“Which boat did you want to steal?” Silk asked as Garion dropped the unconscious Grolim on the floating dock that stuck out into the lake.
“Why ask me?” Garion replied, feeling just a bit uncomfortable with Silk's choice of words.
“Because you and Durnik are the ones who are going to have to sail it. I don't know the first thing about getting a boat to move through the water without tipping over.”
“Capsizing,” Garion corrected absently, looking at the various craft moored to the dock.
“What?”
“The word is 'capsize,' Silk. You tip over a wagon.
You capsize a boat.”
“It means the same thing, doesn't it?”
“Approximately, yes. “
“Why make an issue of it, then? How about this one?” The little man pointed at a broad-beamed vessel with a pair of eyes painted on the bow.
“Not enough freeboard,” Garion told him. “The horses are heavy, so any boat we take is going to settle quite a bit.”
Silk shrugged. “You're the expert. You're starting to sound as professional as Barak or Greldik.” He grinned suddenly. “You know, Garion, I've never stolen anything as big as a boat before. It's really very challenging.”
“I wish you'd stop using the word 'steal.' Couldn't we just say that we're borrowing a boat?”
“Did you plan to sail it back and return it when we're finished with it?”
“
“No. Not really.”
“Then the proper word is 'steal.' You're the expert on ships and sailing; I'm the expert on theft.”
They walked farther out on the dock.
“Let's go on board this one and have a look around,” Garion said, pointing at an ungainly-looking scow painted an unwholesome green color.
“It looks like a washtub.”
“I'm not planning to win any races with it.” Garion leaped aboard the scow. “It's big enough for the horses and the sides are high enough to keep the weight from swamping it.” He inspected the spars and rigging. “A little crude,” he noted, “but Durnik and I should be able to manage.”
“Check the bottom for leaks,” Silk suggested. “Nobody would paint a boat that color if it didn't leak.”
Garion went below and checked the hold and the bilges. When he came back up on deck, he had already made up his mind. “I think we'll borrow this one,” he said, jumping back to the pier.
“The term is still 'steal,' Garion.”
Garion sighed. “All right, steal -if it makes you happy.”
“Just trying to be precise, that's all.”
“Let's go get that Grolim and drag him up here,” Garion suggested. “We'll throw him in the boat and tie him up. I don't think he'll wake up for a while, but there's no point in taking chances.”
“How hard did you hit him?”
“Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me.”
They started back to where the Grolim lay.
“You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day,” Silk told him. “You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage.”
Garion shrugged and rolled the tattooed Grolim over with his foot. He took hold of one of the unconscious man's ankles. “Get his other leg,” he said.
The two of them walked back toward the scow with the Grolim dragging limply along behind them, his shaved head bouncing up and down on the logs of the dock. when they reached the scow, Garion took the man's arms while Silk took his ankles. They swung him back and forth a few times, then lobbed him across the rail like a sack of grain. Garion jumped across again and bound him hand and foot.
“Here comes Belgarath with the others,” Silk said from the dock.
“Good. Here -catch the other end of this gangplank.” Garion swung the ungainly thing around and pushed it out toward the waiting little Drasnian. Silk caught hold of it, pulled it out farther, and set the end down on the dock.
“Did you find anything?” he asked the others as they approached.
“We did quite well, actually.” Durnik replied. “One of those buildings is a storehouse. It was crammed to the rafters with food.”
“Good. I wasn't looking forward to making the rest of this trip on short rations.”
Belgarath was looking at the scow. “It isn't much of a boat, Garion,” he objected. “If you were going to steal one, why didn't you steal something a little fancier?”
“You see?” Silk said to Garion. “I told you that it was the right word.”
“I'm not stealing it for its looks, Grandfather,” Garion said. “I don't plan to keep it. It's big enough to hold the horses, and the sails are simple enough so that Durnik and I can manage them. If you don't like it, go steal one of your own.”
