"Oh, it is, Pol," he assured her. "I saw one jumping." He hesitated. "I mean—well, I just happened to notice it in passing, is all."
"Of course, dear."
He lowered his head slightly, much like an abashed schoolboy, but Garion could see the faint flicker of a smile playing about the smith's lips. It was almost with a shock that he realized that his plain, honest friend was far more devious than he sometimes appeared. Since Polgara enjoyed catching him in these little subterfuges so much, Durnik often arranged things so that she could catch him—just for the sake of the pleasure it gave her.
They set the tents back under the trees, not too far from the edge of the pond. As usual, the chore of gathering firewood fell to Garion and Eriond while Durnik and Toth put up the tents. Also, as usual, Silk and Belgarath disappeared until all the work was completed. Sadi sat chatting with Velvet and Ce'Nedra, and his contralto voice seemed somehow as feminine as theirs.
As Polgara began to busy herself with supper, Durnik looked critically around at the campsite. "I guess that's about it," he said.
"Yes, dear," Polgara agreed.
"Do you need anything else?"
"No, dear."
"Well, I suppose—" He glanced toward the pond.
"Go ahead, Durnik," she told him. "Just be sure to come back when supper's ready."
"Are you coming, Toth?" Durnik asked his friend.
As evening darkened their concealed basin, and the stars came out in the velvety sky overhead, they gathered about the fire and ate a supper consisting of lightly grilled lamb, steamed vegetables, and dark bread, all drawn from the supplies Vard had pressed upon them before they had left the village near the beach.
"A meal fit for a king, Lady Polgara," Sadi said expansively, leaning back.
"Yes," Garion murmured.
Sadi laughed. "I keep forgetting," he said. "You're such an unassuming fellow, Belgarion. If you asserted yourself a bit, people might take more note of your royalty."
"I couldn't agree more, Sadi," Ce'Nedra said.
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea at the moment," Garion told them. "Just now, I don't really want that kind of recognition."
Silk rose from the place where he had been sitting.
"Where are you going, Kheldar?" Velvet asked him.
"I'm going to have a look around," he replied. "I'll give you a full report when I come back, so that you can make note of it in the document you're preparing for Javelin."
"You're not taking this situation well at all, Prince Kheldar."
"I just don't like being spied on."
"Try to look at it as a friendly concern for your welfare. It's not really spying, if you consider it in that light, is it?"
"It amounts to the same thing, Liselle."
"Of course, but it doesn't seem quite so unpleasant that way, now does it?"
"Very clever."
"I thought so myself. Try not to get lost out there."
He went off into the darkness muttering to himself.
"How long do you think the soldiers will keep searching, Grandfather?" Garion asked.
The old man scratched absently at his bearded chin. "It's hard to say," he replied. "Malloreans don't have the same kind of brainless tenacity that Murgos do; but if the orders came from someone with enough authority, they probably won't give up until they've at least gone through the motions of making a thorough search."
"Several days, then?"
"At least."
"And all the time Zandramas is getting farther and farther ahead of us with my son."
"I'm afraid that can't be helped."
"Don't you think the slavers' robes would deceive them, Belgarath?" Sadi asked.
"I don't believe I want to take the chance. Murgos have seen Nyissan slavers moving around down here for so many years that they don't give them a second glance. Malloreans are probably more alert—besides, we don't know exactly what they're looking for. For all we know, they could be specifically looking for a group of slavers."
Silk quietly came back to the fire. "We've got company," he said. "I saw several campfires out there." He gestured off to the northeast.
"How close?" Garion asked quickly.
"Probably several leagues or so. I was up on top of that ridge, and you can see for quite a distance. The fires are pretty well spread out."
"Malloreans?" Durnik asked him.
"Probably. I'd say that they're making a sweep through the woods.”
"Well, father?" Polgara asked.
