“What’s she saying?” Ce’Nedra asked.
“It wouldn’t translate,” Garion lied.
After the wolf had grown a little more at ease, Polgara boiled a number of herbs in a small pot, mixed them with a paste of soap and sugar, and applied the poultice to the wolfs injured paw. Then she wrapped the paw in a clean white cloth. “Try not to lick this or chew it off, little sister,” she instructed. “It will not taste good and it needs to stay where it is to heal your hurt.”
“One is grateful,” the wolf replied. She looked into the dancing flames of the fire. “That is a comforting thing, is it not?” she observed.
“We find it so,” Polgara said.
“You man-things are very clever with your forepaws.”
“They’re useful,” Polgara agreed. She took the sleeping puppy from Garion’s arms and nestled him beside his mother.
“I will sleep now,” the wolf decided. She laid her muzzle protectively on her puppy’s flank and closed her eyes.
Durnik motioned to Garion and led him aside. “I think I’ve come up with a way to bring her along without frightening the horses,” he said. “I can make a sort of sled for her to ride in. I’ll put a long enough towrope on it to keep her smell away from them, and I’ll cover her and her puppy with an old horse blanket. She might make them a little jumpy at first, but they’ll get used to her.” The smith looked gravely at his friend. “Why are we doing this, Garion?” he asked.
“I couldn’t bear the thought of just leaving the two of them here. They’d have both died before the week was out.”
“You’re a good man,” Durnik said simply, putting his hand on Garion’s shoulder. “You’re decent as well as brave.”
“I’m a Sendar.” Garion shrugged. “We’re all like that.”
“But you’re not actually a Sendar, you know.”
“That’s how I was raised, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
The sled Durnik contrived for the wolf and her puppy the next morning had wide-set runners and was built low to the ground so there was little chance of its overturning. “It might be better if it had wheels,” he admitted, “but I don’t have any wheels to work with, and it would take too long to make some.”
“I’ll ransack the next village we come to,” Silk told him. “Maybe I can find a cart of some kind.”
They rode out, slowly at first until they saw that the sled ran smoothly on the damp earth of the road, and then they moved on at their usual canter.
Silk was checking a map as he rode along. “There’s a fair-sized town just up ahead,” he told Belgarath, “I think we could use some up-to-date information about now, don’t you?”
“Why is it that you absolutely have to go into every town we pass?” Belgarath asked him.
“I’m a city dweller, Belgarath,” the little man replied in an offhand manner. “I get edgy if I can’t walk on cobblestones every so often. Besides, we need supplies. Garion’s wolf eats a great deal. Why don’t the rest of you go out in a wide circle around the place, and we’ll catch up with you on the other side?”
“We?” Garion asked him.
“You’re coming along, aren’t you?”
Garion sighed. “I guess so,” he said. “You always seem to get into trouble if we let you go off alone.”
“Trouble?” Silk said innocently. “Me?”
Zakath rubbed at his stubbled chin. “I’ll come, too,” he said. “I don’t look that much like the coins any more.” He glared briefly at Belgarath. “How can you stand this?” he demanded, scratching vigorously at his face. “The itching is about to drive me wild.”
“You get used to it,” Belgarath told him. “I wouldn’t feel right if my face didn’t itch.”
The place appeared to be a market town that had at some time in the past been fortified. It crouched atop a hill and it was surrounded by a thick stone wall with watchtowers at each corner. The pervading overcast that seemed to cover all of Darshiva made the town look gray and dismal. The gate was unguarded, and Silk, Garion, and Zakath clattered on through into what appeared to be a deserted street.
“Let’s see if we can find somebody,” Silk said. “If not, we can at least ransack a few shops for the food we’ll need.”
“Don’t you ever pay for anything, Kheldar?” Zakath asked with some asperity.
“Not if I don’t have to. No honest merchant ever passes up an opportunity to steal. Let’s push on, shall we?”
“This is a very corrupt little man; do you know that?” Zakath said to Garion.
“We’ve noticed that from time to time.”
They rounded a corner and saw a group of men in canvas smocks loading a wagon under the direction of a sweating fat man.
Silk reined in his horse. “Where are all the people, friend?” he called to the fat man.
“Gone. Fled to either Gandahar or Dalasia.”
“Fled? What for?”
“Where have you been, man? Urvon’s coming.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”
“Everybody in Darshiva knows it.”
“Zandramas will stop him,” Silk said confidently.
“Zandramas isn’t here.” The fat man suddenly bawled at one of his workers. “Be careful with that box!” he shouted. “The things in there are breakable!”
Silk led the others closer. “Where did she go? Zandramas, I mean?”
“Who knows? Who cares? There’s been nothing but trouble in Darshiva ever since she gained control of the country.” The fat man mopped at his face with a soiled kerchief.
“You’d better not let the Grolims hear you talking like that.”
“Grolims,” the fat man snorted. “They were the first ones to run. Urvon’s army uses Darshivan Grolims for firewood.”
“Why would Zandramas leave when her country’s being invaded?”
“Who knows why she does anything?” The fat fellow looked around nervously, then spoke in a quiet voice. “Just between you and me, friend, I think she’s mad. She held some kind of ceremony at Hemil. She stuck a crown on the head of some archduke from Melcena and said that he’s the Emperor of Mallorea. He’ll be a head shorter when Kal Zakath catches up with him, I’ll wager.”
“I’d like to put some money on the same proposition,” Zakath agreed quietly.
“Then she gave a speech in the temple at Hemil,” the fat man went on. “She said that the day is at hand.” He sneered. “Grolims of every stripe have been saying that the day is at hand for as long as I can remember. Every one of them seems to be talking about a different day, though. Anyway, she came through here a few days ago and told us all that she was going to the place where the New God of Angarak will be chosen. She held up her hand and said, ‘And this is a sign to you that I shall prevail.’ It gave me quite a turn at first, let me tell you. There were swirling lights under her skin. I thought for a while that there was really something significant about it, but my friend, the apothecary who keeps the shop next to mine, he told me that she’s a sorceress and she can make people see anything she wants them to see. That explains it, I guess.”
“Did she say anything else?” Silk asked him intently.
“Only that this New God of hers will appear before the summer is gone.”
“Let’s hope she’s right,” Silk said. “That might put an end to all this turmoil.”
“I doubt it,” the fat man said moodily. “I think we’re in for a long siege of trouble.”
“Was she alone?” Garion asked him.
“No. She had her bogus emperor with her and that white-eyed Grolim from the temple at Hemil—the one who follows her around like a tame ape.”
“Anyone else?”
“Only a little boy. I don’t know where she picked him up. Just before she left, she told us that the army of Urvon the Disciple was coming and she ordered the whole populace to go out and block his path. Then she left, going that way.” He pointed off toward the west. “Well, my friends and I, we all sort of looked at each other for a while, and then everybody grabbed up whatever he could carry and bolted. We’re not stupid enough to throw ourselves in the path of an advancing army, no matter who orders us to.”
“How is it that you stayed behind?” Silk asked him curiously.
“This is my shop,” the fat man replied in a plaintive tone. “I’ve worked all my life to build it up. I wasn’t going to run off and let the riffraff from the gutters loot it. Now they’re all gone, so it’s safe for me to make a run for it with whatever I can salvage. A lot of what I’ll have to leave behind won’t keep anyway, so I’m not losing very much.”