Sorceress of Darshiva

by David Eddings

  ‘I think it’s going to leak,’ Silk predicted.

  ‘All boats leak.’ Durnik shrugged. ‘We can bail the water out.’

  It took a great deal of effort and some fairly exotic rigging to get the barge back into the river again. Durnik leaped aboard and went forward with a torch to examine the patch. ‘A little trickle is all,’ he said with some satisfaction. ‘It’s nothing we can’t keep ahead of.’

  The fog grew steadily thicker as they loaded their packs aboard the barge. It was spring in this part of the world, and frogs sang lustily of love in the rushes at the river’s edge just upstream. It was a pleasant, drowsy sound. Durnik scouted several hundred yards downstream and found a shallow bank where the current had cut away the soil. He fashioned a ramp from the remaining lumber. They towed the barge down to the cut bank and loaded the horses on board.

  ‘Let’s wait until we have a little more light,’ the smith suggested. ‘Fog’s bad enough, but when you add darkness to it, it’s almost impossible to see where you’re going. Rowing this thing isn’t going to be so enjoyable that we need to paddle around in circles just for the entertainment of it.’

  ‘Couldn’t we rig a sail of some sort?’ Silk asked hopefully.

  ‘Easily,’ Durnik replied. He wet one finger with his tongue and held it up. ‘I’ll do that just as soon as you work out a way to make the wind blow.’

  Silk’s face fell.

  ‘While you’re doing that, I need to go talk with Ce’Nedra.’ He went back up the beach and gently shook Garion’s sleeping wife awake.

  ‘You know? Sometimes he has a very warped sense of humor,’ Silk observed.

  When the first light of day began to tinge the misty eastern horizon, they pushed out into the fog and took their places at the oars.

  ‘I don’t want to seem critical, Goodman,’ Sadi said to Durnik, who stood in the stern with his hands gripping the tiller, ‘but I’ve seen a lot of fog in Nyissa, and, once it’s fully daylight, you won’t have the faintest idea of where the sun is. How do you plan to keep your course?’

  ‘Ce’Nedra’s taking care of that,’ the smith replied, pointing toward the bow.

  The Rivan Queen was leaning over the portside intently watching a floating piece of wood attached to a long cord.

  ‘What’s she doing?’ Sadi asked, sounding a bit perplexed.

  ‘She’s watching the current. We’ll be quartering it, but as long as that cord stays at the same angle from the boat, we’ll be right on course. I put a mark on the rail to show her what the angle ought to be.’

  ‘You think of everything, don’t you?’ Sadi said, continuing to pull his oar.

  ‘I try. You can usually avoid problems if you think your way completely through a job.’

  Ce’Nedra raised one arm and pointed imperiously to starboard. She seemed to be taking her job very seriously. Durnik obediently moved the tiller.

  Once the eastern shore of the great river vanished in the fog, it seemed to Garion that time had stopped entirely. There was no real sense of motion, though he bent his back over his oar with monotonous regularity.

  ‘Tiresome, isn’t it?’ Silk said.

  ‘Rowing always is,’ Garion replied.

  Silk looked around, then spoke quietly. ‘Do you notice a change in Durnik?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Not really.’

  ‘What I’m getting at is that usually he’s so self-effacing that you almost forget that he’s around, but back there on the beach, he just sort of took charge.’

  ‘He’s always been like that, Silk. When we’re doing something he doesn’t know all that much about, he just follows along and keeps his eyes open; but when we come to something he knows about, he steps in and does what has to be done.’ Garion smiled affectionately back over his shoulder at his old friend. Then he looked slyly at Silk. ‘He also learns very fast. By now, he’s probably at least as good a spy as you are, and he watched you very closely while you were manipulating the bean market back there in Melcene. If he ever decides to go into business, I think you and Yarblek had better start keeping a close count on your tail feathers.’

  Silk looked a bit worried. ‘He wouldn’t really do that, would he?’

  ‘He might. You never really know about Durnik, do you?’

  As the sun rose higher, the fog diffused its light, and the world around them became a monochrome—white fog and black water with no hint at all that they were making any progress or, if they were, that it was in the right direction. Garion felt a bit strange, knowing that they were entirely at Ce’Nedra’s mercy. It was only her eyes on that cord lightly lying across an angled mark on the rail that kept them on course. He loved her, but he knew that she was sometimes flighty, and her judgment was not always the best. Her insistent little gestures to port or to starboard, however, showed no sign of hesitancy or lack of certainty, and Durnik obeyed them implicitly. Garion sighed and kept on rowing.

