re fully aware of the risks involved—”
“Oh, we are, we are,” Esca said eagerly.
Silk sighed. “All right, then,” he said. “Why don’t you make your offer to Vetter? I’ll trust you not to take advantage of my situation.”
“Oh, of course, Kheldar, of course.” Esca bowed hastily. “I really must be off now. Pressing business, you understand.”
“Oh,” Silk said, “quite.”
Esca waddled off at an unseemly rate of speed.
“Hooked him!” Silk chortled. “Now I’ll let Vetter land him.”
“Don’t you ever think about anything else?” Garion asked.
“Of course I do, but we’re busy right now and we didn’t have all morning to listen to him babble. Let’s move along, shall we?”
A thought occurred to Garion. “What if Zandramas avoided the city?” he asked.
“Then we’ll get our horses and check the coastline. She had to have landed somewhere.”
As they approached the north gate of Melcena, the press in the street grew noticeably heavier. Carriages and people on horseback began to become more frequent, and the normally sedate citizens began to move more rapidly. Garion and Silk found it necessary to push their way through the throng.
“Anything?” Silk asked.
“Not yet,” Garion replied, taking a firmer grip on the Orb. Then, as they passed a side street, he felt the now-familiar pulling. “She’s been here,” he reported. “She came out of that street—or went into it. I can’t quite tell which yet.” He went a few steps up the side street. The Orb tried to push him back. He turned around and rejoined his rat-faced friend. The steady pull of the Orb drew him toward the gate. “She went out this way,” he reported as they reached the arched opening.
“Good,” Silk said. “Let’s go back and get the others. And then maybe we can find out why Zandramas came to Melcena.”
CHAPTER FIVE
It seemed somehow that Cation’s impatience had communicated itself to Chretienne. The big gray stallion was restive as they left Silk’s house and rode into the street and he flicked his ears in irritation as Garion tried to curb him with the reins. Even the sound of his steel-shod hooves on the cobblestones came as a kind of restless staccato. As Garion leaned forward to lay a calming hand on the arched gray neck, he could feel the nervous quivering of his horse’s muscles under the sleek skin. “I know,” he said. “I feel the same way, but we have to wait until we’re outside the city before we can run.”
Chretienne snorted and then made a plaintive whinnying sound.
“It won’t take that long,” Garion assured him.
They rode in single file through the busy streets with Silk in the lead. The breeze swirling through the streets carried with it the dusty smell of autumn.
“What are all those buildings over there?” Eriond called ahead to Silk. The blond young man pointed toward a large complex of structures that seemed to be set in the center of a lush green park.
“The University of Melcena,” Silk replied. “It’s the largest institution of higher learning in the world.”
“Even bigger than the one in Tol Honeth?” Garion asked.
“Yes, much. The Melcenes study everything. There are branches of learning at that university that the Tolnedrans won’t even admit exist.”
“Oh? Such as what?”
“Applied alchemy, astrology, necromancy, fundamentals of witchcraft, that sort of thing. They’ve even got an entire college devoted to the reading of tea leaves.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I’m not, but they are.”
Garion laughed and rode on.
The streets of Melcena grew even busier, but there was a decorum to the bustle. No matter how urgent his affairs might be, a Melcene businessman was never so preoccupied that he didn’t have time for a friendly chat with one of his competitors. The snatches of conversation Garion heard as they rode along the boulevards ranged in subject from the weather to politics to flower arrangement. The major concentration that morning, however, seemed to be centered on the price of beans.
When they reached the north gate, the great sword strapped across Garion’s back began to pull at him. Despite Silk’s critical look, Garion had decided that he was not going out into the countryside without the sword. Zandramas had a way of leaving traps behind her, and Garion definitely did not want to walk into one of them unprepared. As they passed through the gate, he nudged Chretienne forward to ride beside Silk. “The trail seems to be following this road,” he said, pointing up a broad highway stretching off to the north.
“At least it doesn’t go across open country,” Silk said. “The ground gets a little marshy in spots up here, and I hate to ride through mud.”
Belgarath had said nothing since they had left Silk’s house, but had ridden along with an irritated expression on his face. Now he came forward to join Silk and Garion. He looked around to make sure that none of the local citizens were close enough to overhear what they were saying and then spoke to Garion. “Let’s go over it again—step by step this time. Exactly what did your friend say?”
“Well,” Garion replied, “he started out by saying that all the prophecies are cryptic in order to keep the information out of the wrong hands.”
“That makes a certain amount of sense, Belgarath,” Beldin said from just behind them.
“It might make sense,” Belgarath said, “but it doesn’t make things any easier.”
“Nobody promised you easy.”
“I know. I just wish they’d stop going out of their way to make it difficult. Go ahead, Garion.”
“Then he said that we’re only three days behind Zandramas,” Garion told him.
“That means that she’s left the island,” Silk noted.
“How did you arrive at that conclusion?” Belgarath asked.
“Melcena’s a big island, but not that big. You can ride from one end of it to the other in two days. She might have gone on to one of the northern islands, but if we’re three days behind her, she isn’t on this one any more.”
Belgarath grunted. “What else did he say?” he asked Garion.
“He said that there’s something else we have to do here— besides finding the trail, I mean.”
“I gather he wasn’t very specific.”
“No. He explained why not, though. He said if he told me what it was, the other prophecy could tell Zandramas certain things she didn’t know yet. That’s when he told me that she doesn’t know where the Place Which Is No More is, and that the location’s not in the Ashabine Oracles.”
“Did he give you any clues at all about this task of ours?”
“Only that somebody’s going to say something to us today that’s very important.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. All he said was that somebody was going to say something in passing that we shouldn’t miss. He said that we should be alert for that kind of thing.”
“Anything else?”
“No. That’s when he left.”
The old man started to swear.
“I felt pretty much the same way myself,” Garion agreed.
“He’s done as much as he can, Belgarath,” Beldin said. “The rest is up to us.”
Belgarath made a wry face. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m always right.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Well, first things first, I guess. Let’s find out where Zandramas went. Then we can start analyzing every casual remark we hear.” He turned in his saddle. “Keep your ears open today, all of you.” Then he nudged his mount into a trot.