"Us?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? How forgetful of me. I’ll be joining you."
"You most certainly will not!" Belgarath said.
"I hate to contradict you, Ancient One," she said regretfully, "but I'm acting on orders." She turned to Silk. "My uncle has been a little nervous about some of your activities during the past few years. He trusts you, my dear Kheldar—you must never think that he doesn't trust you— but he does sort of want somebody to keep an eye on you." She frowned. "I think that he's going to be quite cross when he hears about your midnight visits to the Honeth family."
"You know the rules, Liselle," Silk replied. "Bethra was one of our people. We don't let those things go."
"Naturally not. But Javelin prefers to order that sort of retaliation personally. Your somewhat hasty vengeance has robbed him of that opportunity. You're just too independent, Silk. He's right, you know. You do need to be watched." She pursed her lips slightly. "I must admit, though, that it was a very nice job."
"Now you listen to me, young lady," Belgarath said hotly. "I am not conducting a guided tour for the benefit of the Drasnian spy network."
She gave him a disarming little smile and fondly patted his bearded cheek. "Oh, come now, Belgarath," she said, her soft brown eyes appealing, "do be reasonable. Wouldn't it be more civilized—and convenient—to have me in your party rather than trailing along behind you? I am going to follow my orders, Revered One, whether you like it or not."
"Why is it that I have to be surrounded by women who won't do as they're told?"
Her eyes went very wide. "Because we love you, Immortal One," she explained outrageously. "You're the answer to every maiden's dreams, and we follow you out of blind devotion."
"That's about enough of that, Miss," he said ominously. "You're not going with us, and that's final."
"You know," the dry voice in Garion's mind mused, "I think I've finally isolated the difficulty I've always had with Belgarath. It's his pure, pigheaded contrariness. He doesn't really have any reason for these arbitrary decisions of his. He just does it to irritate me."
"Do you mean that she's supposed to go along?" Garion blurted, so startled that he said it aloud.
"Of course she is. Why do you think I went to all the trouble to get her to Tol Honeth before you all left. Go ahead and tell him."
Belgarath's expression, however, clearly showed that Garion's inadvertent exclamation had already told him that he had just been overruled. "Another visitation, I take it?" he said in a slightly sick tone of voice.
"Yes, Grandfather," Garion said. "I'm afraid so."
"She goes along then?"
Garion nodded.
"I love to watch his expression when he loses one of these arguments," the dry voice said smugly.
Polgara began to laugh.
"What's so funny, Pol?" Belgarath demanded.
"Nothing, father," she replied innocently.
He suddenly threw his hands into the air. "Go ahead," he said in exasperation. "Invite all of Tol Honeth to come along. I don't care."
"Oh, father," Polgara said to him, "stop trying to be such a curmudgeon."
"Curmudgeon? Pol, you watch your tongue."
"That's really very difficult, father, and it makes one look ridiculous. Now, I think we should make a few plans. While the rest of us are changing clothes and packing, why don't you and Garion go explain to Varana that we're going to have to leave. Think up some suitable excuse. I don't know that we necessarily want him to know about Silk's nocturnal activities." She looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Durnik and Eriond and Toth will see to the horses, of course," she mused, "and I have a rather special little job for you, Prince Kheldar."
"Oh?"
"Go wash—thoroughly."
"I suppose I should have my clothes laundered as well," he noted, looking down at his garbage-saturated doublet and hose.
"No, Silk. Not laundered—burned."
"We can't leave tonight, Lady Polgara," Ce'Nedra said. "All the gates of the city are locked, and the legionnaires won't open them for anybody—except on the Emperor's direct orders."
"I can get us out of the city," Velvet said confidently.
"How are you going to manage that?" Belgarath asked her.
"Trust me."
"I wish people wouldn't keep saying that to me."
"Oh, by the way," she continued, "I saw an old friend of ours today. A large group of Honeths were riding toward the south gate." She looked over at Silk. "You really must have frightened them, Kheldar. They had whole battalions of their soldiers drawn up around them to keep you at a distance. Anyway, riding right in the middle of them and looking every inch a Tolnedran gentleman was the Mallorean, Harakan."