"I don't think we can make any decisions until daylight," the old man replied. "If they're just making a cursory pass, we can probably sit tight. If they're serious about it, we might have to think of something else. We'd all better get some sleep. Tomorrow might be hectic."
Silk was up the next morning before daylight. As the rest of them rose to gather about the fire in the growing light of the dawn, he came backdown the ridge. "They're coming," he announced, "and they're combing the woods inch by inch. I think we can be fairly sure that some of them will come up this ravine."
Belgarath stood up. "One of you put that fire out," he said. "We don't want the smoke to lead them right to us."
As Durnik quickly shovelled dirt over their cook fire, Toth stood up and peered off across the basin. Then he tapped Belgarath on the shoulder and pointed.
"What did he say, Durnik?" the old man asked.
The smith and his huge friend exchanged a series of somewhat obscure gestures.
"He says that there's a bramble thicket on the other side of the pond," Durnik interpreted. "He thinks that if we go around to the back side where the cliff comes down behind it, we might be able to find a good place to hide."
"Go look," Belgarath said shortly, "while the rest of us brush out any traces to show we've been here."
It took about a quarter of an hour to break down their tents and to obliterate any footprints that might alert the soldiers to the fact that someone had spent the night in this secluded place. As Silk was giving the campsite a critical last scrutiny, Durnik and Toth returned. "It's adequate," the smith reported. "There's an open place in the center of the thicket. We won't leave any tracks, if we're careful getting in there with the horses."
"What about from up there?" Garion asked him, pointing at the top of the cliff.
"We can cover the open place over with brambles," Durnik replied. "It shouldn't take too long." He looked at Silk. ''How much time do you think we have? How close are the soldiers?"
"Probably about an hour away."
"That's more than enough time."
"All right," Belgarath said, "let's do it. I'd rather hide than run, anyway."
It was necessary to push the brambles aside to lead the horses into the center of the thicket. As Garion and Silk carefully rearranged them to conceal the game trail that had given them access to the hiding place, Durnik and Toth cut enough of the long, thorny tendrils to roof over the opening in the center. In the very midst of the task, Toth stopped suddenly, and his eyes grew distant, as if he were listening to something. His expression became oddly reluctant, and then he sighed.
"What's the matter, Toth?" Durnik asked him.
The giant shrugged and went back to his work.
"Grandfather," Garion said, "if there are Grolims with the soldiers, won't they look for us with their minds?"
"It's not very likely that any Grolims would be along, Garion," Silk told him. "This is a fairly small expedition, and the church and the army don't get along very well in Mallorea."
"They're coming, father," Polgara told him.
"How far are they?"
"A mile or so."
"Let's work our way out to the edge of the thicket," Silk suggested to Garion. "I'd sort of like to keep an eye on things." He dropped to the ground and began to worm his way among the roots of the prickly brambles.
After a few yards, Garion began to mutter a few choice curses. No matter which way he twisted, the sharp thorns managed to find any number o
f sensitive spots.
"I don't want to interrupt your devotions," Silk whispered, "but it might be a good time for a fair amount of silence."
"Can you see anything?" Garion whispered back.
"Not yet, but you can hear them crashing around at the mouth of the ravine. Stealth is not a Mallorean's strong point."
Faintly from far down the ravine, Garion could hear several men talking. The sound, distorted by echoes bouncing off the twisting rock walls, came in odd bursts. Then there was a clatter of hooves on the rocks beside the tumbling brook as the Malloreans began their search of the narrow course.
There were a dozen or so soldiers in the party. They wore the usual red tunics and they rode their horses stiffly, like men who were not at all comfortable in the saddle.
"Did anybody ever say why we're looking for these people?" one of them asked, sounding a bit surly about it.
"You've been in the army long enough to know better than that, Brek," one of his companions replied. "They never tell you why. When an officer tells you to jump, you don't ask why. You just say, 'How far?'"
