‘We might as well start along the waterfront,’ Silk suggested. ‘Each wharf is owned by a different group of businessmen, and if we can find out which wharf Zandramas landed on, we’ll know whom to question for more information.’
‘Sounds reasonable,’ Garion said shortly, striding off toward the harbor.
‘Don’t run,’ Silk told him.
‘I’m not.’
‘You’re moving too fast,’ the little man said. ‘People in Melcene go at a more stately pace.’
‘You know, Silk, I really don’t care what the people here think of me. I’m not here to waste time.’
Silk took hold of his friend’s arm with a firm grip. ‘Garion,’ he said seriously, ‘we know that Zandramas and her underling have come here. She knows that we’re after her, and there are people in Melcene who can be hired for various kinds of mischief. Let’s not make it easy for them by standing out in the crowd.’
Garion looked at him. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘We’ll do it your way.’
They walked at an infuriatingly slow pace down a broad avenue. At one point, Silk stopped with a muttered oath.
‘What’s wrong?’ Garion asked him.
‘That fellow just ahead—the one with the big nose—he’s a member of Brador’s secret police.’
‘Are you sure?’
Silk nodded. ‘I’ve known him for quite some time.’ The little man squared his shoulders. ‘Well, there’s no help for it, I guess. He’s already seen us. Let’s move along.’
But the man with the large, bulbous nose moved forward to stand in their path. ‘Good morning, Prince Kheldar,’ he said, bowing slightly.
‘Rolla,’ Silk replied distantly.
‘And your Majesty,’ Rolla added, bowing more deeply to Garion. ‘We weren’t expecting you to appear here in Melcene. Brador will be very surprised.’
‘Surprises are good for him.’ Silk shrugged. ‘An unsurprised man gets complacent.’
‘The emperor was most put out with you, your Majesty,’ Rolla said reproachfully to Garion.
‘I’m sure he’ll survive it.’
‘In Mallorea, your Majesty, it’s the ones who offend Kal Zakath who need to be concerned about survival.’
‘Don’t make threats, Rolla,’ Silk warned. ‘If his Majesty here decides that your report to the Chief of the Bureau of Internal Affairs would be embarrassing, he might decide to take steps to keep you from ever writing it. His Majesty is an Alorn, after all, and you know how short-tempered they can be.’
Rolla stepped back apprehensively.
‘Always nice talking with you, Rolla,’ Silk said in a tone of dismissal. Then he and Garion walked on. Garion noticed that the big-nosed man had a slightly worried look on his face as they passed him.
‘I love to do that to people,’ Silk smirked.
‘You’re easily amused,’ Garion said. ‘You do know that when his report gets to Mal Zeth, Zakath’s going to flood this whole region with people trying to find us.’
‘Do you want me to go back and kill him for you?’ Silk offered.
‘Of course not!’
‘I didn’t think so. If you can’t do something about a situation, there’s no point in worrying about it.’
When they reached the harbor, Garion tightened his grip on the Orb. The pulling of Iron-grip’s sword had sometimes been quite strong, and Garion had no desire to have the stone jump out of his hand. They walked northward along the wharves with the salt tang of the sea in their nostrils. The harbor of Melcene, unlike that of most of the port cities in the world, was surprisingly clear of floating garbage. ‘How do they keep it so clean?’ Garion asked curiously. ‘The water, I mean?’
‘There’s a heavy fine for throwing things in the harbor,’ Silk replied. ‘Melcenes are compulsively tidy. They also have workmen with nets in small boats patrolling the waterfront to scoop up any floating debris. It helps to maintain full employment.’ He grinned. ‘It’s a nasty job and it’s always assigned to people who aren’t interested in finding regular work. A few days in a small boat full of garbage and dead fish increases their ambition enormously.’
‘You know,’ Garion said, ‘that’s really a very good idea. I wonder if—’ The Orb suddenly grew very warm in his hand. He pulled his robe open slightly and looked at it. It was glowing a sullen red.
‘Zandramas?’ Silk asked.
Garion shook his head. ‘The Sardion,’ he replied.
