“Most certainly, Revered Jaharb—and what is it that you want me to do in Rak Hagga?”
“When you reach Rak Hagga, Kabach will leave you, and your task will be complete. Your entire service to me consists of concealing him within your party as you journey to Rak Hagga—a small thing, but your reward will be great.”
“The ship will certainly save me months of difficult travel on horseback, Revered Elder, but will I not have difficulty explaining my presence to the Malloreons if I have no slaves to sell in the mart at Rak Hagga?”
“You will buy slaves in Cthaka or Gorut. The Malloreons will have no reason to question you.”
“Forgive me, Revered Elder,” Sadi said with a slightly embarrassed cough, “but my purse is slender. That’s why my plan was to capture runaway slaves. They cost no more than the effort of running them down.”
Jaharb did not reply, and his probing eyes remained fiat and emotionless. He turned his gaze to Tajak. “Open that chest at the end,” he said.
Tajak moved quickly to obey. When he lifted the lid of the chest, Garion heard Ce’Nedra gasp involuntarily. The chest was filled to its very brim with bright red gold coins.
“Take what you need, Ussa,” Jaharb said indifferently. Then a faintly amused look flickered in his smoldering eyes. “But no more than you can hold in both your hands.”
Sadi gaped at the gold-filled chest, his eyes filled with greed and his face and shaven scalp sweating profusely. He looked at the red gold, then down at his own two rather delicately shaped hands. A sudden look of undisguised cunning came over his face. “Gold is heavy, most Revered Jaharb, and my hands are quite weak as a result of a recent illness. Might I have one of my servants gather up your most generous payment?”
“That’s not an unreasonable request, Ussa,” Jaharb replied, his eyes openly amused now. “But mind, no more than he can hold in his two hands.”
“Naturally,” Sadi said. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to overpay me.” He turned. “You there,” he said to Toth,
“go to that chest and remove a double handful of coins—and be certain that you take no more.”
Impassively Toth went to the chest and scooped out perhaps a half pailful of the gleaming red coins in his huge hands.
Jaharb regarded the nervously sweating eunuch for a long moment, his wrinkled face expressionless. Then quite suddenly he threw back his head and laughed a dusty laugh. “Excellent, Ussa,” he crooned softly. “Your mind is agile. I like that quality in those who serve me. It may be that you will even live long enough to spend some of the gold you have just so cleverly obtained.”
“It was merely a demonstration of my intelligence, Revered Jaharb,” Sadi answered quickly, “to prove to you that you made no mistake in selecting me. I’ll have him put the coins back if you wish—some of them, anyway.”
“No, Ussa. Keep them all. You will earn every one of them by the time you reach Rak Hagga, I think.”
“I am much honored to be of service to the Dagashi. Even if it were not for your open-handed generosity, I would be no poorer for having befriended you.” He hesitated, glancing quickly at Belgarath. “I have been told, Revered Elder, that the Dagashi know many things.”
“Few secrets are hidden from us in this part of the world.”
“Might I be so bold as to ask a question? A small thing, but one of some interest to me?”
“You may ask, Ussa. I will decide whether or not to answer after I hear the question.”
“I have an extremely wealthy customer in Tol Honeth, Revered Jaharb,” Sadi said. “He has an absolute passion for rare books and he would pay me a fortune for a copy of the Grolim Prophecies of Rak Cthol. Do you possibly know where I might find such a book?”
Jaharb frowned slightly, rubbing at his wrinkled cheek. “The Dagashi have little interest in books,” he said. “The volume you seek would certainly have been in the library of Ctuchik at Rak Cthol, but I’m sure it was lost when Belgarath the Sorcerer destroyed the city.” He thought a moment longer. “You might ask Agachak when you get to Rak Urga, however. The Temple library there is most extensive; since the prophecies deal with religion, Agachak is certain to have a copy—if one still exists.”
“I am profoundly grateful for the information, Revered Elder,” Sadi said, bowing again.
