Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress

by David Eddings

  ‘I’ve been right here for six months. Is there something I ought to know about?’

  ‘I’ve found out where Zedar’s got Torak’s body hidden is about all.’

  ‘About all? That’s fairly momentous, Beldin. Where is it?’

  ‘Southern Cthol Murgos – about fifty leagues south of Rak Cthol. There’s a cave in the side of a mountain down there, and Zedar’s got Torak tucked away inside of it.’

  ‘He’s that close to Ctuchik? Is he insane?’

  ‘Of course he’s insane. He always has been. Ctuchik doesn’t know he’s there, though.’

  ‘Ctuchik’s a Grolim, Beldin. He can sense Zedar’s presence.’

  ‘No, actually he can’t. Zedar’s using some of the tricks you taught him before he turned bad on us. That’s what makes Zedar so dangerous. He’s the only one of the lot us who’s had instruction from two Gods.’

  ‘How did you find him, then?’

  ‘Sheer luck. He came out of the cave for firewood when I just happened to be flying over.’

  ‘Are you sure Torak’s inside?’

  ‘Well, of course I am, Belgarath! I went into the cave to make sure.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘Don’t get excited. Zedar didn’t know I was there. He was even nice enough to carry me inside.’

  ‘How did you manage that?’

  He shrugged. ‘I used a bug – a flea, actually.’ He laughed. ‘That’s really challenging. You wouldn’t believe what that kind of compression does to your innards. Anyway, Zedar’s none too clean these days, so he’s pretty well flea-bitten, and he’s got lice as well. I hopped onto his head and burrowed into his hair while he was bent over picking up some sticks for his fire. He took me inside, and there was old Burnt-face all laid out on a flat rock with ice all around him. Zedar’s put the mask back on him – probably because Torak’s face makes him as sick as it makes the rest of humanity. I stayed where I was until Zedar went to sleep. Then I bit him a few times and hopped on out of the cave.’

  I suddenly burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You bit him?’

  ‘Under the circumstances it was the best I could do. I wasn’t big enough to bash out his brains. He’s going to have a very itchy scalp for the next week or so, though. I’ll stop by that mountain of his from time to time to make sure he stays put. Mallorea’s gone all to pieces, you know.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘When word got back that Torak wasn’t functioning any more, independence movements started springing up all over the continent. The old emperor – the one Torak deposed – is back on the throne at Mal Zeth now, but he’s not really very effective. He’s got a grandson – Korzeth, I think his name is. The old emperor’s grooming him for the task of reuniting Mallorea. I was going to slip into the palace and slit the little monster’s throat, but the Master told me not to – very firmly. Evidently, Korzeth’s line’s going to produce somebody we’re going to need on down the line. That’s about it, Belgarath, so pass all this on to the twins and to Pol. I’m going back to Cthol Murgos. I think I’ll graze on Zedar’s head for a while longer.’ Then he blurred back into feathers and went out the window.

  I made my apologies to Mandor and Wildantor the next morning and rode north, intending to go to Seline to advise Pol of these developments, but I hadn’t gone five miles when I heard the sound of a galloping horse behind me. I was more than a little startled when I saw that it was General Cerran.

  ‘Belgarath!’ he shouted before he’d even caught up with me. ‘Thank Nedra I caught up with you before you vanished into the Asturian Forest! Ran Borune wants you to come back to Tol Honeth!’

  ‘Have you run out of couriers, Cerran?’ I asked, a little amused to see a middle-aged Tolnedran general reduced to a messenger-boy.

  ‘It’s a sensitive matter, old friend. Something’s going on in Tol Honeth that might involve you. The emperor doesn’t even want you to come to the palace. I’m supposed to take you to a certain place and then leave you to your own devices. His Majesty thinks it might be one of those things a Tolnedran wouldn’t understand, but you would.’

  ‘You’ve managed to arouse my curiosity, Cerran. Can you give me any details?’

  ‘There’s a member of the Honethite family who’s a thoroughgoing scoundrel.’

  ‘I thought they all were.’

