The Malloreon: Book 03 - Demon Lord Of Karanda

by David Eddings

  Arshag’s eyelids were drooping now, and he seemed barely able to hold his head erect.

  ‘If you have any more questions for him, Ancient One, you should ask them quickly,’ Sadi advised. ‘The drug is starting to wear off, and he’s very close to sleep again.’

  ‘I think I have all the answers I need,’ the old man replied.

  ‘And I have what I need as well,’ Polgara added grimly.

  Because of the size of the lake, there was no possibility of reaching the eastern shore before nightfall, and so they lowered the sails and set a sea anchor to minimize the night-time drift of their scow. They set sail again at first light and shortly after noon saw a low, dark smudge along the eastern horizon.

  ‘That would be the east coast of the lake,’ Silk said to Garion. ‘I’ll go up to the bow and see if I can pick out some landmarks. I don’t think we’ll want to run right up to the wharves of Karand, do you?’

  ‘No. Not really.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can find us a quiet cove someplace, and then we can have a look around without attracting attention.’

  They beached the scow in a quiet bay surrounded by high sand dunes and scrubby brush about midafternoon.

  ‘What do you think, Grandfather?’ Garion asked after they had unloaded the horses.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘The boat. What should we do with it?’

  ‘Set it adrift. Let’s not announce that we came ashore here.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ Garion sighed a bit regretfully. ‘It wasn’t a bad boat, though, was it?’

  ‘It didn’t tip over.’

  ‘Capsize,’ Garion corrected.

  Polgara came over to where they were standing. ‘Do you have any further need for Arshag?’ she asked the old man.

  ‘No, and I’ve been trying to decide what to do with him.’

  ‘I’ll take care of it, father,’ she said. She turned and went back to where Arshag still lay, once more bound and half asleep on the beach. She stood over him for a moment, then raised one hand. The Grolim flinched wildly even as Garion felt the sudden powerful surge of her will.

  ‘Listen carefully, Arshag,’ she said. ‘You provided the Demon Lord with women so that he could unloose an abomination upon the world. That act must not go unrewarded. This, then, is your reward. You are now invincible. No one can kill you—no man, no demon—not even you yourself. But, no one will ever again believe a single word that you say. You will be faced with constant ridicule and derision all the days of your life and you will be driven out wherever you go, to wander the world as a rootless vagabond. Thus are you repaid for aiding Mengha and helping him to unleash Nahaz and for sacrificing foolish women to the Demon Lord’s unspeakable lust.’ She turned to Durnik. ‘Untie him,’ she commanded.

  When his arms and legs were free, Arshag stumbled to his feet, his tattooed face ashen. ‘Who are you, woman?’ he demanded in a shaking voice, ‘and what power do you have to pronounce so terrible a curse?’

  ‘I am Polgara,’ she replied. ‘You may have heard of me. Now go!’ She pointed up the beach with an imperious finger.

  As if suddenly seized by an irresistible compulsion, Arshag turned, his face filled with horror. He stumbled up one of the sandy dunes and disappeared on the far side.

  ‘Do you think it was wise to reveal your identity, my lady?’ Sadi asked dubiously.

  ‘There’s no danger, Sadi.’ She smiled. ‘He can shout my name from every rooftop, but no one will believe him.’

  ‘How long will he live?’ Ce’Nedra’s voice was very small.

  ‘Indefinitely, I’d imagine. Long enough, certainly, to give him time to appreciate fully the enormity of what it was that he did.’

  Ce’Nedra stared at her. ‘Lady Polgara!’ she said in a sick voice. ‘How could you do it? It’s horrible.’

  ‘Yes,’ Polgara replied, ‘it is—but so was what happened back at that temple we burned.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The street, if it could be called that, was narrow and crooked. An attempt had been made at some time in the past to surface it with logs, but they had long since rotted and been trodden into the mud. Decaying garbage lay in heaps against the walls of crudely constructed log houses, and herds of scrawny pigs rooted dispiritedly through those heaps in search of food.

  As Silk and Garion, once again wearing their Karandese vests and caps and their cross-tied sackcloth leggings, approached the docks jutting out into the lake, they were nearly overcome by the overpowering odor of long-dead fish.