"Well, well," Silk said. "Isn't that interesting?"
"Prince Kheldar," Velvet said pleasantly, "please do go visit the baths—or at the very least, don't stand quite so close."
CHAPTER SIX
A chill gray fog had risen from the river to shroud the broad avenues of Tol Honeth. The snow had turned to rain—a cold drizzle that sifted down through the fog, and, although the roofs and courtyards were still mantled in white, the thoroughfares and avenues were clogged with seeping brown slush, crossed and crisscrossed with the tracks of wagons and carriages. It was nearly midnight when Garion and the others quietly left the grounds of the Imperial Compound, and the few bands of holiday revellers they encountered in the streets were much the worse for drink.
Velvet, riding a chestnut mare and wrapped and cowled in a heavy gray cloak, led them down past the marble-fronted houses of the merchant barons of Tol Honeth, through the empty central marketplace and into the poorer quarters of the city lying to the south. As they turned the corner of a side street, an authoritative voice came out of the fog. "Halt!"
Velvet reined in her horse and sat waiting as a squad of helmeted and red-cloaked legionnaires armed with lances marched out of the rainy mist. "State your business, please," the sergeant in charge of the patrol said brusquely.
"It's not really business, dear fellow," Velvet replied brightly. "We're on our way to an amusement. Count Norain is giving a party at his house. You do know the count, don't you?"
Some of the suspicion faded from the sergeant's face. "No, your Ladyship," he answered. "I'm afraid not."
"You don't know Norry?" Velvet exclaimed. "What an extraordinary thing! I thought everyone in Tol Honeth knew him—at least he always says so. Poor Norry's going to be absolutely crushed. I'll tell you what. Why don't you and your men come along with us so that you can meet him? You'll adore it. His parties are always so amusing." She gave the sergeant a wide-eyed, vapid smile.
"I'm sorry, your Ladyship, but we're on duty. Are you certain that you're following the right street, though? You're entering one of the meaner sections of the city, and I don't recall any noblemen's houses hereabouts."
"It's a short cut,"Velvet told him. "You see, we go down through here, and then we turn left." She hesitated, "Or was it right? I forget exactly, but I'm sure one of my friends knows the way."
"You must be careful in this part of town, your Ladyship. There are footpads and cutpurses about."
"My goodness!"
"You really ought to be carrying torches."
"Torches? Great Nedra, no! The smell of the smoke from a torch lingers in my hair for weeks. Are you sure you can't join us? Norry's parties are so delightful."
"Give the count our regrets, your Ladyship,"
"Come along, then," Velvet said to the others. "We really must hurry. We're terribly late as it is. Good-bye, Captain."
"Sergeant, your Ladyship."
"Oh? Is there a difference?"
"Never mind, your Ladyship. Hurry along now. You wouldn't want to miss any of the fun."
Velvet laughed gaily and moved her horse out at a steady trot.
"Who is Count Norain?" Durnik asked her curiously when they were out of earshot of the patrol.
"A figment of my imagination, Goodman Du
rnik," Velvet laughed.
"She's a Drasnian, all right," Belgarath murmured.
"Did you have any doubts, Eternal One?"
"Exactly where are you taking us, Liselle?" Polgara asked as they rode on down the foggy street.
"There's a house I know, Lady Polgara. It's not a very nice house, but it's built up against the south wall of the city, and it has a very useful back door."
"How can it have a back door if it's up against the city wall?" Ce'Nedra asked, pulling the hood of her green cloak forward to shield her face from the rainy mist.
Velvet winked at her. "You'll see," she said.
The street down which they rode grew shabbier and shabbier. The buildings looming out of the fog were built of plain stone instead of marble, and many of them were windowless warehouses, presenting blank faces to the street.
They passed a rank-smelling tavern from which came shouts and laughter and snatches of bawdy songs. Several drunken men burst from the door of the tavern and began pummelling each other with fists and clubs. One burly, unshaven ruffian lurched into the street and stood swaying in their path.
