"She's also going to great lengths to conceal the fact," Silk added. "She's made sure that just about everybody who's seen her isn't alive to tell anybody about it."
"We can talk about all this some more later," Belgarath said, standing up and looking around at the gradually lightening fog. "I want to get away from this place before the people on the other side of the river start moving around. Let's saddle the horses."
It took a bit of readjustment of their equipment to free one of the pack horses for Sadi's use, but a short time later they rode out from their sheltered place of concealment and on along the weedy track that followed the winding course of the River of the Serpent. They moved at first at a cautious walk, but once they had passed the outskirts of Sthiss Tor, lying hidden in the fog across the river, they picked up their pace to a canter, clattering along the abandoned road that stretched through the rank jungle and reeking swamps of the tend of the snake-people.
As the sun rose, it gave the fog surrounding them a kind of mystical glow, and the droplets hanging along the edges of individual leaves drooping from the undergrowth at the side of the road took on a jewel-like sparkle. Garion, sandy-eyed and tired from a night without sleep, looked bemused at the jewelled green leaves, marvelling that such beauty could exist in this stinking swamp.
"The whole world is beautiful, Belgarion," Eriond assured him in response to that unspoken thought. "You just have to know how to look at it."
Once the fog had burned off, they were able to move at a much more rapid pace. They encountered no other travellers that day. By the time the sun began to sink into the heavy banks of purple cloud that seemed to hover perpetually over the western horizon, they were well upriver.
"How far is it to the Murgo border?" Garion asked Sadi as the two of them gathered firewood while Durnik and Toth set up the tents for their night's encampment.
"Several more days," the eunuch replied. "The highway fords the river up near the headwaters and then angles down toward Araga. There's a village on the other side of the ford. I'll need to stop there for a few things—suitable garments and the like."
Velvet and Ce'Nedra were unpacking Polgara's cooking utensils not far away, and the blond Drasnian girl looked over at Sadi. "Excuse me," she said, "but I think I've discovered a flaw in your plan."
"Oh?"
"How can we pose as slavers when some of us are obviously women?"
"But there are always women in any party of slave traders, my dear lady," he answered, dropping an armload of firewood beside the stone-lined cooking pit. "I'm sure that if you think about it, you'll understand why."
"I certainly don't," Ce'Nedra declared.
Sadi coughed rather delicately. "We trade in female slaves as well as males, your Majesty," he explained, "and a female who's been guarded by women brings a higher price."
A slow flush crept up her face. "That's revolting."
Sadi shrugged. "I didn't make the world, your Majesty," he replied. "I only try to live in it."
After they had eaten, Sadi took an earthenware bowl, filled it with hot water, and began to lather his stubbled scalp.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Sadi," Silk said from the other side of the fire. "Exactly what was it that you did to make Salmissra so discontented with you?"
Sadi gave him a wry look. "Those of us in the queen's service are an extraordinarily corrupt lot, Kheldar," he replied. "We're all knaves and scoundrels and worse. A number of years ago Salmissra laid down certain guidelines to keep our plotting and deceit within reasonable limits—just to keep the government from falling apart. I overstepped a few of those limits—most of them, actually. Sariss found out about it and ran to the Queen to tattle." He sighed. "I do so wish that I'd been able to see his reaction when she kissed him." He picked up his razor.
"Why do all Nyissan men shave their heads?" Ce'Nedra asked him curiously.
"There are all manner of nasty little insects in Nyissa, your Majesty, and hair provides them with a perfect nesting place."
She gave him a startled look, her hand going unconsciously to her coppery curls.
"I shouldn't worry too much," he smiled. "Most of the time, they're dormant in winter."
About noon several days later, the road they were following began to climb up out of the jungles into the foothills. The damp chill that had lain over the normally steaming swamps of Nyissa moderated as they climbed, and it was pleasantly warm as they moved up into the hardwood forest lying along the eastern frontier. The river began to tumble over stones beside the road, and its murky waters grew clear as they rode deeper into the hills.