  ‘Fragrant sort of place, isn’t it?’ Silk noted, holding a handkerchief to his face.

  ‘How can they stand it?’ Garion asked, trying to keep from gagging.

  ‘Their sense of smell has probably atrophied over the centuries,’ Silk replied. ‘The city of Karand is the ancestral home of all the Karands in all the seven kingdoms. It’s been here for eons, so the debris—and the smell—has had a long time to build up.’

  A huge sow, trailed by a litter of squealing piglets, waddled out into the very center of the street and flopped over on her side with a loud grunt. The piglets immediately attacked, pushing and scrambling to nurse.

  ‘Any hints at all?’ Silk asked.

  Garion shook his head. The sword strapped across his back had neither twitched nor tugged since the two of them had entered the city early that morning on foot by way of the north gate. ‘Zandramas might not have even entered the city at all,’ he said. ‘She’s avoided populated places before, you know.’

  ‘That’s true, I suppose,’ Silk admitted, ‘but I don’t think we should go any farther until we locate the place where she landed. She could have gone in any direction once she got to this side of the lake—Darshiva, Zamad, Voresebo—even down into Delchin and then on down the Magan into Rengel or Peldane.’

  ‘I know,’ Garion said, ‘but all this delay is very frustrating. We’re getting closer to her. I can feel it, and every minute we waste gives her that much more time to escape again with Geran.’

  ‘It can’t be helped.’ Silk shrugged. ‘About all we can do here is follow the inside of the wall and walk along the waterfront. If she came through the city at all, we’re certain to cross her path.’

  They turned a corner and looked down another muddy street toward the lake shore where fishnets hung over long poles. They slogged through the mud until they reached the street that ran along the shoreline where floating docks reached out into the lake and then followed it along the water front.

  There was a certain amount of activity here. A number of sailors dressed in faded blue tunics were hauling a large boat half-full of water up onto the shore with a great deal of shouting and contradictory orders. Here and there on the docks, groups of fishermen in rusty brown sat mending nets, and farther on along the street several loiterers in fur vests and leggings sat on the log stoop in front of a sour-smelling tavern, drinking from cheap tin cups. A blowzy young woman with frizzy orange hair and a pockmarked face leaned out of a second-storey window, calling to passersby in a voice she tried to make seductive, but which Garion found to be merely coarse.

  ‘Busy place,’ Silk murmured.

  Garion grunted, and they moved on along the littered street.

  Coming from the other direction, they saw a group of armed men. Though they all wore helmets of one kind or another, the rest of their clothing was of mismatched colors and could by no stretch of the imagination be called uniforms. Their self-important swagger, however, clearly indicated that they were either soldiers or some kind of police.

  ‘You two! Halt!’ one of them barked as they came abreast of Garion and Silk.

  ‘Is there some problem, sir?’ Silk asked ingratiatingly.

  ‘I haven’t seen you here before,’ the man said, his hand on his sword hilt. He was a tall fellow with lank red hair poking out from under his helmet. ‘Identify yourselves.’

  ‘My name is Saldas,’ Silk lied. ‘This is Kvasta.’ He pointed at Garion. ‘We�
�re strangers here in Karand.’

  ‘What’s your business here—and where do you come from?’

  ‘We’re from Dorikan in Jenno,’ Silk told him, ‘and we’re here looking for my older brother. He sailed out from the village of Dashun on the other side of the lake awhile back and hasn’t returned.’

  The redheaded man looked suspicious.

  ‘We talked with a fellow near the north gate,’ Silk continued, ‘and he told us that there was a boat that sank in a storm just off the docks here.’ His face took on a melancholy expression. ‘The time would have been just about right, I think, and the description he gave us of the boat matched the one my brother was sailing. Have you by any chance heard about it, sir?’ The little man sounded very sincere.

  Some of the suspicion faded from the red-haired man’s face. ‘It seems to me that I heard some mention of it,’ he conceded.

  ‘The fellow we talked with said that he thought there might have been some survivors,’ Silk added, ‘one that he knew of, anyway. He said that a woman in a dark cloak and carrying a baby managed to get away in a small boat. Do you by chance happen to know anything about that?’

  The Karand’s face hardened. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘We know about her, all right.’