“Grumpy today, aren't we?” the old man said mildly. “What did you do with my Grolim?”
“He's lying up here in the scuppers.”
“Is he awake yet?”
“Not for some time, I don't think. I hit him fairly hard. Are you coming on board, or would you rather go steal a different boat?”
“Be polite, dear,” Polgara chided.
“No, Garion,” Belgarath said. “If you've got your heart set on this one, then we'll take this one.”
It took awhile to get the horses aboard, and then they all fell to the task of raising the boat's square-rigged sails. When they were raised and set to Garion's satisfaction, he took hold of the tiller. “All right,” he said. “Cast off the lines.”
“You sound like a real sailor, dear,” Ce'Nedra said in admiration.
“I'm glad you approve.” He raised his voice slightly.
“Toth, would you take that boat hook and push us out from the pier, please? I don't want to have to crash through all these other boats to get to open water.”
The giant nodded, picked up the long boat hook, and shoved against the dock with it. The bow swung slowly out from the dock with the sails flapping in the fitful breeze.
“Isn't the word 'ship,' Garion?” Ce'Nedra asked.
“What?”
“You called them boats. Aren't they called ships?”
He gave her a long, steady look.
“I was only asking,” she said defensively.
“Don't. Please.”
“What did you hit this man with, Garion?” Belgarath asked peevishly. He was kneeling beside the Grolim.
“My fist,” Garion replied.
“Next time, use an axe or a club. You almost killed him.”
“Would anyone else like to register any complaints?” Garion asked in a loud voice. “Let's pile them all up in a heap right now.”
They all stared at him, looking a bit shocked.
He gave up. “Just forget that I said it.” He squinted up at the sails, trying to swing the bow to the exact angle which would allow the sails to catch the offshore breeze.
Then, quite suddenly, they bellied out and boomed, and the scow began to pick up speed, plowing out past the end of the pier and into open water.
“Pol,” Belgarath said. “Why don't you come over here and see what you can do with this man? I can't get a twitch out of him, and I want to question him.”
“All right, father.” She went to the Grolim, knelt beside him, and put her hands on his temples. She concentrated for a moment, and Garion felt the surge of her will.
The Grolim groaned.
“Sadi,” she said thoughtfully, “Do you have any nephara in that case of yours?”
The eunuch nodded. “I was just going to suggest it myself, Lady Polgara.” He knelt and opened his red case.
Belgarath looked at his daughter quizzically.
“It's a drug, father,” she explained. “It induces truthfulness.”
“Why not do it the regular way?” he asked.
“The man's a Grolim. His mind is likely to be very strong. I could probably overcome him, but it would take time -and it would be very tiring. Nephara works just as well and it doesn't take any effort.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself, Pol.”
Sadi had taken a vial of a thick green liquid from his case. He unstoppered it and then took hold of the Grolim's nose, holding it until the half-conscious man was forced to open his mouth in order to breathe. Then the eunuch delicately tilted three drops of the green syrup onto the man's tongue. “I'd suggest giving him a few moments before you wake him, Lady Polgara,” he said, squinting clinically at the Grolim's face. “Give the drug time to take effect first.” He restoppered the vial and put it back in his case.
“Will the drug hurt him in any way?” Durnik asked.
Sadi shook his head. “It simply relaxes the will,” he replied. “He'll be rational and coherent, but very tractable.”
“He also won't be able to focus his mind sufficiently to use any talent he may have,” Polgara added. “We won't have to worry about his translocating himself away from us the moment he wakes up.” She critically watched the Grolim's face, occasionally lifting one of his eyelids to note the drug's progress. “I think it's taken hold now,” she said finally. She untied the prisoner's hands and feet.
Then she put her hands on the man's temples and gently brought him back to consciousness. “How are you feeling?” she asked him.
“My head hurts,” the Grolim said plaintively.
“That will pass,” she assured him. She rose and looked at Belgarath. “Speak to him calmly, father,” she said, “and start out with simple questions. With nephara it's best to lead them rather gently up to the important things.”
