As they emerged from the house, Garion went immediately to Chretienne and swung up into his saddle.
“What have you got in mind?” Silk asked him.
“I’m going to stay on the trail,” Garion replied.
“Why? All it’s going to do is run down to that cove the lady mentioned and then go out to sea again.”
Garion looked at him helplessly.
“I’d say that the best thing for us to do right now is get back to Melcena as quickly as possible. I have a lot of people working for me there. I’ll saturate those commercial wharves with men—the same way we did in Jarot. Naradas won’t be hard to follow.”
“Why don’t I just take the Orb and go down to the wharves myself?” Garion protested.
“Because all you’ll find out that way is which wharf she sailed from. We need more than that.” Silk looked sympathetically at his friend. “I know you’re impatient, Garion—we all are—but my way’s going to be faster, actually. My people can find out when Zandramas sailed and where she was going. That’s the thing we really have to know.”
“All right, then,” Belgarath said, “let’s ride.” They mounted quickly and rode at a canter back up the drive to the road. Then they went south toward Melcena at a gallop.
It was about noon when they reached the north gate and not long after that when they dismounted in front of Silk’s house. They went inside and on up the stairs to the sitting room. “Would you ask Vetter to come up?” the little man asked a passing servant as they entered the room.
“At once, your Highness.”
“I’d say we’d better pack again,” Silk suggested, removing his businessman’s robe. “As soon as we find out where Zandramas is going, I think we’ll be leaving again.”
Sadi smiled faintly. “Poor Zith,” he murmured. “She’s getting very tired of traveling.”
“She’s not the only one,” Velvet said a bit ruefully. “When this is all over, I don’t think I’ll ever want even to look at another horse.”
There was a polite knock at the door, and Vetter opened it. “You wanted to see me, your Highness?” he asked.
“Yes, Vetter. Come in, please.” Silk was pacing up and down, his eyes deep in thought. “We’ve been looking for some people,” he said.
“I surmised as much, your Highness.”
“Good. We know that these people came to Melcena not too long back. Then they left again about three days ago. We need to know where they went.”
“Very well, your Highness. Can you give me a description?”
“I was just getting to that. There were two men, a woman, and a small boy. One of the men was the Archduke Otrath. Do you know him?”
Vetter nodded. “I can give our people an accurate description of him, yes.”
“Very good, Vetter. The other man is named Naradas.”
“I've heard the name, your Highness, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him.”
“You wouldn’t have forgotten him. His eyes are totally white.”
“He’s a blind man?”
“No, but his eyes have no color to them.”
“That should make things simpler.”
“I thought it might. The woman’s been going to some trouble to keep her face covered, but she should be with the archduke and Naradas. We’ve picked up the information that they may have sailed from one of the commercial wharves to the south of the city. Start out by concentrating the search there. Send every man you can put your hands on down there. Have them talk with everybody on those wharves. We need information and we need it fast. Spread money around if you have to. I want to know when they left, on which ship, and where they were going. If the ship happens to be back in port, bring me one of the sailors—or even better yet, the captain. Speed is essential, Vetter.”
“I’ll see to it at once, your Highness. I’ll have several hundred men on those wharves within the hour and I’ll keep you posted about the progress of the search. Will there be anything else?”
Silk frowned. “Yes,” he decided. “We came to Melcena aboard one of our own ships. It should still be down in the harbor. Send someone to the captain and tell him to make ready to sail again. We’ll be leaving as soon as we get the information.”
“I’ll attend to it.” Vetter bowed and quietly left the room.
“He seems like a good man,” Beldin noted.
“One of the best,” Silk agreed. “He gets things done and he never gets excited.” The little man smiled. “I’ve heard that Bradors been trying to lure him back, but I’ve got more money than Brador has.”
Beldin grunted and looked at Belgarath. “We’ve got some things to sort out,” he said. “Why is Zandramas saddling herself with this archduke? This whole side trip of hers didn’t make any sense at all.”
“Of course it did.”
“I’m sure you’ll explain that to me—sometime in the next week or so.”