  ‘This one’s so bad that his family’s disowned him. There are some things so rancid that even the Honeths can’t stomach them, but this fellow, Olgon, will do anything for a price. He does business out of a low tavern that’s frequented by pickpockets and hired killers. We like to keep an eye on him, so a couple of our agents have wormed their way in amongst the regular patrons. We’re fairly sure that the Drasnian ambassador’s got some people in there as well.’

  ‘You could probably make a safe bet on that,’ I agreed.

  ‘Truly. To cut this short, a couple of weeks ago, this Honethite Olgon was approached by a Nyissan who said that his employer would pay a great deal of money to find out where you are – and much more to find out where Lady Polgara is.’

  ‘Pol’s not in Tolnedra.’

  ‘We were fairly sure she wasn’t, but Olgon’s got people scattered all over the western kingdoms, and he has contacts with just about every thief and outlaw on this side of the escarpment.’

  ‘Why would a Nyissan be trying to find us?’

  ‘His employer isn’t Nyissan. One of our agents was close enough to eavesdrop when the Nyissan told Olgon his employer’s name. The man who’s looking for you is called Asharak the Murgo.’

  ‘I can’t say that I’ve ever heard of him.’

  ‘It’s an assumed name. Our intelligence service has quite an extensive file on this particular Murgo. He uses about a half-dozen names, but here’s one report about twenty years old that identifies him as somebody named Chamdar. Does that name mean anything to you?’

  I gaped at him for a moment, and then I wheeled my horse and spurred him toward the south and Tol Honeth.

  Chapter 44

  General Cerran and I very nearly killed our horses getting to Tol Honeth. I’m sure Cerran thought I’d gone crazy until I told him of some of my previous encounters with Ctuchik’s ambitious underling. When we finally reached Tol Honeth, we went immediately to the Drasnian embassy. Ran Borune’s intelligence service was good, I suppose, but it was no match for Rhodar’s. The Drasnian ambassador was a stout fellow named Kheral, and he didn’t seem very surprised to see us when we were escorted into his red-draped office. ‘I rather thought you might be stopping by, Ancient One,’ he said to me.

  ‘Let’s get down to business, Kheral,’ I said, cutting across the pleasantries. ‘How much can you tell me about this fellow who calls himself Asharak the Murgo?’

  Kheral leaned back, clasping his pudgy hands on his paunch. ‘He was fairly active here in Tolnedra back before the war, Belgarath – all the usual things, spies, corrupting government officials, and the like. There were dozens of Murgos doing that sort of thing back in those days. We routinely kept an eye on all of them, but Asharak wasn’t doing anything so radically different from the others that he stood out.’

  ‘Didn’t your home office in Boktor make the connection?’

  ‘Evidently not. Asharak’s name was in our reports, but it was mixed in with the names of all the other Murgo agents, so it didn’t ring any bells. Then Kal Torak invaded Drasnia, and the intelligence service had to move out of Boktor in a hurry. They set up shop in Riva, but the files were an absolute shambles. That might explain why later reports on Asharak didn’t attract attention until just recently. Murgo operatives were still functioning here in Tolnedra even after the South Caravan Route was closed, but when the war started getting serious, they all left the country.’

  ‘Good riddance,’ Cerran noted.

  ‘No, General, not really,’ Kheral disagreed. ‘Murgos sort of stand out in the western kingdoms, so they’re easy to ident
ify. Ctuchik’s using Dagashi now instead, and it’s much more challenging to try to identify them. We did manage to locate one a few months back, though, so I put some people to watching him. Then, about two weeks ago, this Dagashi was speaking with a fellow who looked like a Sendar, but probably wasn’t, and one of my agents was close enough to them to hear them talking about some orders they’d received from Asharak the Murgo. I sent a report to our temporary headquarters in Riva, and a clerk who was a little more alert than the one who’s been mishandling my correspondence made the connection. He checked the dossier we’ve kept on Asharak for years now, and he found some documents that were cross-referenced to the file we keep on Chamdar. The Chief of Service alerted me, and I arranged to leak information to Ran Borune’s spies. I knew that you’d recently visited the palace, Belgarath, and there was a good chance that the emperor would know where you’d gone. I felt that it’d be easier – and cheaper – to let his people find you rather than sending out my own.’

  Cerran was looking speculatively at Kheral. ‘I’m getting the distinct impression that you wear two hats, your Excellency,’ he observed.