Belgarath nodded. He picked up a wooden pail, inverted it, it on the deck beside the Grolim, and sat on it. “Good morning, friend,” he said pleasantly, “or is it afternoon?” He squinted up at the sky.
“You're not really a Karand, are you?” the Grolim asked. His voice sounded dreamy. “I thought you were one of their wizards, but now that I look at you more closely, I can see that you're not.”
“You're very astute, friend,” Belgarath congratulated him. “What's your name?”
“Arshag,” the Grolim replied.
“And where are you from?”
“I am of the Temple at Calida.”
“I thought you might be. Do you happen to know a Chandim named Harakan, by any chance?”
“He now prefers to be known as Lord Mengha.
“Ah, yes, I'd heard about that. That illusion of Nahaz you raised this morning was very accurate. You must have seen him several times in order to get everything right,”
“I have frequently been in close contact with Nahaz,” the Grolim admitted. “It was I who delivered him to Lord Mengha.”
“Why don't you tell me about that? I'm sure it's a fascinating story and I'd really like to hear it. Take your time, Arshag. Tell me the whole story, and don't leave out any of the details.”
The Grolim smiled almost happily. “I've been wanting to tell someone the story for a long time now,” he said.
“Do you really want to hear it?”
“I'm absolutely dying to hear it,” Belgarath assured him.
The Grolim smiled again. “Well,” he began, “it all started quite a number of years ago -not too long after the death of Torak. I was serving in the Temple at Calida. Though we were all in deepest despair, we tried to keep the faith alive. Then one day Harakan came to our temple and sought me out privately. I had journeyed at times to Mal Yaska on Church business and I knew Harakan to be of high rank among the Chandim and very close to the Holy Disciple Urvon. When we were alone, he told me that Urvon had consulted the Oracles and Prophecies concerning the direction the Church must take in her blackest hour. The Disciple had discovered that a new God was destined to rise over Angarak, and that he will hold Cthrag Sardius in his right hand and Cthrag Yaska in his left. And he will be the almighty Child of Dark, and the Lord of Demons shall do his bidding.”
“That's a direct quotation, I take it?”
Arshag nodded. “From the eighth antistrophe of the Ashabine Oracles,” he confirmed.
“It's a little obscure, but prophecies usually are. Go on.”
Arshag shifted his position and continued. “The Disciple Urvon interpreted the passage to mean that our new God would have the aid of the demons in quelling his enemies.”
“Did Harakan identify these enemies for you?”
Arshag nodded again. “He mentioned Zandramas -of whom I have heard- and one named Agachak, whose name is strange to me. He also warned me that the Child of Light would probably attempt to interfere.”
“That's a reasonable assumption,” Silk murmured to Garion.
“Harakan, who is the Disciple's closest advisor, had selected me to perform a great task,” Arshag continued proudly. “He charged me to seek out the wizards of Karanda and to study their arts so that I might summon up the Demon Lord Nahaz and beseech him to aid the Disciple Urvon in his struggles with his enemies.”
“Did he tell you how dangerous that task would be?” Belgarath asked him.
“I understood the perils,” Arshag said, “but I accepted them willingly, for my rewards were to be great.”
“I'm sure,” Belgarath murmured. “Why didn't Harakan do it himself?”
“The Disciple Urvon had placed another task upon Harakan -somewhere in the west, I understand- having to do with a child.”
Belgarath nodded blandly. “I think I've heard about it.”
“Anyway.” Arshag went on, “I journeyed into the forest of the north, seeking out the wizards who still practiced their rites in places hidden from the eyes of the Church. In time, I found such a one.” His lip curled in a sneer. “He was an ignorant savage of small skill, at best only able to raise an imp or two, but he agreed to accept me as his pupil -and slave. It was he who saw fit to put these marks upon my body.” He glanced with distaste at his tattoos. “He kept me in a kennel and made me serve him and listen to his ravings. I learned what little he could teach me and then I strangled him and went in search of a more powerful teacher.”