Silk nervously tugged at his nose. ‘That’s a sort of dilemma, isn’t it? Do we follow the Sardion or Zandramas?’
‘Zandramas,’ Garion said. ‘She’s the one who’s got my son.’
‘It’s up to you.’ Silk shrugged. ‘That’s the last wharf just up ahead. If we don’t pick up the trail there, we’ll go on and check the north gate.’
They passed the last wharf. The Orb gave no indication of interest.
‘Could they have landed on one of the other islands?’ Garion asked with a worried frown.
‘Not unless they changed course once they were at sea,’ Silk replied. ‘There are plenty of other places to land a ship along this coast. Let’s go have a look at the north gate.’
Once again they moved through the streets at that frustratingly leisurely pace. After they had crossed several streets, Silk stopped. ‘Oh, no,’ he groaned.
‘What is it?’
‘That fat man coming this way is Viscount Esca. He’s one of the senior members of the Melcene Consortium. He’s bound to want to talk business.’
‘Tell him we have an appointment.’
‘It wouldn’t do any good. Time doesn’t mean that much to Melcenes.’
‘Why, there you are, Prince Kheldar,’ the fat man in a gray robe said, waddling up to them. ‘I’ve been looking all over the city for you.’
‘Viscount Esca,’ Silk said, bowing.
‘My colleagues and I have stood in awe of your recent venture into the commodities market,’ Esca said admiringly.
Silk’s eyes grew sly, and his long nose twitched. Then he assumed a pained expression. ‘A blunder, actually, my dear Viscount,’ he said mournfully. ‘There’s little profit to be made in something as bulky as farm produce.’
‘Have you been keeping abreast of the market?’ Esca asked, his face taking on a transparent cast of neutrality, but his eyes filled with undisguised greed.
‘No,’ Silk lied, ‘not really. I’ve been up country, and I haven’t had the chance to talk with my factor as yet. I left instructions for him to take the first offer that comes along, though—even if we have to take a loss. I need my warehouses, and they’re all filled to the rafters with beans.’
‘Well, now,’ Esca said, rubbing his hands together, ‘I’ll speak with my colleagues. Perhaps we can make you a modest offer.’ He had begun to sweat.
‘I couldn’t let you do that, Esca. My holdings are virtually worthless. Why don’t we let some stranger take the loss? I couldn’t really do that to a friend.’
‘But, my dear Prince Kheldar,’ Esca protested in a tone verging on anguish, ‘we wouldn’t really expect to make a vast profit. Our purchase would be more in the nature of long-term speculation.’
‘Well,’ Silk said dubiously, ‘as long as you’re fully aware of the risks involved—’
‘Oh, we are, we are,’ Esca said eagerly.
Silk sighed. ‘All right, then,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you make your offer to Vetter? I’ll trust you not to take advantage of my situation.’
‘Oh, of course, Kheldar, of course.’ Esca bowed hastily. ‘I really must be off now. Pressing business, you understand.’
‘Oh,’ Silk said, ‘quite.’
Esca waddled off at an unseemly rate of speed.
‘Hooked him!’ Silk chortled. ‘Now I’ll let Vetter land him.’
‘Don’t you ever think about anything else?’ Garion asked.
‘Of course I do, but we’re busy right now and we didn’t have all morning to listen to him babble. Let’s move along, shall we?’
&
nbsp; A thought occurred to Garion. ‘What if Zandramas avoided the city?’ he asked.
‘Then we’ll get our horses and check the coastline. She had to have landed somewhere.’
As they approached the north gate of Melcene, the press in the street grew noticeably heavier. Carriages and people on horseback began to become more frequent, and the normally sedate citizens began to move more rapidly. Garion and Silk found it necessary to push their way through the throng.
‘Anything?’ Silk asked.
‘Not yet,’ Garion replied, taking a firmer grip on the Orb. Then, as they passed a side street, he felt the now-familiar pulling. ‘She’s been here,’ he reported. ‘She came out of that street—or went into it. I can’t quite tell which yet.’ He went a few steps up the side street. The Orb tried to push him back. He turned around and rejoined his rat-faced friend. The steady pull of the Orb drew him toward the gate. ‘She went out this way,’ he reported as they reached the arched opening.