"The ford is just up ahead," Sadi told them as he led them around a broad curve in the road. A stone bridge had once crossed the river there, but time and the turbulent water had eaten away its foundations and tumbled it into the riverbed. The green water rushed over the fallen stones, swift and foaming. Upstream from the fallen bridge, there was a wide stretch of gravel-bottomed shallows that rippled, sparkling in the sun. A well-travelled trail led down to the ford.
"What about the leeches?" Silk asked, eyeing the water with suspicion.
"The water's a little too fast for them, Prince Kheldar," , Sadi replied. "Their bodies are too soft to take much bouncing around on rocks." He rode confidently down into the rippling stream and led them on across.
"That village I mentioned is just up ahead," he told them as they emerged from the stream. "It should only take me an hour or so to pick up what we'll need."
"The rest of us can wait here, then," Belgarath said, swinging down from his saddle. "You go with him, Silk."
"I can manage," Sadi protested.
"I'm sure you can. Let's just call it a precaution."
"How am I going to explain to the shopkeeper what a Drasnian is doing with me?"
"Lie to him. I'm sure you'll be very convincing."
Garion dismounted and walked up the slope of the river bank. These were the people he loved most in the world, but sometimes their idle banter set his teeth on edge. Even though he knew that they really meant nothing by it, it seemed somehow to reflect an indifferent frivolity, a callous lack of concern for his personal tragedy—and more importantly, for Ce'Nedra's. He stood atop the river bank, looking with unseeing eyes down the descending gorge of the River of the Serpent and out over the dense green canopy of the jungles of the snake-people. He would be glad to get out of Nyissa. It was not so much the clinging mud, the stink of the swamps, nor even the clouds of insects that hovered perpetually in the air. The real problem with Nyissa was the fact that one could seldom see for more than a few feet in any direction. For some reason, Garion felt an overpowering need to see for long distances, and the obscuring trees and undergrowth that had blocked his vision since they had been in Nyissa had increasingly irritated him. A number of times he had caught himself just on the verge of clenching his will and blasting out long, clear avenues through the jungle. When Silk and Sadi returned, the little Drasnian's face was angry.
"They're only for show, Prince Kheldar," Sadi protested mildly. "We're not actually going to have any slaves with us anyway, so there won't really be anyone to wear them, will there?"
"It's the idea of them that offends me."
"What's this?" Belgarath asked.
Sadi shrugged. "I purchased a few shackles and slave bells. Kheldar doesn't approve."
"I didn't like the whips either," Silk added.
"I explained that to you, Kheldar."
"I know. It's still disgusting."
"Of course it is. Nyissans are a disgusting people. I thought you knew that."
"We can sort out comparative moralities later on," Belgarath said. "Let's move along."
The road they followed rose steeply up from the river, taking them deeper and deeper into the foothills. The hardwoods gave way to gnarled evergreens and low-lying heather. Great, rounded white boulders lay in scattered profusion among the dark green trees, and the sky overhead was an intense blue. They camped that ni
ght in a grove of low, twisted junipers, building their fire against a boulder so that its white surface could reflect back both light and heat. Above them rose a steep ridge that stood jaggedly outlined against the starry eastern sky.
"Once we cross that ridge, we'll be in Cthol Murgos," Sadi told them as they sat around the fire after supper. "The Murgos watch their borders very carefully, so it's probably time to start wearing our disguises." He opened the large bundle he had brought from the village near the ford and took out a number of dark green silk robes. He looked speculatively at Ce'Nedra and the gigantic Toth. "There may be a slight problem here," he murmured. "The shopkeeper didn't have a wide variety of sizes."
"I'll fix it, Sadi," Polgara said, taking the rolled-up robes from him and opening one of the packs in search of her sewing kit.
Belgarath had been staring thoughtfully at a large map. "There's something that's been bothering me," he said. He turned to Sadi. "Is there any way Zandramas might have taken a ship from one of these ports on the west coast and sailed around the southern end of the continent to Verkat?"