“Note how deep the gratitude of Grolims goes,” Silk observed quietly to Garion, who was concentrating half on the story and half on the business of steering the scow.
“The years that followed were difficult,” Arshag continued. “I went from teacher to teacher, suffering enslavement and abuse.” A bleak smile crossed his face. “Occasionally, they used to sell me to other wizards -as one might sell a cow or a pig. After I learned the arts, I retraced my steps and repaid each one for his impertinences. At length, in a place near the barrens of the north, I was able to apprentice myself to an ancient man reputed to be the most powerful wizard in Karanda. He was very old, and his eyes were failing, so he took me for a young Karand seeking wisdom. He accepted me as his apprentice, and my training began in earnest. The raising of minor demons is no great chore, but summoning a Demon Lord is much more difficult and much more perilous. The wizard claimed to have done it twice in his life, but he may have been lying. He did, however, show me how to raise the image of the Demon Lord Nahaz and also how to communicate with him. No spell or incantation is powerful enough to compel a Demon Lord to come when he is called. He will come only if he consents to come -and usually for reasons of his own.
“Once I had learned all that the old wizard could teach me, I killed him and journeyed south toward Calida again.” He sighed a bit regretfully. “The old man was a kindly master, and I was sorry that I had to kill him.” Then he shrugged. “But he was old,” he added, “and I sent him off with a single knife stroke to the heart.”
“Steady, Durnik,” Silk said, putting his hand on the angry smith's arm.
“At Calida, I found the Temple in total disarray,” Arshag went on. “My brothers had finally succumbed to absolute despair, and the Temple had become a vile sink of corruption and degeneracy. I suppressed my outrage, however, and kept to myself. I dispatched word to Mal Yaska, advising Harakan that I had been successful in my mission and that I awaited his commands in the Temple at Calida. In time, I received a reply from one of the Chandim, who told me that Harakan had not yet returned from the west.” He paused. “Do you suppose that I could have a drink of water?” he asked. “I have a very foul taste in my mouth for some reason.”
Sadi went to the water cask in the stern and dipped out a tin cup of water. “No drug is completely perfect,” he murmured defensively to Garion in passing.
Arshag gratefully took the cup from Sadi and drank.
“Go on with your story,” Belgarath told him when he had finished.
Arshag nodded. “It was a bit less than a year ago that
Harakan returned from the west,” he said. “He came up to Calida, and he and I met in secret. I told him what I had accomplished and advised him of the limitations involved in any attempts to raise a Demon Lord. Then we went to a secluded place, and I instructed him in the incantations and spells which would raise an image of Nahaz and permit us to speak through the gate that lies between the worlds and communicate directly with Nahaz. Once I had established contact with the Demon Lord, Harakan began to speak with him. He mentioned Cthrag Sardius, but Nahaz already knew of it. And then Harakan told Nahaz that during the long years that Torak slept, the Disciple Urvon had become more and more obsessed with wealth and power and had at last convinced himself that he was in fact a demigod, and but one step removed from divinity. Harakan proposed an alliance between himself and Nahaz. He suggested that the Demon Lord nudge Urvon over the edge into madness and then aid him in defeating all the others who were seeking the hiding place of Cthrag Sardius. Unopposed, Urvon would easily gain the stone.”
“I gather that you chose to go along with them -instead of warning Urvon what was afoot? What did you get out of the arrangement?”
“They let me live.” Arshag shrugged. “I think Harakan wanted to kill me -just to be safe- but Nahaz told him that I could still be useful. He promised me kingdoms of my own to rule -and demon children to do my bidding. Harakan was won over by the Demon Lord and he treated me courteously.”
“I don't exactly see that there's much advantage to Nahaz in giving the Sardion to Urvon,” Belgarath confessed.
