The fog rose from the dark water in little tendrils, and the few lighted windows high in the towers of Sthiss Tor had a hazy unreality, like tiny golden candles seen in a dream. Issus rowed steadily, his oars making only the faintest of sounds.
Then from somewhere not far upstream, there was a sudden muffled outcry, followed by a splash and the gurgling sound of bubbles rising to the surface.
“What was that?” Sadi hissed nervously as Issus stopped rowing to listen.
“Be still,” the one-eyed man whispered.
From somewhere in the fog, there came the thumping sound of someone moving around in a boat, followed by the splash of an awkwardly pulled oar. A man swore, his voice harsh and loud.
“Keep quiet,” another voice said.
“What for?”
“Let’s not tell everybody in Sthiss Tor that we’re out here.”
“You worry too much. That rock I tied to his ankles will keep him down for a long time.” The creaking oarlocks faded off into the fog.
“Amateurs,” Issus muttered derisively.
“An assassination, perhaps?” Silk asked with a certain professional curiosity. “Or a private killing?”
“What difference does it make?” Issus started to row again, his oars dipping slowly into the water. Behind them Sthiss Tor had disappeared in the fog. Without the reference point of its dim lights, it seemed to Garion that they were not moving at all, but sat motionless on the surface of the dark river. Then, at last, a shadowy shore appeared ahead in the clinging fog; after a few more minutes, he was able to make out the hazy shape of individual tree tops outlined by the pale mist.
A low whistle came to them from the bank, and Issus angled their boat slightly, making for that signal. “Garion, is that you?” Durnik’s whispered voice came out of the shadows.
“Yes.”
Issus pulled their boat under the overhanging branches, and Durnik caught the bow. “The others are waiting on the far side of the road,” he said quietly as he helped Polgara from the boat.
“You’ve been most helpful, Issus,” Sadi said to his hireling.
The one-eyed man shrugged. “Isn’t that what you paid me for?”
Silk looked at him. “If you decide to consider my offer, talk to Droblek.”
“I’ll think about it,” Issus replied. He paused, then looked at Polgara. “Good luck on your journey, Lady,” he said quietly. “I get the feeling that you’re going to need it.”
“Thank you, Issus.”
Then he pushed his boat back out into the fog and disappeared.
“What was that all about?” Sadi asked Silk.
“Oh, nothing much. Drasnian Intelligence is always looking for a few good men, is all.”
Durnik was looking curiously at the shaven-headed eunuch.
“We’ll explain when we get back to the others, dear,” Polgara assured him.
“Yes, Pol,” he agreed. “We go this way.” He led them up the brushy bank to the broken stones of the road and then pushed his way into the tangled undergrowth on the far side, with the rest of them close behind him.
Ce’Nedra, Eriond, Toth, and Velvet sat in a little hollow behind the moss-covered trunk of a fallen tree. A single, well-shielded lantern gave forth a dim glow, illuminating the hollow with faint light. “Garion,” Ce’Nedra exclaimed with relief, coming quickly to her feet. “What took you so long?”
“We had to make a side trip,” he replied, taking her into his arms. As he nestled his face into her hair, he found that it still had that warm, sweet fragrance that had always touched his heart.
“All right,” Belgarath said, looking out into the tag end of the foggy night, “I want to get moving, so I’ll keep this short.” He sat down on the spongy moss beside the lantern. “This is Sadi.” He pointed at the shaven-headed eunuch. “Most of you know him already. He’ll be going with us.”
“Is that altogether wise, Belgarath?” Durnik asked dubiously.
“Probably not,” the old man replied, “but it wasn’t my idea. He seems to feel that Zandramas has gone down into southern Cthol Murgos and plans to cross the continent to the Isle of Verkat off the southeast coast.”
“That’s a very dangerous part of the world just now, Ancient One,” Velvet murmured.