Sadi shook his head, his shaven scalp gleaming in the orange firelight. "Impossible, Ancient One. A Mallorean fleet slipped up behind the Murgos a few years back, and King Urgit still has nightmares about it. He's closed all the west coast ports and has ships patrolling the sea lanes all the way around the tip of the Urga peninsula. No one sails along that coast without his specific permission."
"How far is it to Verkat?" Durnik asked.
Sadi squinted up at the stars. "Three or four months at this time of the year, Goodman."
Polgara had been humming quietly to herself as her needle flashed in the firelight. "Come here, Ce'Nedra," she said.
The little queen rose and went over to where she sat. Pol held up the green silk robe, measuring it against her tiny figure, then nodded in satisfaction.
Ce'Nedra wrinkled her nose. "Do they have to smell so bad?" she asked Sadi.
'I don't suppose they have to, but they always do, for some reason. Slaves have a certain odor about them, and it seems to rub off."
Aunt Pol was looking at Toth as she held another of the slaver's robes in her hands. "This could be a bit more challenging," she murmured.
The giant gave her a brief, almost shy smile and rose to put more wood on the fire. As he poked the coals with a stick, a column of winking red sparks rose to greet the stars hanging low in the night sky. From somewhere down the ridge, as if in response to those sparks, there came a deep, coughing roar.
"What's that?" Ce'Nedra cried.
"Lion." Sadi shrugged. "Sometimes they hunt along the slave route—the old and crippled ones at any rate."
"Why would they do that?"
"Sometimes slaves get too sick to walk any farther and they have to be left behind. An old lion can't chase anything that's very nimble, and . . ." He left it hanging in the air.
She stared at him in horror.
"You did ask, after all, your Majesty," he reminded her. "As a matter of fact, I don't like the idea very much myself. That's one of the reasons I left the slave trade to go into politics." He stood up and brushed off the back of his robe. "Now, if you dear people will excuse me, I have to go feed Zith. Please be careful when you go to your beds tonight. Sometimes she sneaks away after she's been fed. I think it amuses her to hide from me, and one never knows where she might turn up." He walked out of the circle of golden firelight toward the place where he had spread his blankets.
Silk stared after him, then turned back to the fire. "I don't know about the rest of you," he declared, "but I'm sleeping right here tonight."
The next morning after breakfast, they donned the evil-smelling robes of Nyissan slavers. At Belgarath's instruction, Garion once again covered the hilt of Iron-grip's sword. "I think we'd better keep the Orb well wrapped as long as we're in Cthol Murgos," the old man said. "It tends to get excited when there are Angaraks about."
They mounted their horses and followed the ancient highway up a ravine toward the jagged ridge top. As they rounded a bend, Polgara suddenly reined in her horse with a sharp hiss.
"What's the matter, Pol?" Durnik asked her.
She did not reply immediately, but her face grew pale. Her eyes flashed, and the white lock at her brow suddenly flamed. "Monstrous!" she said.
"What is it, Aunt Pol?" Garion asked.
"Look over there," she answered, pointing with a trembling hand. There were white bones scattered about on the rocky ground several yards from the road; lying among them was a vacant-eyed human skull.
"One of the slaves Sadi mentioned last night?" Silk suggested.
Polgara shook her head. "A part of the arrangement between Sariss and Naradas involved several men to escort Zandramas to the Murgo border," she reminded him. "When she got this far, she didn't need them any more."
Silk's face grew grim. "That seems to be in character. Every time she finishes with somebody, she kills him."
"She didn't just kill them," Polgara said with a look of revulsion. "She broke their legs and left them for the lions. They waited all day for nightfall, and then the lions came."
Ce'Nedra's face blanched. "How horrible!"
"Are you sure, Pol?" Durnik asked, his face slightly sick.
"Some things are so dreadful that they leave their traces in the very rocks."
Belgarath had been staring bleakly at the gnawed bones. "This isn't the first time she's done this. She's not satisfied with just killing people to cover her tracks. She has to commit atrocities."