“Nahaz wants Cthrag Sardius for himself,” Arshag told him. “If Urvon has been driven mad, Nahaz will simply take Cthrag Sardius from him and replace it with a piece of worthless rock. Then the Demon Lord and Harakan will put Urvon in a house somewhere -Ashaba perhaps, or some other isolated castle- and they'll surround him with imps and lesser demons to blind him with illusions. There he will play at being God in blissful insanity while Nahaz and Harakan rule the world between them.”
“Until the real new God of Angarak arises,” Polgara added.
“There will be no new God of Angarak,” Arshag disagreed. “Once Nahaz puts his hand on Cthrag Sardius -the Sardion- both Prophecies will cease to exist. The Child of Light and the Child of Dark will vanish forever. The Elder Gods will be banished, and Nahaz will be Lord of the Universe and Master of the destinies of all mankind.”
“And what does Harakan get out of this?” Belgarath asked.
“Dominion of the Church -and the secular throne of all the world.”
“I hope he got that in writing,” Belgarath said dryly. “Demons are notorious for not keeping their promises. Then what happened?”
“A messenger arrived at Calida with instructions for Harakan from Urvon. The Disciple told him that there must be a disruption in Karanda so violent that Kal Zakath would have no choice but to return from Cthol Murgos. Once the Emperor was back in Mallorea, it would be a simple matter to have him killed, and once he is dead, Urvon believes that he can manipulate the succession to place a tractable man on the throne -one he can take with him when he goes to the place where the Sardion lies hidden. Apparently, this is one of the conditions which must be met before the new God arises.”
Belgarath nodded. “A great many things are starting to fall into place.” he said. “What happened then?”
“Harakan and I journeyed again in secret to that secluded place, and I once again opened the gate and brought forth the image of Nahaz. Harakan and the Demon Lord spoke together for a time, and suddenly the image was made flesh, and Nahaz himself stood before us.
Harakan instructed me that I should henceforth call him by the name Mengha, since the name Harakan is widely known in Mallorea, and then we went again to Calida, and Nahaz went with us. The Demon Lord summoned his hordes, and Calida fell. Nahaz demanded a certain repayment for his aid, and Lord Mengha instructed me to provide it. It was then that I discovered why Nahaz had let me live. We spoke together, and he told me what he wanted. I did not care for the notion, but the people involved were only Karands, so-“ He shrugged.”The Karands regard Nahaz as their God, and so it was not difficult for me to persuade young Karandese women that receiving the attentions of the Demon Lord would be a supreme honor. They went to him willingly , each one of them hoping in her heart to bear his offspring -not knowing, of course, that such a birth would rip them apart like fresh-gutted pigs.” He smirked contemptuously. “The rest I think you know.”
“Oh, yes, we do indeed.” Belgarath's voice was like a nail scraping across a flat stone. “When did they leave? Harakan and Nahaz, I mean? We know that they're no longer in this part of Karanda.”
“It was about a month ago. We were preparing to lay siege to Torpakan on the border of Delchin, and I awoke one morning to discover that Lord Mengha and the Demon Nahaz were gone and that none of their familiar demons were any longer with the army. Everyone looked to me, but none of my spells or incantations could raise even the least of demons. The army grew enraged, and I barely escaped with my life. I journeyed north again toward Calida, but found things there in total chaos. Without the demons to hold them in line, the Karands had quickly become unmanageable. I found that I could, however, still call up the image of Nahaz. It seemed likely to me that with Mengha and Nahaz gone, I could sway Karandese loyalty to me, if I used the image cleverly enough, and thus come to rule all of Karanda myself. I was attempting a beginning of that plan this morning when you interrupted.”
“I see,” Belgarath said bleakly.
“How long have you been in this vicinity?” Polgara asked the captive suddenly.
“Several weeks,” the Grolim replied.
“Good,” she said. “Some few weeks ago, a woman came from the west carrying a child.”
“I pay little attention to women.”
“This one might have been a bit different. We know that she came to that village back on the lake-shore and that she would have hired a boat. Did any word of that reach you?”