“We’ll have no trouble, dear lady,” Sadi assured her in his contralto voice. “If we pose as slavers, no one will interfere with us.”
“So you say,” Belgarath said somewhat skeptically. “That might have been true before the war started down there, but we still don’t know for sure how the Malloreons view the slave trade.”
“There’s one other thing you should all know,” Polgara added quietly. “Garion and I went to the palace to find out if Salmissra was involved in this in any way. She told us that Zandramas is a woman.”
“A woman?” Ce’Nedra exclaimed.
“That’s what she said, and she had no reason to lie to us.”
Durnik scratched at his head. “That’s a bit of a surprise, isn’t it? Are you sure Salmissra knew what she was talking about?”
She nodded. “She was very certain—and quite smug about the fact that she knew something that I didn’t.”
“It does sort of fit,” Velvet said thoughtfully. “Most of the things Zandramas has done were done the way a woman would do them.”
“I can’t quite follow that,” Durnik admitted.
“A man does things one way, Goodman. A woman does them differently. The fact that Zandramas is a woman explains a great deal.”
“She’s also going to great lengths to conceal the fact,” Silk added. “She’s made sure that just about everybody who’s seen her isn’t alive to tell anybody about it.”
“We can talk about all this some more later,” Belgarath said, standing up and looking around at the gradually lightening fog. “I want to get away from this place before the people on the other side of the river start moving around. Let’s saddle the horses.”
It took a bit of readjustment of their equipment to free one of the pack horses for Sadi’s use, but a short time later they rode out from their sheltered place of concealment and on along the weedy track that followed the winding course of the River of the Serpent. They moved at first at a cautious walk, but once they had passed the outskirts of Sthiss Tor, lying hidden in the fog across the river, they picked up their pace to a canter, clattering along the abandoned road that stretched through the rank jungle and reeking swamps of the tend of the snake-people.
As the sun rose, it gave the fog surrounding them a kind of mystical glow, and the droplets hanging along the edges of individual leaves drooping from the undergrowth at the side of the road took on a jewel-like sparkle. Garion, sandy-eyed and tired from a night without sleep, looked bemused at the jeweled green leaves, marveling that such beauty could exist in this stinking swamp.
“The whole world is beautiful, Belgarion,” Eriond assured him in response to that unspoken thought. “You just have to know how to look at it.”
Once the fog had burned off, they were able to move at a much more rapid pace. They encountered no other travelers that day. By the time the sun began to sink into the heavy banks of purple cloud that seemed to hover perpetually over the western horizon, they were well upriver.
“How far is it to the Murgo border?” Garion asked Sadi as the two of them gathered firewood while Durnik and Toth set up the tents for their night’s encampment.
“Several more days,” the eunuch replied. “The highway fords the river up near the headwaters and then angles down toward Araga. There’s a village on the other side of the ford. I’ll need to stop there for a few things—suitable garments and the like.”
Velvet and Ce’Nedra were unpacking Polgara’s cooking utensils not far away, and the blond Drasnian girl looked over at Sadi. “Excuse me,” she said, “but I think I’ve discovered a flaw in your plan.”
“Oh?”
“How can we pose as slavers when some of us are obviously women?”
“But there are always women in any party of slave traders, my dear lady,” he answered, dropping an armload of firewood beside the stone-lined cooking pit. “I’m sure that if you think about it, you’ll understand why.”
“I certainly don’t,” Ce’Nedra declared.
Sadi coughed rather delicately. “We trade in female slaves as well as males, your Majesty,” he explained, “and a female who’s been guarded by women brings a higher price.”
A slow flush crept up her face. “That’s revolting.”
Sadi shrugged. “I didn’t make the world, your Majesty,” he replied. “I only try to live in it.”
After they had eaten, Sadi took an earthenware bowl, filled it with hot water, and began to lather his stubbled scalp.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Sadi,” Silk said from the other side of the fire. “Exactly what was it that you did to make Salmissra so discontented with you?”