“Oh,” Garion said glumly. “I hadn’t thought about that, I guess.”
There was a light rap at the door, and Vetter entered carrying a sheaf of parchments. “The men have been dispatched to the south wharves, your Highness,” he reported. “You suggested that the matter was of some urgency, so I took the liberty of posting couriers on fast horses to central locations near the waterfront. As soon as anyone gets news of any kind, the word should reach us here within five minutes.” He glanced at Ce’Nedra. “I hope that will relieve some of her Majesty’s anxiety,” he added.
“Her—” Silk burst out, then controlled himself. He stared at his factor for a moment, then burst out laughing. “How did you find out, Vetter?” he asked. “I didn’t introduce anybody.”
“Please, your Highness,” Vetter replied with a pained look. “You didn’t engage me in this position to be stupid, did you? I’ve maintained certain contacts with my former associates in Mal Zeth, so I more or less know who your guests are and what your mission is. You chose not to mention the matter, so I didn’t make an issue of it, but you aren’t paying me to keep my eyes and ears closed, are you?”
“Don’t you just love Melcenes?” Velvet said to Sadi.
Sadi, however, was already looking at Vetter with a certain interest. “It may just happen that in time I’ll be able to resolve the slight misunderstanding I presently have with my queen,” he said delicately to Silk’s factor. “Should that happen, I might want to make you aware of certain employment opportunities in Sthiss Tor.”
“Sadi!” Silk gasped.
“Business is business, Prince Kheldar,” Sadi said blandly.
Vetter smiled. “There are these few documents, your Highness,” he said to Silk, handing over the parchments he carried. “As long as you’re waiting, I thought you might want to glance at them. A few require your signature.”
Silk sighed. “I suppose I might as well,” he agreed.
“It does save time, your Highness. Sometimes it takes quite a while for things to catch up with you.”
Silk riffled through the stack. “This all seems fairly routine. Is there anything else of note going on?”
“The house is being watched, your Highness,” Vetter reported. “A couple of Rolla’s secret policemen. I imagine they’ll try to follow you when you leave.”
Silk frowned. “I’d forgotten about him. Is there some way to get them off our trail?”
“I think I can manage that for your Highness.”
“Nothing fatal, though,” Silk cautioned. “The Rivan King here disapproves of random fatalities.” He grinned at Garion.
“I think we’ll be able to deal with the situation without bloodshed, your Highness.”
“Anything else I should know about?”
“The Consortium will make an offer on our bean holdings tomorrow morning,” Vetter replied. “They’ll start at three points below market and go as high as five above it.”
“How did you find that out?” Silk looked amazed.
“I’ve bribed one of the members.” Vetter shrugged. “I promised to give him a quarter point commission on everything over ten—a bit generous, perhaps, but we may need him again sometime, and now I’ll have a hold on him.”
“That’s worth a quarter of a point right there.”
“I thought so myself, your Highness.” Vetter laughed suddenly. “Oh, one other thing, Prince Kheldar. We have this investment opportunity.”
“Oh?”
“Actually, it’s more in the nature of a charitable contribution.”
“I gave at the office,” Silk said with an absolutely straight face. Then his nose twitched slightly. “It wouldn’t hurt to hear about it, though, I guess.”
“There’s a very grubby little alchemist at the university,” Vetter explained. “He absolutely swears that he can turn brass into gold.”
“Well, now.” Silk’s eyes brightened.
Vetter held up a cautioning hand. “The cost, however, is prohibitive at this time. It doesn’t make much sense to spend two pieces of gold to get back one.”
“No, I wouldn’t say so.”
“The little clubfoot maintains that he can reduce the cost, though. He’s been approaching every businessman in Melcena about the project. He needs a rich patron to underwrite the cost of his experiments.”
“Did you look into the matter at all?”
“Of course. Unless he’s a very skilled trickster, it appears that he actually can turn brass into gold. He has a rather peculiar reputation. They say that he’s been around for centuries. He’s got a bad temper and he smells awful— the chemicals he uses, I understand.”
