DAVID EDDINGS – SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA

Atesca frowned. “Then the policy we discussed at Maga Renn is no longer in force?” he asked.

Zakath shrugged. “Policy changes from time to time,” he said. “At this point, I’m militantly indifferent about who wins an unimportant battle in this corner of the world. That may give you some idea of just how vital Belgarion’s mission is.” He looked at Garion. “Does that cover everything?”

“Except for the demons,” Garion replied. “They’re here in Darshiva, too.”

.Zakath frowned. “I’d forgotten about them. They’ll come to Urvon’s aid, won’t they?”

“Nahaz will,” Belgarath told him. “Mordja will help the Darshivans.”

“You’re going a little fast for me.”

“When Urvon showed up with Nahaz in tow, Zandramas raised a Demon Lord of her own,” the old man explained. “She went a little far afield for him, actually. Mordja is Lord over the demons in Morindland. He and Nahaz are evenly matched, and they’ve hated each other for all eternity.”

“Then it still appears to be a stalemate. Both sides have an army and they both have demons.”

“Demons are grossly unselective in their choice of victims, Zakath,” Polgara said. “They’ll kill anything that moves, and your own army’s here in Darshiva.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he conceded. He looked around. “Any suggestions?”

Belgarath and Polgara exchanged a long look. “I suppose it’s worth a try,” the old sorcerer shrugged. “He’s not fond of Angaraks, but He’s even less fond of demons. I think we’ll have better luck with Him if we go outside the camp, though.”

“Exactly who are we talking about?” Zakath asked curiously.

“Aldur,” Belgarath replied. He scratched at his cheek.

“Would it be safe to tell Him that you’d be very reluctant to go with us if your army was in danger?” he asked.

“I think you could say that, yes.” Zakath’s eyes widened. “Are you trying to say you can actually summon a God?” he asked incredulously.

“I’m not sure if summon is exactly the right word. We can talk with Him, though. We’ll see what He says.”

“You’re not really going to try subterfuge, are you, father?” Polgara asked the old man.

“Aldur knows what I’m doing,” he replied. “I couldn’t deceive Him if I tried. Zakath’s reluctance just gives us a starting point for the conversation. Aldur’s reasonable, but He’s always liked a good argument. You should know that, Pol. He helped to educate you, after all. Let’s see if we can talk with Him.”

“Would it be all right if I came along?” Eriond asked. “I need to talk with Him, too.”

Belgarath looked a bit surprised at that. He looked for a moment as if he were about to refuse, but then he seemed to change his mind. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Atesca, could you have your guards escort us as far as that ditch around the outside of the camp? We’ll go on from there alone.”

Atesca spoke with the guards at the door of the tent, and the three were allowed to leave without challenge.

“I’d give a great deal to witness this meeting,” Brador murmured. “Have you ever seen Aldur, Prince Kheldar?”

“A couple of times, yes,” Silk replied in an offhand manner. “Once in the Vale and then again at Cthol Mishrak when He and the other Gods came to claim the body of Torak after Garion killed Him.”

“I’d imagine that He took a certain satisfaction in that,” Zakath said. “Aldur and Torak were sworn enemies.”

“No,” Garion disagreed sadly. “No one took any pleasure in the death of Torak. He and Aldur were brothers. I think UL grieved the most, though. Torak was His son, after all.”

“There seem to be some fairly huge gaps in Angarak theology,” Zakath mused. “I don’t think the Grolims even admit the existence of UL.”

“They would if they ever saw Him,” Silk said.

“Is He really that impressive-looking?” Brador asked.

“It’s not so much the way He looks.” Silk shrugged. “It’s the sense of His presence. It’s overwhelming.”

“He was very nice to me,” Ce’Nedra objected.

“Everybody’s nice to you, Ce’Nedra,” Silk told her. “You have that effect on people.”

“Most of the time,” Garion corrected.

“I suppose we’d better start packing,” Durnik suggested. “I think Belgarath’s going to want to leave just as soon as he gets back.” He looked at Atesca. “Do you suppose we could get a few things from your stores?” he asked. “It’s a long way to Kell, and I don’t think we’ll be able to pick up much in the way of supplies here in Darshiva.”