‘Good,’ Silk said. ‘Let’s go back and get the others. And then maybe we can find out why Zandramas came to Melcena.’
Chapter Five
It seemed somehow that Garion’s impatience had communicated itself to Chretienne. The big gray stallion was restive as they left Silk’s house and rode into the street and he flicked his ears in irritation as Garion tried to curb him with the reins. Even the sound of his steel-shod hooves on the cobblestones came as a kind of restless staccato. As Garion leaned forward to lay a calming hand on the arched gray neck, he could feel the nervous quivering of his horse’s muscles under the sleek skin. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I feel the same way, but we have to wait until we’re outside the city before we can run.’
Chretienne snorted and then made a plaintive whinnying sound.
‘It won’t take that long,’ Garion assured him.
They rode in single file through the busy streets with Silk in the lead. The breeze swirling through the streets carried with it the dusty smell of autumn.
‘What are all those buildings over there?’ Eriond called ahead to Silk. The blond young man pointed toward a large complex of structures that seemed to be set in the center of a lush green park.
‘The University of Melcena,’ Silk replied. ‘It’s the largest institution of higher learning in the world.’
‘Even bigger than the one in Tol Honeth?’ Garion asked.
‘Yes, much. The Melcenes study everything. There are branches of learning at that university that the Tolnedrans won’t even admit exist.’
‘Oh? Such as what?’
‘Applied alchemy, astrology, necromancy, fundamentals of witchcraft, that sort of thing. They’ve even got an entire college devoted to the reading of tea leaves.’
‘You’re not serious.’
‘I’m not, but they are.’
Garion laughed and rode on.
The streets of Melcene grew even busier, but there was a decorum to the bustle. No matter how urgent his affairs might be, a Melcene businessman was never so preoccupied that he didn’t have time for a friendly chat with one of his competitors. The snatches of conversation Garion heard as they rode along the boulevards ranged in subject from the weather to politics to flower arrangement. The major concentration that morning, however, seemed to be centered on the price of beans.
When they reached the north gate, the great sword strapped across Garion’s back began to pull at him. Despite Silk’s critical look, Garion had decided that he was not going out into the countryside without the sword. Zandramas had a way of leaving traps behind her, and Garion definitely did not want to walk into one of them unprepared. As they passed through the gate, he nudged Chretienne forward to ride beside Silk. ‘The trail seems to be following this road,’ he said, pointing up a broad highway stretching off to the north.
‘At least it doesn’t go across open country,’ Silk said. ‘The ground gets a little marshy in spots up here, and I hate to ride through mud.’
Belgarath had said nothing since they had left Silk’s house, but had ridden along with an irritated expression on his face. Now he came forward to join Silk and Garion. He looked around to make sure that none of the local citizens were close enough to overhear what they were saying and then spoke to Garion. ‘Let’s go over it again—step by step this time. Exactly what did your friend say?’
‘Well,’ Garion replied, ‘he started out by saying that all the prophecies are cryptic in order to keep the information out of the wrong hands.’
‘That makes a certain amount of sense, Belgarath,’ Beldin said from just behind them.
‘It might make sense,’ Belgarath said, ‘but it doesn’t make things any easier.’
‘Nobody promised you easy.’
‘I know. I just wish they’d stop going out of their way to make it difficult. Go ahead, Garion.’
‘Then he said that we’re only three days behind Zandramas,’ Garion told him.
‘That means that she’s left the island,’ Silk noted.
‘How did you arrive at that conclusion?’ Belgarath asked.
‘Melcene’s a big island, but not that big. You can ride from one end of it to the other in two days. She might have gone on to one of the northern islands, but if we’re three days behind her, she isn’t on this one any more.’
Belgarath grunted. ‘What else did he say?’ he asked Garion.
‘He said that there’s something else we have to do here—besides finding the trail, I mean.’
‘I gather he wasn’t very specific.’
‘No. He explained why not, though. He said if he told me what it was, the other prophecy could tell Zandramas certain things she didn’t know yet. That’s when he told me that she doesn’t know where the Place Which Is No More is, and that the location’s not in the Ashabine Oracles.’