Belgarath’s eyes suddenly went very wide. “What did you call him?” he demanded.
“I don’t believe I mentioned his name, Ancient One,” Vetter replied. “He’s called Senji.”
“I don’t mean his name. Describe him.”
“He’s short and mostly bald. He wears a beard—though most of his whiskers have been singed off. Sometimes his experiments go awry, and there have been explosions. Oh, and he has a clubfoot—the left one, I believe.”
“That’s it!” Belgarath exclaimed, snapping his fingers.
“Don’t be cryptic, father,” Polgara said primly.
“The prophecy told Garion that somebody was going to say something to us in passing today that was very important. This is it.”
“I don’t quite—”
“At Ashaba, Cyradis told us to seek out the clubfooted one because he’d help us in our search.”
“There are many men with clubfeet in the world, father.”
“I know, but the prophecy went out of its way to introduce this one.”
“Introduce?”
“Maybe that’s the wrong word, but you know what I mean.”
“It does sort of fit, Pol,” Beldin said. “As I remember, we were talking about the Ashabine Oracles when Cyradis told us about this clubfoot. She said that Zandramas has one uncut copy, Nahaz has another, and that this clubfoot has the third—or knows where it is.”
“It’s pretty thin, Belgarath,” Durnik said dubiously.
“We’ve got time enough to chase it down,” the old man replied. “We can’t go anywhere until we find out where Zandramas is going anyway.” He looked at Vetter. “Where do we find this Senji?”
“He’s on the faculty of the College of Applied Alchemy at the university, Ancient One.”
“All right, I’ll take Garion and we’ll go there. The rest of you might as well get ready to leave.”
“Grandfather,” Garion protested, “I have to stay here. I want to hear the word about Zandramas with my own ears.”
“Pol can listen for you. I might need you along to help persuade the alchemist to talk to me. Bring the Orb, but leave the sword behind.”
“Why the Orb?”
“Let’s just call it a hunch.”
“I’ll come with you,” Beldin said, rising to his feet.
“There’s no need of that.”
“Oh, yes there is. Your memory seems to be failing a bit, Belgarath. You forget to tell me things. If I’m there when you locate the Oracles, I’ll be able to save you all the time and trouble of trying to remember.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The University of Melcena was a sprawling complex of buildings situated in a vast park. The buildings were old and stately, and the trees dotting the close-clipped lawns were gnarled with age. There was a kind of secure serenity about the place that bespoke a dedication to the life of the mind. A calm came over Garion as he walked with the two old sorcerers across the green lawn, but there was a kind of melancholy as well. He sighed.
“What’s the problem?” Belgarath asked him.
“Oh, I don’t know, Grandfather. Sometimes I wish I might have had the chance to come to a place like this. It might be kind of nice to study something for no reason except that you want to know about it. Most of my studying has been pretty urgent—you know, find the answer, or the world will come to an end.”
“Universities are overrated places,” Beldin said. “Too many young men attend simply because their fathers insist, and they spend more time carousing than they do studying. The noise is distracting to the serious student. Stick to studying alone. You get more done.” He looked at Belgarath. “Have you got even the remotest idea where we’re going to find this Senji?”
“Vetter said that he’s a member of the faculty of the College of Applied Alchemy. I’d imagine that’s the place to start.”
“Logic, Belgarath? You? The next question that pops to mind is where we’re going to find the College of Applied Alchemy.”
Belgarath stopped a robed scholar who was walking across the lawn with an open book in his hand. “Excuse me, learned sir,” he said politely, “but could you direct me to the College of Applied Alchemy?”
“Umm?” the scholar said, looking up from his book.
“The College of Applied Alchemy. Could you tell me where I could find it?”
“The sciences are all down that way,” the scholar said, “near the theology department.” He waved rather vaguely toward the south end of the campus.
“Thank you,” Belgarath said. “You’re too kind.”
“It’s a scholar’s duty to provide instruction and direction,” the fellow replied pompously.