“There are few travelers in Karanda right now,” he told her. “There's too much turmoil and upheaval. There's only one boat that left that village in the past month. I'll tell you this, though. If the woman you seek was a friend of yours, and if she was on board that boat, prepare to mourn her.”
“Oh?”
“The boat sank in a sudden storm just off the city of Karand on the east-side of the lake in Ganesia.”
“The nice thing about Zandramas is her predictability,” Silk murmured to Garion. “I don't think we're going to have much trouble picking up her trail again, do you?”
Arshag's eyelids were drooping now, and he seemed barely able to hold his head erect.
“If you have any more questions for him, Ancient One, you should ask them quickly.” Sadi advised. “The drug is starting to wear off, and he's very close to sleep again.”
“I think I have all the answers I need,” the old man replied.
“And I have what I need as well,” Polgara added grimly.
Because of the size of the lake, there was no possibility of reaching the eastern shore before nightfall, and so they lowered the sails and set a sea anchor to minimize the nighttime drift of their scow. They set sail again at first light and shortly after noon saw a low, dark smudge along the eastern horizon.
“That would be the east-coast of the lake,” Silk said to Garion. “I'll go up to the bow and see if I can pick out some landmarks. I don't think we'll want to run right up to the wharves of Karand, do you?”
“No. Not really.”
“I'll see if I can find us a quiet cove someplace, and then we can have a look around without attracting attention.”
They beached the scow in a quiet bay surrounded by high sand dunes and scrubby brush about midafternoon.
“What do you think, Grandfather?” Garion asked after they had unloaded the horses.
“About what?”
“The boat. What should we do with it?”
“Set it adrift. Let's not announce that we came ashore here.”
“I suppose you're right.” Garion sighed a bit regretfully. “It wasn't a bad boat, though, was it?”
“It didn't tip over.”
“Capsize,” Garion corrected.
Polgara came over to where they were standing. “Do you have any further need for Arshag?” she asked the old man.
“No, and I've been trying to decide what to do with him.”
“I'll take care of it, father,” she said. She turned and went back to where Arshag still lay, once more bound and half asleep on the beach. She stood over him for a moment, then raised one hand. The Grolim flinched wildly even as Garion felt the sudden powerful surge of her will.
“Listen carefully, Arshag,” she said. “You provided the Demon Lord with women so that he could unloose an abomination upon the world. That act must not go unrewarded. This, then, is your reward. You are now invincible. No one can kill you -no man, no demon- not even you yourself. But, no one will ever again believe a single word that you say. You will be faced with constant ridicule and derision all the days of your life and you will be driven out wherever you go, to wander the world as a rootless vagabond. Thus are you repaid for aiding Mengha and helping him to unleash Nahaz and for sacrificing foolish women to the Demon Lord's unspeakable lust.” She turned to Durnik. “Untie him,” she commanded.
When his arms and legs were free, Arshag stumbled to his feet, his tattooed face ashen. “Who are you, woman?” he demanded in a shaking voice, “and what power do you have to pronounce so terrible a curse?”
“I am Polgara,” she replied. “You may have heard of me. Now go!” She pointed up the beach with an imperious finger.
As if suddenly seized by an irresistible compulsion, Arshag turned, his face filled with horror. He stumbled up one of the sandy dunes and disappeared on the far side.
“Do you think it was wise to reveal your identity, my lady?” Sadi asked dubiously.
“There's no danger, Sadi.” She smiled. “He can shout my name from every rooftop, but no one will believe him.”
“How long will he live?” Ce'Nedra's voice was very small.
“Indefinitely, I'd imagine. Long enough, certainly, to give him time to appreciate fully the enormity of what it was that he did.”
Ce'Nedra stared at her. “Lady Polgara!” she said in a sick voice. “How could you do it? It's horrible.”
“Yes,” Polgara replied, “it is -but so was what happened back at that temple we burned.”