Since he wouldn't be able to recognize me anyway, I strode over, took a seat at the table next to his, and told the serving wench to bring me some supper.
After the Murgo'd exhausted the conversational potentials of the weather, he got down to business.
"You seem well acquainted here," he said to the half-drunk Sendar across the table from him.
"I doubt that there are ten people in all of Sulturn that I don't know," the Sendar replied modestly, draining his tankard.
The Murgo bought him another.
"It seems that I've found the right man, then," he said, trying to smile. Murgos don't really know how to smile, so his expression looked more like a grimace of pain.
"A countryman of mine was passing through here last week, and he happened to see a lady that took his eye." A Murgo even looking at a non-Murgo woman?
Absurd!
"We have some real beauties here in Sulturn," the Sendar said.
"My friend was in a hurry, so he didn't have time to introduce himself to the lady in question, but when he found that I was coming here, he begged me to find out what I could about her--where she lives, what her name is, whether she's married--that sort of thing." He tried to smile again, and this one wasn't any better than the first had been.
"Did he describe her to you?" the Sendar asked. What a dunce! Even if the Murgo's transparent fiction had been true, he'd have had a description.
In his case, however, he had no problem at all. Ctuchik had probably engraved a portrait of Polgara on the inside of his eyeballs.
"He said that she was quite tall and very beautiful."
"That describes a lot of the ladies here in Sulturn, friend. Did he give you any other details?"
"She has very dark hair," the Murgo said, "but the thing that really stood out in my friend's mind was the fact that she's got a white streak in her hair--just above her brow."
The Sendar laughed.
"That's easy," he said.
"Your friend's been taken with Mistress Pol, the aunt of Darion the cabinetmaker. He's not the first, but you might as well tell him to try his luck somewhere else.
Mistress Pol's not interested, and she goes out of her way to let people know that. She can blister the bark off a tree from half a mile away."
I swore under my breath. I was going to have to have a talk with Pol about that. What good did it do to hide if she didn't change her name, her appearance, or her temperament?
I didn't really need to stay any longer. The Murgo had what he wanted, and so did I. I pushed back my bowl of watery turnip stew, got up, and left.
The streets of Sulturn were nearly deserted, and a chill, gusty autumn wind howled around the corners of the solid stone houses. Heavy clouds covered the moon, and the few torches that were supposed to illuminate the streets were flaring and guttering as the wind tore at them. I didn't really pay too much attention to the weather, though. I was more interested in whether there might be another Murgo following me. I doubled back several times, circled around through the narrow, nearly dark streets, and came to Darion's cabinet shop from the far side.
It was after nightfall, so the shop was closed, but the lights in the windows of the living quarters upstairs clearly announced that Darion and his family were home. I didn't pound on the door. There wasn't any point in disturbing the neighbors. I picked the lock instead, went inside, and blundered around in the dark until I found the stairs. I went up them two at a time, fumbled around until I found the lock on the door at the top, and picked that one, as well.
The door opened into the kitchen, and I'd have recognized it as Polgara's even if I'd entered it somewhere on the far side of the moon. It was warm and cheerful, and it was arranged in that familiar way all of Polgara's kitchens have been arranged. Pol and her little family were eating supper at the kitchen table when I slipped into the room.
"Poll" I hissed sharply.
"We've got to get you out of here!"
She came quickly to her feet, her eyes blazing.
"What are you doing here, Old Man?" she demanded. So much for disguises, I guess.
Darion stood up. I hadn't seen him since he was a child. He was quite tall, and there was a certain bulkiness to his shoulders that reminded me of Dras Bull-neck.
"Who is this man, Aunt Pol?" he demanded.
"My father," she replied shortly.
"Holy Belgarath?" His voice was startled.
"That "holy" might be open to some question," she said dryly.
"I told you to stay away from me, father."
"This is an emergency, Pol. We've got to leave Sulturn right now.
Have you ever thought of hiding that white lock? It makes you awfully conspicuous, you know."