"Officers." Brek spat. "They get all the best of everything and they never do any work. Someday the ordinary soldiers like you and me are going to get sick of it, and then all those fine generals and captains had better look out."
"You're talking mutiny, Brek," his companion said, looking around nervously."If the captain hears you, he'll have you crucified on the spot."
Brek scowled darkly. "Well, they'd better look out, that's all," he muttered. "A man can take being pushed around for just so long."
The red-clad soldiers rode directly through the campsite Garion and his friends had carefully obliterated and rode along the edge of the pond.
"Sergeant," Brek said in his complaining voice to the heavy man in the lead, "isn't it about time to stop and rest?"
"Brek," the sergeant replied, "sometime not too far off, I'd like to get through a day without hearing you whine about everything that happens."
"You don't have any reason to talk to me like that," Brek objected. "I follow my orders, don't I?"
"But you complain, Brek. I'm so sick of hearing you snivel about everything that happens that, about the next time you open your mouth, I'm going to bash in your teeth."
"I'm going to tell the captain what you just said," Brek threatened. "You heard what he told you about hitting us."
"How do you plan to make him understand you, Brek?" the sergeant asked ominously. "A man mumbles when he doesn't have any teeth, you know. Now, water your horse and keep your mouth shut."
Then a stern-faced man with iron-gray hair astride a raw-boned horse came cantering up the ravine and into the basin. "Any signs?" he demanded curtly.
The sergeant saluted. "Nothing at all, Captain," he reported. The officer glanced around. "Did you look into that thicket?" he asked, pointing toward the place where Garion and the others were concealed.
"We were just about to, sir," the sergeant replied. "There aren't any tracks, though."
"Tracks can be brushed out. Have your men go look."
"Right away, Captain."
As the soldiers rode up to the thicket, the officer dismounted and led his horse to the pond to drink.
"Did the general say anything about why he wants these people captured, sir?" the sergeant asked, also dismounting.
"Nothing that concerns you, Sergeant."
The soldiers were riding around the thicket, making some show of peering through the brambles.
"Tell them to get off their horses, Sergeant," the captain said disgustedly. "I want that thicket thoroughly searched. That white-haired man back at the village said that the ones we're looking for would be in this part of the forest."
Garion muffled a sudden gasp. "Vard!" he whispered to Silk. "He told them exactly where to find us."
"So it would seem," Silk breathed back grimly. "Let's get back a little farther into the thicket. Those soldiers are likely to get a bit more serious about this now."
"The thicket's all thorn bushes, Captain," Brek shouted back his report. "We can't get in there at all."
"Use your spears," the captain ordered. "Poke around and see if you can flush anybody out."
The Mallorean troopers untied their spears from their saddles and began to stab them into the thicket.
"Keep down," Silk whispered.
Garion pressed himself closer to the ground, wincing as he found a fair number of thorns with his thighs.
"It's solid brambles, Captain," Brek shouted after several moments of probing. "Nobody could possibly be in there— not with horses."
"All right," the officer told him. "Mount up and come on back down here. We'll try the next ravine."
Garion carefully let out the breath he had been holding. "That was close," he breathed to Silk.
"Too close," Silk replied. "I think I'll have a talk with Vard about this."
"Why would he betray us like that?"
"That's one of the things we're going to talk about when I see him."
As the soldiers reached the pond, the captain swung back up into his saddle. "All right, Sergeant," he said, "form up your men, and let's move on."
Then, directly in front of him, there was a peculiar shimmering in the air, and Cyradis, robed and cowled, appeared.
The officer's startled horse reared, and the man kept his saddle only with difficulty. "Torak's teeth!" he swore. "Where did you come from?"
"That is of no moment," she replied. "I have come to aid thee in thy search."
"Look out, Captain!" Brek called warningly. "That's one of those Dalasian witches. She'll put a curse on you if you're not careful."
"Shut up, Brek," the sergeant snapped.