Belgarath fished around inside his tunic and pulled out a tattered scrap of paper. He looked at it. “This is it,” he grunted. He held the paper out in front of him. “ ‘Behold:’ “ he read. “ ‘In the days which shall follow the ascension of the Dark God into the heavens shall the King of the East and the King of the South do war upon each other, and this shall be a sign unto ye that the day of the meeting is at hand. Hasten therefore unto the Place Which Is No More when battles do rage upon the plains of the South. Take with thee the chosen sacrifice and a King of Angarak to bear witness to what shall come to pass. For lo, whichever of ye cometh into the presence of Cthrag Sardius with the sacrifice and an Angarak king shall be exalted above all the rest and shall have dominion over them. And know further that in the moment of sacrifice shall the Dark God be reborn, and he shall triumph over the Child of Light in the instant of his rebirth.’ “
“What a fascinating piece of gibberish,” Beldin said. “Where did you come by it?”
“We picked it up in Cthol Murgos.” Belgarath shrugged. “It’s a part of the Grolim Prophecies of Rak Cthol. I told you about it before.”
“No,” Beldin disagreed, “as a matter of fact, you didn’t.”
“I must have.”
“I’m sorry, Belgarath,” the grubby little man said from between clenched teeth, “you didn’t.”
“What an amazing thing.” Belgarath frowned. “It must have completely slipped my mind.”
“We knew it was going to happen eventually, Pol,” Beldin said. “The old boy’s finally slipped over the line into senility.”
“Be nice, uncle,” she murmured.
“Are you positive I didn’t tell you about this?” Belgarath said a little plaintively.
“There’s no such thing as positive,” Beldin replied, automatically, it seemed.
“I’m awfully glad you said that,” Belgarath said just a bit smugly.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Don’t try to use my own prejudices against me. Where does this Grolim insanity put us?”
“Grolims obey orders beyond the point of reason.”
“So do we, when you get down to it.”
“Perhaps, but at least we question the orders now and then. Grolims don’t. They follow instructions blindly. When we were in Rak Urga, we saw the Hierarch Agachak bullying King Urgit about this. Agachak knows that he has to have an Angarak king in tow if he’s going to have any chance at all when he gets to this place of the final meeting. He’s going to take Urgit, even if he has to drag him by the hair. Up until now, Zandramas hasn’t bothered herself about the requirement.”
“She must be planning to kill Zakath, then,” Durnik said, “and then put this archduke on the throne in his place.”
“She won’t even have to do that, Durnik. All you need to be called a king in Angarak society is a hint of royal blood, a coronation ceremony, and recognition by a major Grolim priest. Back in the old days, every clan-chief was a king. It didn’t really matter that much, because all the power was in the hands of Torak anyway. They all had crowns and thrones, though. Anyway, Zandramas is a recognized Grolim priest—or priestess, in this case. Otrath is of royal blood. A coronation, spurious or not, would qualify him as a King of Angarak, and that would satisfy the prophecy.”
“It still seems a little questionable to me,” Durnik said.
“This comes from a man whose people elected a rutabaga farmer as their first king,” Beldin said.
“Actually, Fundor the Magnificent wasn’t a bad king,” Belgarath said. “At least, once he got the hang of it all. Fanners always make good kings. They know what’s important. At any rate, Otrath will be king enough to fulfill the prophecy, and that means that Zandramas has everything she needs now. She has Geran and an Angarak king.”
“Do we need one, too?” Durnik asked. “An Angarak king, I mean?”
“No. We’d need an Alorn King. I think Garion qualifies.”
“It wasn’t this complicated last time, was it?”
“Actually it was. Garion was already the Rivan King as well as the Child of Light. Torak was both king and God, and he was the Child of Dark.”
“Who was the sacrifice, then?”
Belgarath smiled affectionately at the good man. “You were, Durnik,” he said gently. “Remember?”
“Oh,” Durnik said, looking a bit embarrassed. “I forget about that sometimes.”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” Beldin growled. “Getting killed is the sort of thing that might tend to make one’s memory wander just a bit.”
“That’s enough of that, uncle,” Polgara said dangerously, putting a protective arm about Durnik’s shoulders.
Garion suddenly realized that not one of them had ever spoken with Durnik about that terrible time between the moment Zedar had killed him and the moment when the Orb and the Gods had returned him to life. He had the very strong feeling that Polgara fully intended to keep it that way.