  About midmorning, the fog began to thin, and Beldin drew in his oar. ‘Can you manage here without me?’ he asked Belgarath. ‘I think we ought to know just exactly what we’re running into. There’s all sorts of unpleasantness going on in Darshiva, and I don’t think we’ll want to come ashore right in the middle of it.’

  ‘And you’re getting tired of rowing, right?’ the old man replied sarcastically.

  ‘I could row all the way around the world if I wanted to,’ the gnarled-looking little hunchback replied, flexing his oak-stump arms, ‘but this might be more important. Do you really want to beach this tub and find Nahaz waiting for you on the sand?’

  ‘Do whatever you think is right.’

  ‘I always do, Belgarath—even if it makes you unhappy sometimes.’ The grimy little gnome went forward toward the bow. ‘Excuse me, me little darlin’,’ he said to Ce’Nedra in an exaggerated brogue, ‘but I must be off now.’

  ‘I need you at that oar,’ she objected. ‘How can I keep the course if everybody runs away?’

  ‘I’m sure y’ kin manage, me little darlin’,’ he said, patting her cheek; then, leaving a ghostly laugh behind him, he disappeared into the fog.

  ‘You come back here!’ she shouted after him, but he was already gone.

  There was the faintest touch of a breeze then. Garion could feel it brushing across the back of his sweaty neck as he rowed. The fog eddied and swirled slightly, thinning even more.

  And then there were looming black shapes all around them.

  ‘Garion!’ Ce’Nedra exclaimed.

  A number of triumphant shouts came out of the rapidly dissipating fog. They were surrounded by ships that moved purposefully to block them.

  ‘Do we make a run for it?’ Silk asked in a tense, hoarse whisper.

  Belgarath looked at the ships moving to surround them his eyes like flint. ‘Run?’ he said. ‘In this tub? Don’t be ridiculous.’

  A boat had moved directly in front of them, and, as they drifted closer, Garion could see the oarsmen. ‘Mallorean soldiers,’ he noted quietly. ‘Zakath’s army.’

  Belgarath muttered a few choice oaths. ‘Let’s sit tight for a bit. They may not know who we are. Silk, see if you can talk us out of this.’

  The little man rose and went to the bow of their barge. ‘We’re certainly glad to see imperial troops in this region, Captain,’ he said to the officer commanding the boat blocking their path. ‘Maybe you can put a stop to all the insanity that’s been going on around here.’

  ‘I’ll need your name,’ the officer replied.

  ‘Of course,’ Silk said, slapping his forehead. ‘How stupid of me. My name is Vetter. I work for Prince Kheldar. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?’

  ‘The name’s familiar. Where are you going?’

  ‘Actually, we’re bound for Balasa down in the Dalasian Protectorates. Prince Kheldar has interests there—that’s assuming we can make our way across Darshiva. Things are in turmoil there.’ He paused. ‘I wonder, Captain, do you suppose you could spare us a few soldiers to act as an escort? I’m author
ized to pay quite handsomely.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ the officer said.

  Then an even larger ship emerged from the fog and moved alongside their patched and leaky vessel. A familiar face looked over the rail. ‘It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it, King Belgarion?’ General Atesca said in a pleasant, conversational tone. ‘We really ought to try to stay in touch.’ Atesca wore his customary scarlet cloak and a burnished steel helmet embossed with gold.

  Garion’s heart sank. Subterfuge was quite out of the question now. ‘You knew we were out here,’ he said accusingly.

  ‘Of course. I had people watching you on the Peldane side.’ The red-clad general sounded a bit smug about that.

  ‘I felt no presence,’ Polgara declared, pulling her blue cloak about her.

  ‘I’d have been very surprised if you had, my Lady,’ Atesca replied. ‘The men who were watching you are imbeciles. Their minds are as vacant as the minds of mushrooms.’ He looked distastefully out across the river. ‘You have no idea of how long it took me to explain to them what they were supposed to do. Every army has a few men like that. We try to weed them out, but even gross stupidity has its uses, I suppose.’

  ‘You’re very clever, General Atesca,’ she said in a tight voice.