"What are you talking about?"
"There's a Murgo at an inn not a half mile from here. He's been asking after you. Worse yet, he's been getting answers. He knows exactly where you are. Gather up what you need, and let's get out of here. I don't know if he's alone or not, but even if he is now, he won't be for long."
"Why didn't you kill him?"
Darion's eyes went very wide.
"Aunt Poll" he gasped.
"How much does he know?" I asked, pointing at Darion.
"As much as he needs to know."
"That's a little vague, Pol. Does he know who he is?"
"In a general sort of way."
"I think it's time for a few specifics. You'd better pack a few things.
We can buy more in Kotu."
"Kotu?"
"There are too many Murgos snooping around here in Sendaria. It's time for you to move to one of the Alorn kingdoms. Throw some things together while I explain the situation to Darion and his wife."
"I still think you should have killed the Murgo."
"This is Sendaria, Pol, not Cherek. Dead bodies attract attention here. As soon as you're ready, I'll go buy some horses."
"Get a wagon instead, father. Selana's pregnant. I'm not going to let you bounce her around in a saddle."
"Congratulations, your Majesty," I said to Darion.
"What did you say?"
"Congratulations."
"No, the other--that "your Majesty" business?"
"Oh, Polgara!" I said irritably.
"This is ridiculous! How many other facts haven't you told him? Start packing, and I'll explain things to him." I turned back to the heir.
"All right, Darion, listen carefully--you, too, Selana. I won't have time to repeat this." I glossed over a number of things. As you may have noticed, this is a very long story. After about fifteen minutes, though, Darion and his wife at least knew that he was the heir to Iron-grip's throne and why we had to avoid Murgos.
"I can't just leave my shop behind, Ancient One," he protested.
"I'll set you up in business again once we get to Kotu. You'll have to abandon this one, I'm afraid."
"Go get a wagon, father," Pol told me.
"Where am I going to be able to buy a wagon at this time of night?"
"Steal one, then." Her eyes had gone flinty.
"I've got a two-wheeled cart," Darion said.
"I use it as a handcart to deliver furniture. It's a little rickety, but it's got two shafts. I suppose we could come up with some way to hitch a horse to it. It might be a bit crowded, but the four of us should fit in it."
I suddenly laughed.
"How very appropriate," I said.
"I didn't quite follow that."
"A very old friend of mine used to travel around in a rickety two-wheeled cart." Then I had an idea--a very good one, even if I do say so myself.
"I think a fire might be useful here," I suggested.
"A fire?"
"You're going to have to leave all this behind anyway, Darion, but we can still get some use out of it. A burning house causes a lot of confusion and attracts crowds of gawkers. That might just be the thing to distract the Murgo long enough to give us the time to get away."
"All my things are here!" Selana protes
ted.
"All my furniture, my bedding, my clothes!"
"That's the nice thing about leaving town in a hurry, dear child," I told her gaily.
"You get all new things when you get to where you're going. I'll buy you whatever you want when we get to Kotu. Frankly, I'd burn down this whole town if it'd help us evade that Murgo."
"I don't think it'll work, Ancient One," Darion said dubiously.
"I'm fairly well known here in Sulturn, and somebody's bound to see us leaving."
"I'll hide you three in the back of the cart," I told him.
"The only thing people are going to see is a humorous fellow in a rickety cart."
"Would that work?"
"It always has in the past. I'll go get my horse while you three finish packing." I went back downstairs and up the street to the inn. I stopped briefly to glance into the common room on my way to the stables. My Murgo was still there, and the tipsy Sendar was still talking to him. The Murgo evidently didn't intend to follow up on the information he'd received until morning. This was all working out better and better.
Polgara had improved on my plan during my absence. She had been very subtle about it, since I hadn't heard a thing, and if I hadn't heard it, I was sure that the Murgo--or Grolim, or whatever he was--hadn't heard her either. Three complete human skeletons were huddled together near one of the windows.
"Nice touch, Pol," I congratulated her.