  ‘Didn’t you know that, Cerran?’ I asked him. ‘Every Drasnian ambassador in the world’s a member of the intelligence service.’

  Kheral made a slight face. ‘It’s a budgetary consideration, General,’ he explained. ‘King Rhodar’s a very thrifty fellow, and this way he only has to pay one salary rather than two. The savings do mount up after a while.’

  Cerran smiled. ‘How typically Drasnian,’ he murmured.

  ‘How does this renegade Honethite, Olgon, fit into all of this, Kheral?’ I asked.

  ‘I was just getting to that, Ancient One. The Dagashi we’ve been watching is currently posing as a Nyissan – shaved head, silk robe, and all of that. He’s been spending a lot of time in that tavern Olgon frequents. I’ve got a couple of agents close to Olgon, and we’re fairly sure Tolnedran intelligence does as well. This so-called Nyissan was the one who enlisted Olgon to aid in the search for you and Lady Polgara.’

  I stood up. ‘I think maybe I’d better go to this tavern and have a look at Olgon for myself. Exactly where is the place?’

  ‘On the southern end of the island,’ Cerran told me, ‘but would that be wise? You are fairly well-known, and I’m sure that Asharak’s Dagashi would recognize you.’

  ‘I can disguise myself, Cerran,’ I assured him. ‘Nobody’s going to recognize me.’ I looked him straight in the face. ‘You don’t really want to know how I do that, do you?’

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘No, I guess not, Belgarath,’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t think so. Kheral, why don’t you have one of your people show me where this tavern is? I’ll take it from there. You two wait here. I’ll be back in a little bit.’

  When you enter the city of Tol Honeth, you get the impression that it’s all stately houses and marble-sheathed public buildings, but, like every other city in the world, it has its share of slums. The tavern to which Kheral’s spy took me was decidedly shabby, and it was identified by a crude sign that supposedly represented a cluster of grapes. I think that every tavern in the west has the same sign out front. The sun was just going down when the Drasnian spy pointed out the tavern and then went off down the street. I stepped back into a reeking alleyway, formed the image of a tall, lean fellow dressed in rags in my mind, and then fitted myself into that image. Then I half-staggered out of the alley, crossed the street, and went into the dimly lighted, stale-smelling tavern. I plopped myself down on a bench at one of the wobbly tables and loudly announced, I’ll have beer!’

  ‘I’ll see your money first,’ the tavern-keeper replied in a bored tone of voice.

  I fumbled around in the pocket of my shabby smock and produced a Tolnedran half-penny. The tavern-keeper took my coin and brought me a tankard of definitely inferior beer.

  Then I looked around. Olgon wasn’t too hard to pick out. He was far and away the best-dressed man in the tavern, and his face was locked in that arrogant expression that all Honeths are born with. He was holding court at a large table near the back wall, and he was surrounded by thieves and cutthroats. His face had that pouchy look that only comes after years of serious dissipation. ‘All you have to do is say that you saw her in the street, Strag,’ he was patiently explaining to an evil-looking fellow with a purple scar on the side of his face.

  ‘What good will that do?’ Strag retorted.

  ‘If he doesn’t get some kind of information that she’s still in Tol Honeth, he might take his money to Tol Borune – or even up into Arendia. We could lose him altogether.’

  ‘I don’t know about you, Olgon,’ Strag replied, ‘but I value my own skin. I’m not going to lie to a Dagashi and then take his money for it.’

  ‘You’re a coward, Strag,’ Olgon accused.

  ‘Maybe so, but I’m a live one. I’ve seen what the Dagashi do to people who cross them. Get somebody else to do your lying for you – or do it yourself.’

  Olgon sneered. ‘All right,’ he said to the other scoundrels at the table, ‘who wants to earn a silver half-mark?’

  He didn’t find any takers. Evidently the reputation of the Dagashi was well-known in this shabby society.

  Olgon glowered around at his hirelings, and then he let the matter drop. That little snatch of conversation revealed worlds about his character. I couldn’t for the life of me understand how a Dagashi could possibly put any faith in anything Olgon told him.