  ‘No, Lady Polgara,’ he disagreed. ‘I’m just a plain soldier. No officer is more clever than his intelligence service. Brador’s the clever one. He’s been gathering information about your peculiar gifts from various Grolims since the battle of Thull Mardu. Grolims pay very close attention to your exploits, my Lady, and over the years they’ve amassed a great deal of information about your abilities. As I understand it—although I’m certainly no expert—the more acute a mind is, the more easily you can detect its presence. That’s why I sent those human turnips out to watch you.’ He looked critically at their boat. ‘That’s really a wretched thing, you know. Are you keeping it afloat by sorcery?’

  ‘No,’ Durnik told him in a flat, angry tone of voice, ‘by skill.’

  ‘I bow to your skill, Goodman Durnik,’ Atesca said a bit extravagantly. ‘You could probably work out a way to make a rock float—if you really wanted to.’ He paused and looked at Belgarath. ‘I assume we’re going to be civilized about this, Ancient One?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m willing to listen,’ Belgarath replied warily.

  ‘His Imperial Majesty feels a strong need to discuss certain matters with you and your companions, Holy Belgarath,’ Atesca said, ‘and I think I should advise you that you’re paddling this wreck of yours directly into the middle of a hornet’s nest. Sensible people are avoiding Darshiva right now.’

  ‘I’ve never pretended to be sensible.’

  Atesca laughed ruefully. ‘I haven’t either,’ he admitted. ‘At the moment, I’m trying to map out a military campaign to invade that most insensible region. May I offer you gentlemen—and your ladies—the hospitality of my ship?’ He paused. ‘I think I’ll have to insist,’ he added regretfully. ‘Orders, you understand. Besides, we might want to pool our information while we await the arrival of his Imperial Majesty.’

  ‘Is Zakath coming here?’ Garion asked.

  ‘I doubt that he’s more than a day behind me, your Majesty,’ Atesca replied, ‘and he’s aflame with the desire to have a long, long talk with you.’

  —What do we do, grandfather?—Garion’s fingers asked.

  —I don’t think we’ve got much choice at the moment. Beldin’s out there somewhere. I’ll let him know what’s happening. He’ll come up with something.—’All right, General,’ he said aloud. ‘I was getting a little tired of rowing anyway.’—Pass the word to the others—He motioned to Garion.—Let’s seem to go along—at least until we get to the Darshiva side.—

  Atesca’s ship, while not opulent, was comfortable. They gathered in the forward cabin, a room littered with maps and various-sized bits and pieces of parchment. As always, General Atesca was polite, but firm. ‘Have you had breakfast yet?’ he inquired.

  ‘We were a little rushed,’ Belgarath told him.

  ‘I’ll send word to the cook, then,’ Atesca said. He went to the door and spoke with one of the red-garbed guards posted outside. Then he came back. ‘While we’re waiting, why don’t we share that information I was talking about? I’d heard that you were going to Ashaba when you left Mal Zeth. Then you suddenly surface in Melcene, and now you’re halfway across the Magan to Darshiva. You people certainly move around.’

  —He already knows what we’re doing.—Silk’s fingers said to Belgarath. —There’s no point in trying to hide it.—

  ‘Please, Prince Kheldar,’ Atesca said in a pained tone, ‘don’t do that. It’s very impolite, you know.’

  Silk laughed. ‘Either your eyes are very sharp, General, or advancing age is making my fingers clumsy. In point of fact, I was merely suggesting to Belgarath that we’d made no secret of our reason for coming to Mallorea. Kal Zakath knew why we were here, so there’s no point in being coy about it.’ He gave Belgarath an inquiring look, and the old man nodded. Silk’s face grew serious, even bleak. ‘We went to Ashaba in pursuit of Zandramas—and King Belgarion’s son. Then we followed her across Karanda and on down to Jarot in northern Celanta. Her trail led to Melcene, so we followed her there. Then we came back to the continent.’

  ‘And you’re still on her trail?’ Atesca asked intently.

  ‘More or less,’ Silk lied smoothly. Then he sidestepped the issue. ‘We discovered at Ashaba that Urvon is totally mad now. I’m sure Kal Zakath will be interested in that. Anyhow, Urvon’s under the control of a Demon Lord named Nahaz. Zandramas has raised another Demon Lord named Mordja, and the two are fighting each other in Darshiva. I’d think a long time before I invaded that region, General. Nahaz and Mordja might prefer not to be interrupted.’