  ‘Could you by any chance tell me where she went?’ Silk asked him. ‘I’d really like to talk with her and find out if she knows anything about my brother.’ He leaned toward the other man confidentially. ‘To be perfectly honest with you, good sir, I can’t stand my brother. We’ve hated each other since we were children, but I promised my old father that I’d find out what happened to him.’ Then he winked outrageously. ‘There’s an inheritance involved, you understand. If I can take definite word back to father that my brother’s dead, I stand to come into a nice piece of property.’

  The red-haired man grinned. ‘I can understand your situation, Saldas,’ he said. ‘I had a dispute with my own brothers about our patrimony.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You say you’re from Dorikan?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. On the banks of the northern River Magan. Do you know our city?’

  ‘Does Dorikan follow the teachings of Lord Mengha?’

  ‘The Liberator? Of course. Doesn’t all of Karanda?’

  ‘Have you seen any of the Dark Lords in the last month or so?’

  ‘The minions of the Lord Nahaz? No, I can’t say that I have—but then Kvasta and I haven’t attended any worship services for some time. I’m sure that the wizards are still raising them, though.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be all that sure, Saldas. We haven’t seen one here in Karand for over five weeks. Our wizards have tried to summon them, but they refuse to come. Even the Grolims who now worship Lord Nahaz haven’t been successful and they’re all powerful magicians, you know.’

  ‘Truly,’ Silk agreed.

  ‘Have you heard anything at all about Lord Mengha’s whereabouts?’

  Silk shrugged. ‘The last I heard, he was in Katakor someplace. In Dorikan we’re just waiting for his return so that we can sweep the Angaraks out of all Karanda.’

  The answer seemed to satisfy the tall fellow. ‘All right, Saldas,’ he said. ‘I’d say that you’ve got a legitimate reason to be in Karand after all. I don’t think you’re going to have much luck in finding the woman you want to talk to, though. From what I’ve heard, she was on your brother’s boat and she did get away before the storm hit. She had a small boat, and she landed to the south of the city. She came to the south gate with her brat in her arms and went straight to the Temple. She talked with the Grolims inside for about an hour. When she left, they were all following her.’

  ‘Which way did they go?’ Silk asked him.

  ‘Out the east gate.’

  ‘How long ago was it?’

  ‘Late last week. I’ll tell you something, Saldas. Lord Mengha had better stop whatever he’s doing in Katakor and come back to central Karanda where he belongs. The whole movement is starting to falter. The Dark Lords have deserted us, and the Grolims are trailing after this woman with the baby. All we have left are the wizards, and they’re mostly mad, anyway.’

  ‘They always have been, haven’t they?’ Silk grinned. ‘Tampering with the supernatural tends to unsettle a man’s brains, I’ve noticed.’

  ‘You seem like a sensible man, Saldas,’ the redhead said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘I’d like to stay and talk with you further, but my men and I have to finish our patrol. I hope you find your brother.’ He winked slyly. ‘Or don’t find him, I should say.’

  Silk grinned back. ‘I thank you for your wishes about my brother’s growing ill health,’ he replied.

  The soldiers moved off along the street.

  ‘You tell better stories than Belgarath does,’ Garion said to his little friend.

  ‘It’s a gift. That was a very profitable encounter, wasn’t it? Now I understand why the Orb hasn’t picked up the trail yet. We came into the city by way of the north gate, and Zandramas came up from the south. If we go straight to the Temple, the Orb’s likely to jerk you off your feet.’

  Garion nodded. ‘The important thing is that we’re only a few days behind her.’ He paused, frowning. ‘Why is she gathering Grolims, though?’

  ‘Who knows? Reinforcements maybe. She knows that we’re right behind her. Or, maybe she thinks she’s going to need Grolims who have training in Karandese magic when she gets home to Darshiva. If Nahaz has sent his demons down there, she’s going to need all the help she can get. We’ll let Belgarath sort it out. Let’s go to the Temple and see if we can pick up the trail.’

  As they approached the Temple in the center of the city, the Orb began to pull at Garion again, and he felt a surge of exultation. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said to Silk.

  ‘Good.’ The little man looked up at the Temple. ‘I see that they’ve made some modifications,’ he observed.