"Just a little more confusion for your Murgo, father. If he believes that Darion, Selana, and I all died in the fire, he won't come looking for us."
"I'm sure Ctuchik'll be delighted to hear the news--at least until he goes back and rereads his prophecies. Then he'll probably turn our Murgo inside out."
"Wouldn't that be a shame?"
I put the three of them in the back of the cart and covered them with some blankets, and then I drove the cart out into the deserted street. I waited until we'd almost reached the north gate before I set fire to Darion's shop. I didn't start a big fire--just a baby one in a back corner. The shop had large stacks of seasoned lumber in it and wood shavings piled up in the corners, so my little fire had plenty to eat. It took awhile, but eventually it grew up.
The gates of Sulturn were unguarded. Sendars tend to be a little relaxed about security measures, so we were able to leave town unnoticed.
We were well out of town on the road toward Lake Medalia before a sudden column of flame announced that my baby fire had finally reached adulthood and broken through the roof of Darion's house.
As I said earlier, it was mid-autumn, and it was a cloudy, blustery night as I drove the cart north toward Medalia and on beyond that to Darine, where we'd be able to take a ship for Kotu in Drasnia.
There's another repetition for you, Garion. Remember the night when we left Faldor's farm? Except for the turnips, this trip was almost identical.
It took us perhaps two weeks to reach Darine, largely because we stayed off the main roads and because I didn't particularly hurry. I'd learned that from my Master. If you want to stay inconspicuous, don't make any quick moves. He'd used that disguise many times, and I doubt that anyone had ever remembered him for more than ten minutes after he'd passed.
When we reached Darine, Darion sold the horse and cart, and we took passage on a Sendarian merchantman bound for Kotu.
There weren't any Murgos in Drasnia, but trade along the North Caravan Route had resumed--once the Nadraks recovered from their disastrous adventure on the frontier during the twenty-fifth century--so there were occasional Nadrak merchants in Kotu. Nadraks didn't concern me as much as Murgos did, but I was still rather cautious. Darion objected when I set him up in business as a woodcarver instead of a cabinetmaker until I explained it to him.
"If you can make furniture, you can certainly carve wood, Darion," I told him.
"That fellow we evaded back in Sulturn is very likely to tell all his friends everything he found out about you, so a lot of unfriendly eyes are going to be investigating every cabinet shop in the Western Kingdoms. For your safety, your wife's, and your Aunt Pol's, it's time for you to go into another line of work."
"I suppose you're right, Ancient One," he agreed glumly.
"Look on the bright side, Darion," I told him.
"You can sell good wood carvings for almost as much as furniture, and you don't have to buy as much lumber."
I'd also changed their names and bullied Polgara into putting some dye on that conspicuous lock in her hair, although it didn't really work that well.
Then I decided that it was time for me to leave Kotu. I can't even whittle, so my presence in a woodcarver's shop might have been a little hard to explain. I said good-bye and sailed back to Darine, then proceeded to Muros and sat out the winter there before venturing into Ulgo land. I still wanted to meet the new Gorim, but not so much that I was willing to break my way through twelve-foot snowdrifts for the pleasure of his company.
I avoided the assorted monsters in Ulgoland the following spring by the usual expedient of going wolf. I suppose I could have gone falcon and flown instead, but there was no particular hurry, and I'm more comfortable as a wolf.
When I reached the ruins of Prolgu--although Prolgu isn't really ruined, only abandoned--I went to one particular house, announced my presence, and the Ulgos took me down into their dimly lighted caves and to the house of their new Gorim. The traditional home of the Gorim of Ulgo lies in a gloomy cavern. It's an oddly truncated, pyramid-shaped house on a small eyot in the center of a shallow lake where small trickles of water fall down from above, echoing through that great cavern with the melancholy sound of eternal regret. I think the regret may be that of UL Himself. The Ulgos have lived in the dark for so long that daylight fright ens them and the sun is an agony to their eyes. That island with its marble columns and pale, sunless shore seems more appropriate for a gathering of ghosts than for humans. Add to that the fact that the perpetual echoes in those caves makes it necessary for Ulgos to speak very softly. It makes a visit to Ulgoland much like a vacation in a mausoleum.