‘Did he give you any clues at all about this task of ours?’
‘Only that somebody’s going to say something to us today that’s very important.’
‘Who?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me. All he said was that somebody was going to say something in passing that we shouldn’t miss. He said that we should be alert for that kind of thing.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No. That’s when he left.’
The old man started to swear.
‘I felt pretty much the same way myself,’ Garion agreed.
‘He’s done as much as he can, Belgarath,’ Beldin said. ‘The rest is up to us.’
Belgarath made a wry face. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Of course I’m right. I’m always right.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. Well, first things first, I guess. Let’s find out where Zandramas went. Then we can start analyzing every casual remark we hear.’ He turned in his saddle. ‘Keep your ears open today, all of you.’ Then he nudged his mount into a trot.
A rider in sober blue galloped past, going toward the city with uncharacteristic haste. Silk began to laugh after the man had passed them.
‘Who was that?’ Durnik asked.
‘A member of the Consortium,’ Silk replied gaily. ‘It appears that Viscount Esca’s called an emergency session.’
‘Is this something I ought to know about?’ Belgarath asked.
‘Not unless you’re interested in the market price of beans.’
‘Will you keep your mind on what we’re here for and stop playing?’
‘It was sort of necessary, grandfather,’ Garion came to his friend’s defense. ‘The Viscount stopped us in the street while we were looking for the trail. He’d have talked all day if Silk hadn’t sent him off on a fool’s errand.’
‘Did he say anything at all that might be what we’re looking for?’
‘No. He just talked about beans.’
‘Did you meet anybody else today? Share these little encounters with us, Garion.’
‘We ran into one of Brador’s secret policemen. I’d imagine that his messenger is already on the way to Mal Zeth.’
‘Did h
e say anything?’
‘He made a few veiled threats, is all. I guess Emperor Zakath’s a little unhappy with us. The policeman recognized me, but I suppose that’s only natural. Silk was going to kill him, but I said no.’
‘Why?’ Beldin asked bluntly.
‘We were in the middle of a busy street for one thing. Killing somebody’s the sort of thing you ought to do in private, wouldn’t you say?’
‘You were a much nicer boy before you developed this clever mouth,’ Beldin snapped.
Garion shrugged. ‘Nothing ever stays the same, uncle.’
‘Be polite, Garion,’ Polgara called from behind.
‘Yes, ma’am.’
A black carriage rattled by. The team of white horses drawing it were moving at a dead run and they were flecked with foam.
‘Another bean buyer?’ Belgarath asked.
Silk smirked and nodded.
Durnik had been looking around. ‘I don’t see any signs that this land is being farmed,’ he said.
Silk laughed. ‘Land in Melcena’s too valuable to be wasted on farming, Durnik. The people here import all their food from the mainland. About all we’ll find out here are the estates of the very wealthy—retired businessmen, nobles, that sort of thing. The whole countryside’s one huge park. Even the mountains have been landscaped.’
‘That doesn’t seem very practical,’ Durnik said disapprovingly.
‘The people who live on the estates spent a great deal of money for them, so I guess they can do what they like with the land.’
‘It still seems wasteful.’
‘Of course it is. That’s what rich people do best—waste things.’
The green hills to the north of the city were gently rolling and were dotted with artistically placed groves of trees. Many of the trees had been carefully pruned to accentuate their pleasing shapes. Garion found this tampering with nature somehow offensive. It appeared that he was not alone in this feeling. Ce’Nedra rode with a stiff look of disapproval on her face and frequently made little sounds of disgust, usually at the sight of a well-trimmed oak tree.
They moved into a canter, following the trail north along a road surfaced with gleaming white gravel. The road curved gently from hillside to hillside and in level spots it frequently made wide bends, evidently for no other purpose than to relieve the monotony of long straight stretches. The houses set far back from the road were universally constructed of marble and were usually surrounded by parks and gardens. It was a sunny autumn day, and the prevailing breeze carried with it the smell of the sea, a smell Garion found very familiar. He suddenly felt a sharp pang of homesickness for Riva.
Sorceress of Darshiva Page 10