  The polished steel mask of the face of Torak which normally occupied the place directly over the nail-studded door had been removed, Garion saw, and in its place was a red-painted skull with a pair of horns screwed down into its brow.

  ‘I don’t know that the skull is all that big an improvement,’ Silk said, ‘but then, it’s no great change for the worse either. I was getting a little tired of that mask staring at me every time I turned around.’

  ‘Let’s follow the trail,’ Garion suggested, ‘and make certain that Zandramas left the city before we go get the others.’

  ‘Right,’ Silk agreed.

  The trail led from the door of the Temple through the littered streets to the east gate of the city. Garion and Silk followed it out of Karand and perhaps a half mile along the highway leading eastward across the plains of Ganesia.

  ‘Is she veering at all?’ Silk asked.

  ‘Not yet. She’s following the road.’

  ‘Good. Let’s go get the others—and our horses. We won’t make very good time on foot.’

  They moved away from the road, walking through knee-high grass.

  ‘Looks like good, fertile soil here,’ Garion noted. ‘Have you and Yarblek ever considered buying farmland? It might be a good investment.’

  ‘No, Garion.’ Silk laughed. ‘There’s a major drawback to owning land. If you have to leave a place in a hurry, there’s no way that you can pick it up and carry it along with you.’

  ‘That’s true, I guess.’

  The others had waited in a grove of large old willows a mile or so north of the city, and their faces were expectant as Garion and Silk ducked in under the branches.

  ‘Did you find it?’ Belgarath asked.

  Garion nodded. ‘She went east,’ he replied.

  ‘And apparently she took all the Grolims from the Temple along with her,’ Silk added.

  Belgarath looked puzzled. ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘I haven’t got a clue. I suppose we could ask her when we catch up with her.’

  ‘Could you get any idea of how far ahead of us she is?’ Ce’Nedra asked.

  ‘Just
a few days,’ Garion said. ‘With any luck we’ll catch her before she gets across the Mountains of Zamad.’

  ‘Not if we don’t get started,’ Belgarath said.

  They rode on back across the wide, open field to the highway leading across the plains toward the up-thrusting peaks lying to the east. The Orb picked up the trail again, and they followed it at a canter.

  ‘What kind of a city was it?’ Velvet asked Silk as they rode along.

  ‘Nice place to visit,’ he replied, ‘but you wouldn’t want to live there. The pigs are clean enough, but the people are awfully dirty.’

  ‘Cleverly put, Kheldar.’

  ‘I’ve always had a way with words,’ he conceded modestly.

  ‘Father,’ Polgara called to the old man, ‘a large number of Grolims have passed this way.’

  He looked around and nodded. ‘Silk was right, then,’ he said. ‘For some reason she’s subverting Mengha’s people. Let’s be alert for any possible ambushes.’

  They rode on for the rest of the day and camped that night some distance away from the road, starting out again at first light in the morning. About midday they saw a roadside village some distance ahead. Coming from that direction was a solitary man in a rickety cart being pulled by a bony white horse.

  ‘Do you by any chance have a flagon of ale, Lady Polgara?’ Sadi asked as they slowed to a walk.

  ‘Are you thirsty?’

  ‘Oh, it’s not for me. I detest ale personally. It’s for that carter just ahead. I thought we might want some information.’ He looked over at Silk. ‘Are you feeling at all sociable today, Kheldar?’

  ‘No more than usual. Why?’

  ‘Take a drink or two of this,’ the eunuch said, offering the little man the flagon Polgara had taken from one of the packs. ‘Not too much, mind. I only want you to smell drunk.’

  ‘Why not?’ Silk shrugged, taking a long drink.

  ‘That should do it,’ Sadi approved. ‘Now give it back.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want any.’

  ‘I don’t. I’m just going to add a bit of flavoring.’ He opened his red case. ‘Don’t drink any more from this flagon,’ he warned Silk as he tapped four drops of a gleaming red liquid into the mouth of the flagon. ‘If you do, we’ll all have to listen to you talk for days on end.’ He handed the flagon back to the little man. ‘Why don’t you go offer that poor fellow up there a drink,’ he suggested. ‘He looks like he could use one.’