I liked the new Gorim, though. He was a gentle, saintly man, and he and I got on well together. As it turned out, however, I wasn't the only visitor in Prolgu just then. A fellow named Horban, a member of the Tolnedran diplomatic corps, had arrived a bit earlier. The Second Horbite Dynasty was in power in Tol Honeth, and the persistent rumors that Ulgo land actually had people living in it as well as the monsters had piqued the curiosity of Ran Horb XVI. He'd sent his cousin Horban to investigate and to explore the possible opportunities for trade. You know how Tolnedrans are.
"He's woefully uneducated, Belgarath," Gorim told me.
"He has absolutely no sense of what's really happening in the world. Would you believe that he didn't even know of the existence of UL when he got here?"
"The Tolnedrans are a worldly people, Holy Gorim," I explained.
"Their Nedra's the most secular of all the Gods."
The Gorim sighed.
"Truly," he agreed.
"What should we do with this man, Belgarath? All he can talk about is exchanging useless trinkets. He calls it "trade," and it seems to be a part of his religion."
I laughed.
"I suppose you might as well humor him, Gorim. You'll never get any peace if you don't. Let the Tolnedrans come to that valley at the foot of your mountain, and then have your people go down there once in a while and exchange a few trinkets with them. If I'm reading the prophecies right, the time's going to come when we'll all be fighting Angaraks. The Tolnedran legions are going to be involved, so we'd better let them get used to the idea that you're here. The discovery of an untapped market might distract them."
"Oh," he said then, "before I forget, I have a message for you."
"A message?"
"From the Seers of Kell." He smiled a bit wryly.
"We'd thought that all connection with our Dallish cousins had been severed long ago, but the Dals aren't like other people. Eons have passed since our last contacts, b
ut they reminded us that we're still kinsmen."
"Are you saying that one of the Seers actually came here to Prolgu?
Kell's half a world away."
He shook his head.
"It was an illusion. Ancient One. The Seers have abilities we cannot even comprehend. I woke up one morning to find a blindfolded man sitting at my table with a huge mute hovering behind him. The blindfolded man told me to advise you that the unification of Mallorea's nearly complete. The emperors are Angaraks, and their throne's in Mal Zeth, but the continent's largely ruled by the bureaucracy in Melcene. Even the Dals are being gathered into the affairs of the Mallorean Empire. The Seer told me to warn you that the time's coming closer when Torak will come out of his seclusion to resume his old authority."
I nodded.
"We'd more or less worked that out for ourselves. It's good to have some confirmation, though. We were baffled when Torak didn't invade right after the assassination of the Rivan King, but the One-eyed God evidently thinks long range. He's been biding his time at Ashaba, letting the Angarak emperors consolidate their hold on Mallorea. As soon as that's complete, he'll take command and mount an invasion."
"Are you making preparations?"
"My friend, I've been making preparations for Torak since the day he cracked the world. I've got a few surprises up my sleeve for him."
"The Seer also told me to warn you that Ctuchik's left Rak Cthol.
What can he possibly be up to?"
"He's looking for Polgara. He's had his Murgos out scouring the West in search of her for centuries. Apparently the old Hound's going to give it a try himself. You know what she's doing, don't you?"
He nodded.
"UL keeps me advised."
"I rather thought he might." I frowned.
"Why are we suddenly getting all this help from the Dals? They've maintained a position of strict neutrality since the beginning of time."
"We must assume that it's in furtherance of their task. In some way, they're going to be involved in the final EVENT."
I nodded glumly.
"That's all I need--somebody else to muddy the waters. They're muddy enough as it is."
I stayed in Prolgu for about a month, and then I went on over to Arendia to look in on several families I'd been watching for centuries.
Rivan Codex Series Page 52