  It was about ten minutes later, and I’d been nursing that tankard of lukewarm, watered-down beer for about as long as I cared to, when the tavern door opened and a shaved-headed man wearing a Nyissan silk robe came in. He went directly to Olgon’s table. ‘Have you anything for me?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘I’ve got everybody out looking,’ Olgon replied a bit evasively. ‘This is costing me a great deal of money, Saress. Can you see your way clear to give me a little bit of an advance?’

  ‘Asharak doesn’t pay in advance, Olgon,’ the man in the silk robe said with a sneer. ‘He only pays on delivery.’

  Olgon muttered something, and the other man leaned over the table. ‘What was that?’ he asked ominously. Since he was bent over, I could clearly see the outline of the triangular-shaped object he had nestled against the small of his back under that robe.

  ‘I said that this Asharak of yours is a cheapskate,’ Olgon retorted.

  ‘I’ll pass that on to him,’ Saress replied. ‘I’m sure he’ll be charmed.’

  ‘I’m not asking for the whole sum, Saress,’ Olgon said plaintively, ‘just enough to cover my expenses.’

  ‘Look upon those expenses as an investment, Olgon. If you can produce the woman Asharak’s looking for, he’ll make you rich. If you can’t, you’ll just have to stay poor.’ Then he turned on his heel and left the tavern.

  Something wasn’t right here. They were all just a little too obvious. I knew that my disguise was impenetrable, but it was entirely possible that Olgon and the fellow in the Nyissan robe had recognized one of the Drasnian or Tolnedran agents here and that what I’d just seen had been carefully staged to deceive them. I started to get very suspicious about this whole business at that point. I waited for another few minutes, and then I stood up and dumped my tankard out on the floor. ‘That’s enough of this swill,’ I announced loudly. ‘If I want a drink of river water, I can go down to one of the wharves and drink my fill without paying for it,’ Then I stormed out of the place. I kept my disguise in place until I was certain that I wasn’t being followed. Then I stepped into another alleyway, resumed my own form, and went back to the Drasnian embassy as evening settled over Tol Honeth.

  ‘Have any of your people actually seen Asharak?’ I asked Kheral.

  ‘Not yet, Ancient One,’ the ambassador replied. ‘We’ve tried to track that Dagashi back to his employer, but he always manages to evade us.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. That’s no run-of-the-mill Dagashi. He’s carrying an adder-sting. He
bent over a table in that tavern, and I saw the outline of the thing under his silk robe.’

  Kheral whistled.

  ‘What’s an adder-sting?’ Cerran asked.

  ‘It’s a triangular throwing knife,’ Kheral replied. ‘It’s about six inches across and razor-sharp. The tips are usually dipped in poison. Only the most elite among the Dagashi use them.’

  ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ I fumed. ‘Those elite Dagashi are very expensive. Why would Asharak pay that much for an errand boy? I’m starting to get a strong odor of rotten fish here. Somebody’s paying a lot of money to get us to believe that Asharak’s here in Tol Honeth, but until somebody actually sees him, I won’t be convinced.’

  ‘Why would Asharak go to all the trouble and expense to do something like this?’ Cerran seemed baffled.

  ‘Probably because he wants me to believe that he’s here when he’s actually someplace else,’ I replied. I didn’t say so, but I was fairly certain that I knew where Chamdar really was. ‘Well,’ I said then. ‘Two can play that game. I’m looking for Chamdar, and he’s looking for somebody else. I think I can come up with a way to make him come back to Tol Honeth at a dead run.’

  ‘What are you going to do, Ancient One?’ Kheral asked me.

  ‘Chamdar’s got people out looking for Polgara. I’m going to make sure that they find her – several times a day, actually, and right here in Tol Honeth. Let’s go to the palace. I need to talk with Ran Borune.’

  The three of us went to the imperial compound and were admitted into the emperor’s private quarters almost immediately.

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ Ran Borune said, laying aside the lute he’d been struniming. ‘I gather that something’s come up.’

  ‘I need a favor, your Majesty,’ I told him.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘This Chamdar you’ve been hearing about is a Grolim priest who does a lot of Ctuchik’s dirty work for him.’

  Ran Borune’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s more significant than we thought, then. What’s he doing in Tolnedra? I’d have thought that what happened at Vo Mimbre would have completely demoralized the Grolims.’