“Of course, Goodman Durnik,” the general replied.

“I’ll make out a list of the things we’ll need, then.”

As Durnik sat down at the table to draw up his list, Atesca gave Silk a penetrating look. “We never did get the chance to talk about your recent venture in the commodities market, did we, your Highness?” he said.

“Are you considering a second career, Atesca?” Zakath asked him.

“Hardly, your Majesty. I’m quite happy as a soldier. Prince Kheldar recently did a bit of speculation in this year’s bean crop. The Bureau of Military Procurement went into a state of anguished consternation when they found out his asking price.”

Brador suddenly chuckled. “Good for you, Kheldar,” he said.

“That’s a peculiar attitude, Brador,” Zakath reproved him. “How would you like it if I took Prince Kheldar’s excess profits out of your budget?”

“Actually, your Majesty, Kheldar’s venture didn’t cost your treasury a thing. The members of the Bureau of Military Procurement are the greatest unhanged scoundrels in the empire. Some years ago, while you were busy in Cthol Murgos, they sent you a rather innocuous-looking document having to do with standardizing the prices of all the items they purchase for the army.”

“I remember it—vaguely. Their argument seemed to be that it would provide a basis for long-range planning.”

“That was on the surface, your Majesty. In actuality, fixing those prices provided them with a golden opportunity to line their own pockets. They could buy at below the fixed price, sell to the army at the legal rate, and keep the difference for themselves.”

“What is the fixed rate on beans?”

“Ten half-crowns per hundredweight, your Majesty.”

“That doesn’t seem unreasonable.”

“When they’re buying at three half-crowns?”

Zakath stared at him.

Brador held up one hand. “However,” he said, “by law, they have to sell to the army at ten—no matter what price they have to pay, so they have to make up the difference out of their own pockets. That might account for the anguish General Atesca mentioned.”

Zakath suddenly grinned a wolfish sort of grin. “What price were you asking, Kheldar?” he asked.

“I sold out to the Melcene Consortium at fifteen.” The little man shrugged, buffing his nails on the front of his tunic. “I’d imagine that they added a few points to that-reasonable profit, you understand.”

“And you controlled the entire bean crop?”

“I certainly tried.”

“I feel fairly sure that your Majesty will receive several letters of resignation from members of the Bureau,” Brador said. “I’d advise not accepting them until after all accounts are settled.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Brador.” Zakath looked speculatively at Silk. “Tell me, Kheldar,” he said, “how much would you take to suspend operations here in Mallorea?”

“I don’t really believe your Majesty’s treasury has that much money,” Silk replied blandly. “Besides, I’ve become a sort of necessity. The Mallorean economy was stagnant until I got here. You could almost say that I’m working for you.”

“Did that make any sense?” Zakath asked Brador.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Brador sighed. “In a peculiar way, it does. Our tax revenues have been rising steadily since Kheldar and his scruffy-looking partner began doing business here in the empire. If we were to expel him, it’s entirely possible that the economy would collapse.”

“Then I’m at his mercy?”

“To some degree, yes, your Majesty.”

Zakath sighed mournfully. “I wish I hadn’t gotten out of bed this morning,” he said.

Both Belgarath and Polgara looked troubled when they returned with Eriond close behind them. The blond young man, however, looked as unconcerned as always.

“What did He say?” Garion asked.

“He didn’t like it too much,” Belgarath said, “but He finally agreed. General Atesca, how many troops do you have here in Darshiva?”

“Several hundred thousand. They’re in enclaves like this one up and down the east bank of the Magan. The bulk of our forces are across the river in Peldane. We can summon them on short notice.”

“Leave them where they are. Once you’ve delayed Urvon long enough to allow the Darshivan army to catch up with him, withdraw all your men to this enclave.”

“It’s hardly big enough for that many men, Ancient One,” Atesca pointed out.

“You’d better expand it, then. Aldur has agreed to protect this enclave. He didn’t say anything about any of the others. Bring your men here. He’ll keep the demons away.”

“How?” Brador asked curiously.

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