"Explain yourself, woman," the captain said imperiously. "Just what did you mean by that last remark?"
Cyradis turned until she was facing the bramble thicket. She raised her hand and pointed. "The ones you seek are concealed there," she said.
From somewhere behind him Garion heard Ce'Nedra gasp.
"We just searched there," Brek objected. "There's nobody in that thicket."
"Thy sight is faulty then," she told him.
The captain's face had grown cold. "You're wasting my time," he told her. "I watched my men make the search with my own eyes." He gave her a narrow glance. "What is a Seeress from Kell doing here in Cthol Murgos?" he demanded. "You people are neither wanted nor welcome here. Go home and fill your mind with the shadows of brain-sickly imagining. I have no time for the babblings of adolescent witches."
"Then I must prove to thee that my words are true," she replied. She lifted her face and stood quite still.
From somewhere behind where Garion and Silk lay concealed there came a crashing sound, and a moment later the huge Toth, responding to the silent summons of his mistress, burst out of the bramble thicket, carrying the struggling Ce'Nedra in his arms.
The captain stared at him.
"That's one of them, Captain!" Brek exclaimed. "That's the big one you told us to look for—and the red-haired wench!"
"It is as I told thee," Cyradis said. "Seek the others in the same place." Then she vanished.
"Take those two!" the sergeant commanded, and several of his men jumped down from their saddles and surrounded Toth and the still-struggling Ce'Nedra with drawn weapons.
"What are we going to do?" Garion whispered to Silk. "They've got Ce'Nedra."
"I can see that."
"Let's go, then." Garion reached for his sword.
"Use your head," the little man snapped. "You'll only put her in more danger if you go running down there."
"Garion—Silk," Belgarath's whispered voice came to them, "what's happening?"
Garion twisted around to look back over his shoulder and saw his grandfather peering through the brambles. "They've got Toth and Ce'Nedra," he reported softly. "It was Cyradis, Grandfather. She told them exactly where we are."
Belgarath's face went stony, and Garion could see his lips shaping a
number of curses.
The Mallorean captain rode up to the thicket with the sergeant and the rest of his men closely behind him. "I think that the rest of you had better come out of there," he ordered crisply. "I have your two friends already and I know that you're in there."
No one answered.
"Oh, come now," he said, "be reasonable. If you don't come out, I'll just send for more soldiers and have them cut down the thicket with their swords. No one's been hurt yet, and I give you my word that none of you will be harmed in any way, if you come out now. I'll even let you keep your weapons—as a gesture of good faith."
Garion heard a brief whispered consultation back in the center of the thicket.
"All right, Captain," Belgarath called in a disgusted tone of voice. "Keep your men under control. We're coming out. Garion, you and Silk, too."
"Why did he do that?" Garion asked. "We could have stayed hidden and then worked out a way to get them all free again."
"The Malloreans know how many of us there are, Silk replied. "That captain's got the upper hand for the moment. Let's go." He started to worm his way out of the thicket.
Garion swore and then followed him.
The others emerged from the back of the thicket and began to walk toward the Mallorean officer. Durnik, however, pushed past them, his face livid with anger. He strode quickly down the slope to confront Toth. "Is this your idea of friendship?" he demanded. "Is this the way you repay all our kindness?"
Toth's face grew melancholy, but he made no gesture of reply or explanation.
"I was wrong about you, Toth," the smith continued in a dreadfully quiet voice. "You were never a friend. Your mistress just put you in a position where the two of you could betray us. Well, you won't get the chance again." He started to raise his hand, and Garion could feel the surge as he gathered in his will.
"Durnik!" Polgara cried. "No!"
"He betrayed us, Pol. I'm not going to let him get away with that."
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, their eyes locked. In that moment, something passed between them, and Durnik finally lowered his gaze. He turned back to the mute. "You and I are through, Toth. I'll never trust you again. I don't even want to see your face any more. Give me the princess. I don't want you touching her."
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