"She's a monster," Ce'Nedra declared. "She feeds on horror."
"It's a bit more than that," Belgarath replied. "I think she's trying to leave messages for us." He jerked his head toward the scattered bones. "That wasn't really necessary. I think she's trying to scare us off."
"It won't work," Garion said very quietly. "All she's doing is adding to the final reckoning. When the time finally comes for her to pay it, I think she's going to find that all of this is more than she can afford."
At the top of the ridge, the ancient road they had been following ended abruptly, sharply marking the invisible line where Nyissa ended and Cthol Murgos began. From the ridge top they looked out over an endless, unbroken expanse of shattered black rock and miles-wide beds of dark brown gravel, shimmering under a broiling sun.
"Which way did Zandramas go from here?" Durnik asked Garion.
"She turned south," Garion replied, feeling the Orb pulling in a new direction.
"We could gain time if we cut straight across that out there, couldn't we?"
"Absolutely out of the question, Goodman Durnik," Sadi declared. "That's the Great Desert of Araga. It's as big as Algaria. The only water there is in the wells of the Dagashi, and you wouldn't want to get caught dipping into a Dagashi well.
"The Dagashi live out there?" Durnik asked, shading his eyes with one hand to look out at the fiery wasteland.
"They're the only ones who can," Sadi replied. "Perhaps that explains why they're so fearsome. We're going to have to follow this ridge line south for a hundred leagues or so to get around that waste. Then we'll strike out due southeast across Morcth and on down into the Great Southern Forest in Gorut."
Belgarath nodded. "Let's get started then."
They rode south, skirting the western edge of the Desert of Araga and staying well up in the hills, which sloped steeply down to the desert floor. As they rode, Garion noticed that the trees on this side of the ridge were stunted and sparsely distributed. There was no grass growing in the rock-strewn ground, and the heather had given way to scrubby thorn bushes. The sharp ridge line appeared to be an abrupt demarcation between two entirely different climates. What had been only pleasantly warm on the west side became oppressively hot here on the east. There were almost no streams, and the few springs they found were tiny and seeped their water grudgingly into tepid little puddles hidden among the rust-colored boulders.
On the morning of the third day after they had entered Cthol Murgo
s, Toth belted his blanket across one shoulder, took up his staff, and walked down to the mouth of the ravine where they had spent the night, to look out over the rocky desert lying below. The sun had not yet risen, and the light from the dawn sky was steely and shadowless, etching each rock and crag of the sun-blasted wasteland in sharp detail. After a moment, the giant returned and touched Durnik's shoulder.
"What is it, Toth?" the smith asked.
The mute pointed to the mouth of the ravine.
"All right," Durnik said, rising from the spot where he had been kindling their morning fire. The two of them went on down the ravine in the pale light and stood looking out. After a few moments, Durnik called back over his shoulder. "Belgarath, I think you'd better come here and look at this."
The old sorcerer finished pulling on his scuffed and mismatched boots and went down to join them, with his green silk robe flapping about his ankles. He stared out for a while, then muttered a curse. "We've got a problem," he announced without turning.
The problem became apparent as soon as the rest of them reached the entrance to the ravine. Some distance out on the desert, a large cloud of dust was rising to hang motionless in the still morning air.
"How many men do you think it would take to raise that much dust?" Garion asked quietly.
"At least several hundred," Silk told him.
"Murgos?"
"Not unless the Murgos have changed their habits," Ve-vet murmured. "Those men are dressed in red."
Silk peered intently out at the dust cloud. "You've got good eyes," he said finally to the blond girl.
"One of the advantages of youth," she replied sweetly.
He gave her a quick, irritable look.
"I thought this was Murgo territory," Durnik objected.
"It is," Sadi said, "but the Malloreans send patrols out every so often. Zakath's been trying to find a way to come at Urgit from behind for a number of years now."
"How did they find water out there?"
"I'm sure they brought it with them."
Toth turned toward the south side of the ravine and scrambled up the steep, rocky bank, sending long streams of dusty brown gravel slithering down behind him.
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