"Stand aside," Velvet said coolly to him.
"Who says so?"
The impassive Toth moved his horse up beside Velvet's mount, reached out with one huge arm, set the tip of the staff he carried against the man's chest, and gave him a light push.
"Just watch out who you're shoving!" The drunken man said, knocking the staff aside.
Without changing expression, Toth flicked his wrist, and the tip of the staff cracked sharply against the side of the fellow's head, sending him reeling, vacant-eyed and twitching, into the gutter.
"Why, thank you," Velvet said pleasantly to the mute giant, and Toth inclined his head politely as they rode on down the shabby street.
"What in the world were they fighting about?" Ce'Nedra asked curiously.
"It's a way to keep warm," Silk replied. "Firewood's expensive in Tol Honeth, and a nice friendly fight stirs up the blood. I thought that everybody knew that."
"Are you making fun of me?"
"Would I do that?"
"He's always had a certain streak of flippancy in his nature, your Majesty," Velvet said.
"Liselle," Ce'Nedra told her quite firmly, "since we're going to be traveling together, let's drop the formalities. My name is Ce'Nedra."
"If your Majesty prefers it that way."
"My Majesty does."
"All right then, Ce'Nedra," the blond girl said with a warm smile.
They rode on through the unlighted streets of the Imperial City until they reached the looming mass of the south wall. "We go this way," Velvet told them, turning down a rainy street lying between the wall and a long string of warehouses. The house to which she led them was a stout, two-storey building, its stones black and shiny from the rain and fog, and it was set about a central courtyard and had a heavy front gate. Its narrow windows were all tightly shuttered, and a single small lantern gleamed over its gate.
Velvet dismounted carefully, holding her skirt up to keep its hem out of the slush. She stepped to the gate and tugged at a rope. Inside the courtyard a small bell tinkled. A voice from inside answered, and she spoke quietly for a moment to the gatekeeper. Then there was the sound of a clanking chain, and the gate swung open. Velvet led her horse into the courtyard, and the rest followed her. Inside, Garion looked around curiously. The courtyard had been cleared of snow, and the cobblestones gleamed wetly in the still-falling drizzle. Several saddled horses stood under an overhanging roof, and a couple of well-appointed carriages were drawn up to a solid-looking door.
"Are we going inside?" Ce'Nedra asked, looking about curiously.
Velvet gave her a speculative look, then turned to look at Eriond. "Perhaps that might not be such a good idea," she said.
The muffled sound of laughter came from somewhere inside, followed by a woman's shrill squeal.
One of Polgara's eyebrows went up. "I think Liselle is right," she said firmly. "We'll wait out here."
"I'm a grown woman, Lady Polgara," Ce'Nedra objected.
"Not that grown, dear."
"Will you accompany me, Prince Kheldar?" Velvet asked the little man. "The presence of an unescorted woman in this house is sometimes misunderstood."
"Of course," he replied.
"We won't be long,” Velvet assured the rest of them. With Silk at her side, she went to the door, rapped on its panels, and was immediately admitted.
"I still don't see why we can't wait inside where it's warm and dry," Ce'Nedra complained, shivering and pulling her cloak more tightly about her.
"I'm sure you would if you went in there," Polgara told her. "A little rain won't hurt you."
"What could possibly be that bad about this house?"
There was another squeal from inside followed by more raucous laughter.
"That, for one thing," Polgara replied.
Ce'Nedra's eyes grew wide. "You mean that it's one of those places?" Her face suddenly went bright red.
"It's got all the earmarks of it."
After about a quarter of an hour, a slanting cellar door at the rear of the rain-drenched courtyard creaked open, and Silk came up from below carrying a gleaming lantern. "We're going to have to lead the horses down," he told them.
"Where are we going?" Garion asked.
"Down to the cellars. This place is full of surprises."