  ‘What happened to Mengha?’ Atesca asked suddenly. ‘I thought he was the one who was raising demons.’

  Silk smiled wryly. ‘Mengha was actually a Chandim priest named Harakan. He was Urvon’s underling for centuries.’

  ‘Was?’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s no longer with us. He met a little green snake named Zith and he lost interest in things shortly after that.’

  Atesca threw back his head and laughed. ‘I’d heard about your pet, your Excellency,’ he said to Sadi. ‘Do you suppose she’d accept a medal—Heroine of the Empire or something?’

  ‘I don’t think she’d really be interested, General Atesca,’ Sadi replied coolly. ‘Besides, if somebody tried to pin a medal to her, she might misunderstand.’

  ‘You’ve got a point there,’ Atesca said. He looked around a little nervously. ‘You do have her confined, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, General,’ Velvet assured him with a dimpled smile. ‘At the moment, she’s taking care of her babies. They’re absolutely adorable. Why don’t you show them to the general, Sadi?’

  ‘Ah . . .’ Atesca hesitated. ‘Some other time, perhaps.’

  ‘All right, General Atesca,’ Belgarath said, ‘we’ve told you what we’ve been doing. Now I think it’s time for you to share a bit of information with us.’

  ‘We haven’t really made a secret of our activities either, Ancient Belgarath. The emperor’s forces moved out of Mal Zeth, and we used Maga Renn as a staging area. I was instructed to lead the advance elements of the army down the Magan and to occupy Ferra. The idea was to cut off Zandramas’ reinforcements out of Darshiva so that Urvon’s army could annihilate the troops she had in Peldane. Then we planned to fall on Urvon—heavily. After that, we were going to cross the river and deal with whatever force Zandramas had left.’

  ‘Good plan,’ Silk said.

  ‘Unfortunately, it didn’t work. We’ve got Darshiva cut off, but one of Zandramas’ underlings went down into Gandahar and hired a sizeable body of elephant cavalry.’ Atesca frowned. ‘I think I’ll speak with his Imperial Majesty about that. I don’t really object to mercenaries, but the elephant herders of Gandahar are just a bit unselective when
it comes to hiring themselves out. At any rate, there was a battle in central Peldane yesterday, and elephants did what elephants usually do. Urvon’s army fled, but instead of running back towards Celanta, they outflanked the elephants and the rest of the Darshivan army, and they’re driving straight toward the Magan. If they get across into Darshiva, I’ll have my work cut out for me. I’ll have demons and Grolims and Chandim and Hounds and elephants and Karands and the whole army of Darshiva to deal with.’ He sighed mournfully. ‘This is not, I’m afraid, going to be the short, easy campaign I’d anticipated.’

  ‘Why not just let Urvon and Zandramas fight it out?’ Silk suggested.

  ‘Policy, Prince Kheldar. The emperor does not want to appear timid—or powerless—and he most certainly doesn’t want any army in Mallorea except his own to win any kind of a victory. It sets a bad precedent and it might give others certain ideas. Mallorea is not as monolithic a society as it might appear from the outside. Overwhelming imperial force is the only thing that holds us together.’

  ‘I approve of the reasoning,’ Silk agreed. ‘Stability is good for business.’

  ‘Speaking of that,’ Atesca said. ‘One of these days you and I are going to have to have a long talk about beans.’

  ‘Are you buying or selling, General Atesca?’ Silk asked impudently.

  ‘Let’s get down to cases, gentlemen,’ Polgara said. ‘General Atesca, what are the emperor’s plans concerning us?’

  ‘That’s for him to decide, my Lady,’ Atesca replied. ‘His Majesty doesn’t always confide in me. He was, however, quite distressed about the way you chose to abuse his hospitality in Mal Zeth.’

  ‘He knew where we were going,’ Garion said flatly, ‘and why.’

  ‘That’s likely to be one of the things he’ll want to discuss with your Majesty. It’s possible that the two of you might be able to work out an accommodation of some kind.’

  ‘Possible, but not very probable.’

  ‘That’s up to his Imperial Majesty, isn’t it?’

  The fog had lifted, but the sky over Darshiva was heavily overcast. As Garion stood in the bow of Atesca’s ship, he caught a scent that was hauntingly familiar. It was a compound of damp rust, stagnant water, and the musty smell of fungus. He peered ahead and saw a forest composed of dead white snags. His heart sank.