Jaharb straightened. “And now you and your servants will need to rest. You depart for Rak Urga at first light tomorrow morning. A room has been prepared for you.” He turned back to his bowl of grapes.
The room to which they were taken was quite large. The stone walls had been whitewashed to enhance the dim light which lay over the city of the assassins, but the furnishings were rudimentary at best, consisting only of a low stone table and heaps of cushions.
As soon as the black-robed Tajak left them alone, Garion pulled off his green slaver’s robe. “Grandfather,” he said, “what are we going to do? We can’t go to Rak Urga. If we’re ever going to catch Zandramas, we’re going to have to get to Verkat as soon as we can.”
The old man sprawled in a pile of cushions. “Actually, Garion, things couldn’t have worked out better for us. Once we have the ship that Agachak and Urgit have waiting for us, we can sail directly on to Verkat. That’s going to save us months of difficult travel.”
“But won’t the Dagashi—this Kabach who’s waiting at Rak Urga—object if we don’t land where Jaharb said we were going to?”
Sadi unlatched his leather case. “Set your mind at ease, Belgarion.” He took out a small vial containing a thick blue liquid and held it up. “Two drops of this in his food and he’ll be so happy that he won’t care where we’re going.”
“You’re a very versatile fellow, Sadi,” Belgarath said. “How did you know that I was looking for the Prophecies of the Western Grolims?”
Sadi shrugged. “It wasn’t hard to deduce, Ancient One. A part of the arrangement between Sariss and Naradas involved the burning of the only copy of that book in the palace library at Sthiss Tor. If Zandramas wanted it destroyed, it was fairly obvious that she didn’t want you to get your hands on it.”
“I’m starting to revise my opinion of you, Sadi. I still don’t entirely trust you, but you certainly can be useful when you set your mind to it.”
“Why, thank you, Ancient Belgarath.” The eunuch took out the small earthenware bottle.
“Are you going to feed that snake?” Silk asked.
“She does get hungry, Kheldar.”
“I’ll wait outside, then.”
“Tell me, Prince Kheldar,” Velvet said curiously, “what is the source of this peculiar aversion of yours toward reptiles?”
“Most normal people don’t like snakes.”
“Oh, they aren’t that bad.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
She opened her brown eyes very wide in an expression of exaggerated innocence. “Would I do that?”
He went out into the hallway muttering to himself.
Velvet laughed and then went over to join Ce’Nedra on the pile of cushions near the window. Garion had noticed that the two of them had grown quite close during the weeks since they had left Tol Honeth. Because Polgara had always seemed so totally self-sufficient, he had not fully realized the deep-seated need that most women had for the companionship of other women. As Sadi fed his little green snake, the two of them sat side by side on the cushions and brushed the dust of their journey out of their hair.
“Why do you tease him so much, Liselle?” Ce’Nedra asked, pulling her brush through her flaming locks.
“I’m getting even with him,” Velvet replied with an impish smile. “When I was a little girl, he used to tease me outrageously. Now it’s my turn.”
“You always seem to know just exactly what to say to offend him the most.”
“I know him very well, Ce’Nedra. I’ve been watching him for years now. I know every single one of his weaknesses and I know exactly where he’s the most sensitive.” The blond girl’s eyes grew soft. “He’s a legend in Drasnia, you know. At the Academy, whole seminars are devoted to his exploits. We all try to emulate him, but none of us has his outrageous flair.”
Ce’Nedra stopped brushing and gave her friend a long, speculative look.
“Yes?” Velvet said, returning the look.
“Oh, nothing,” Ce’Nedra said and went back to brushing her hair.
The desert night was surprisingly chill. The air was so totally devoid of moisture that each day’s heat evaporated almost as soon as the sun went down. As they set out from Kahsha in the steely dawn light, Garion found that he was actually shivering. By midmorning, however, the burning sun had once again turned the barren waste of Araga into an inferno. It was nearly noon by the time they reached the foothills along the western rim of the desert and began the climb that took them up out of that hideous furnace.