In single file, leading their skittish horses, they followed down a slanting stone ramp. From somewhere below, Garion could hear the gurgle and wash of running water; when they reached the foot of the ramp, he saw that the narrow passageway opened out into a large, cavelike chamber, roofed over with massive stone arches and dimly lighted by smoky torches. The center of the chamber was filled with dark, oily-looking water, and a narrow walkway ran around three sides of the pool. Moored to the walkway was a fair-sized barge, painted black and with a dozen dark-cloaked oarsmen on each side.
Velvet stood on the walkway beside the barge. "We can only cross two at a time," she said to them, her voice echoing hollowly in the vaulted chamber, "because of the horses."
"Cross?" Ce'Nedra said. "Cross where?"
"To the south bank of the Nedrane," Velvet replied.
"But we're still inside the city walls."
"Actually, we're under the city wall, Ce'Nedra. The only thing between us and the river are two of the marble slabs that form the exterior facing."
There came then the clanking of a heavy windlass somewhere in the dimness, and the front wall of the subterranean harbor creaked slowly open, dividing in the middle and swinging ponderously on great, well-greased iron hinges. Through the opening between the two slowly moving stone slabs, Garion could see the rain-dimpled surface of the river moving slowly by with its far shore lost in the dripping fog.
"Very clever," Belgarath said. "How long has this house been here?"
"Centuries," Velvet replied. "It was built to provide just about anything anyone could desire. Occasionally, one of the customers wants to leave—or enter—the city unobserved. That's what this place is for."
"How did you find out about it?" Garion asked her.
She shrugged. "Bethra owned the house. She told Javelin about its secrets."
Silk sighed. "She even reaches out from the grave to help us."
They were ferried in pairs across the foggy, rain-swept expanse of the Nedrane to land on a narrow, mist-shrouded sand beach backed by a thicket of willows. When Velvet finally joined them, it was perhaps three hours past midnight. "The oarsmen will brush our tracks out of the sand," she told them. "It's part of the service."
"Did this cost very much?" Silk asked her.
"A great deal, actually, but it comes out of the budget of the Drasnian Embassy. Your cousin didn't like that too much, but I persuaded him to pay—finally."
Silk grinned viciously.
"We have a few hours left until daylight," Velvet continued. "There's a wagon road on the other side of these willows, an
d it joins the Imperial Highway about a mile or so downriver. We should probably travel at a walk until we're out of earshot of the city. The legionnaires at the south gate might become curious if they hear galloping."
They mounted their horses in the soggy darkness and rode through the willows, down onto the muddy wagon track.
Garion pulled his horse in beside Silk's. "What was going on in that place?" he asked curiously.
"Almost anything you could imagine." Silk laughed. "And probably a number of things you couldn't. It's a very interesting house with all sorts of diversions for people with enough money to be able to afford them."
"Did you recognize anybody there?"
"Several, actually—some highly respected members of the noble houses of the Empire."
Ce'Nedra, who rode directly behind them, sniffed disdainfully. "I cannot understand why any man would choose to frequent that sort of place."
"The customers are not exclusively male, Ce'Nedra," Silk told her.
"You can't be serious."
"A fair number of the highborn ladies of Tol Honeth have found all kinds of interesting ways to relieve their boredom. They wear masks, of course—although very little else. I recognized one countess, however—one of the pillars of the Horbite family."
"If she was wearing a mask, how could you recognize her?"
"She has a distinctive birthmark—in a place where it's seldom seen. Some years back, she and I were quite friendly, and she showed it to me."
There was a long silence. "I don't know that I really want to discuss this any more," Ce'Nedra said primly and nudged her horse past them to join Polgara and Velvet.
"She did ask," Silk protested innocently to Garion. "You heard her, didn't you?"
They rode south for several days in clearing weather. Erastide had passed virtually unnoticed while they were on the road, and Garion felt a strange kind of regret about that. Since his earliest childhood, the midwinter holiday had been one of the high points of the year. To allow it to pass unobserved seemed somehow to violate something very sacred. He wished that there might have been time to buy something special for Ce'Nedra, but about the best he could manage in the way of a gift was a tender kiss.
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