“She’s completed all her tasks then, hasn’t she?” Ce’Nedra asked sadly. “Zandramas, I mean. She has my son and an Angarak king. I do so wish I could see him one more time before I die.”
“Die?” Garion asked incredulously. “What do you mean, die?”
“One of us is going to,” she said simply. “I’m sure it’s going to be me. There’s no other reason for me being along, is there? We all have tasks to perform. Mine is to die, I think.”
“Nonsense!”
“Really?” She sighed.
“Actually, Zandramas still has several more tasks,” Belgarath told her. “She has to deal with Urvon at the very least.”
“And Agachak, I think,” Sadi added. “He wants to play, too, as I recall.”
“Agachak’s in Cthol Murgos,” Silk objected.
“So were we—until some months back,” the eunuch pointed out. “All it takes to get to Mallorea from Cthol Murgos is a boat and a little luck with the weather.”
“Zandramas has one other thing she has to do as well,” Velvet said, moving over until she was beside Ce’Nedra and wrapping her arms about the sad little queen.
“Oh?” Ce’Nedra said without much interest. “What’s that?”
“The prophecy told Garion that she still doesn’t know where the Place Which Is No More is. She can’t go there until she finds out, can she?”
Ce’Nedra’s face brightened just a bit. “That’s true, isn’t it?” she conceded. “I suppose it’s something,” she said, laying her head against Velvet’s shoulder.
“Zandramas isn’t the only one with things left to do,” Belgarath said. “I still have to find an unmutilated copy of the Ashabine Oracles.” He looked at Silk. “How long do you think it’s going to take your men to find out what we need to know?”
Silk spread his hands. “It’s a little hard to say,” he admitted. “A lot could depend on luck. A day at the most, I’d imagine.”
“How fast is that ship of yours?” Garion asked him. “I mean, can it go any faster than it did when we were coming here?”
“Not by very much,” Silk replied. “Melcenes are better shipbuilders than Angaraks, but that ship was built to carry cargo, not to win races. If the wind gets too strong, the captain’s going to have to shorten his sails.”
“I’d give a lot to have a Cherek warship right now,” Garion said. “A fast boat could make up for a lot of lost time.” He gazed thoughtfully at the floor. “It wouldn’t really be too hard, would it?” he suggested. He looked at Belgarath. “Maybe you and I could put our heads together, and—” He made a kind of vague gesture with his hand.
“Uh—Garion,” Durnik interrupted him, “even if you did have a Cherek boat, who would you find to sail her? I don’t think the sailors here would understand what’s involved.”
“Oh,” Garion said glumly. “I hadn’t thought about that, I guess.”
There was a light rap at the door, and Vetter entered carrying a sheaf of parchments. “The men have been dispatched to the south wharves, your Highness,” he reported. “You suggested that the matter was of some urgency, so I took the liberty of posting couriers on fast horses to central locations near the waterfront. As soon as anyone gets news of any kind, the word should reach us here within five minutes.” He glanced at Ce’Nedra. “I hope that will relieve some of her Majesty’s anxiety,” he added.
“Her—” Silk burst out, then controlled himself. He stared at his factor for a moment, then burst out laughing. “How did you find out, Vetter?” he asked. “I didn’t introduce anybody.”
“Please, your Highness,” Vetter replied with a pained look. “You didn’t engage me in this position to be stupid, did you? I’ve maintained certain contacts with my former associates in Mal Zeth, so I more or less know who your guests are and what your mission is. You chose not to mention the matter, so I didn’t make an issue of it, but you aren’t paying me to keep my eyes and ears closed, are you?”
“Don’t you just love Melcenes?” Velvet said to Sadi.
Sadi, however, was already looking at Vetter with a certain interest. “It may just happen that in time I’ll be able to resolve the slight misunderstanding I presently have with my queen,” he said delicately to Silk’s factor. “Should that happen, I might want to make you aware of certain employment opportunities in Sthiss Tor.”
“Sadi!” Silk gasped.
“Business is business, Prince Kheldar,” Sadi said blandly.
Vetter smiled. “There are these few documents, your Highness,” he said to Silk, handing over the parchments he carried. “As long as you’re waiting, I thought you might want to glance at them. A few require your signature.”
Silk sighed. “I suppose I might as well,” he agreed.
“It does save time, your Highness. Sometimes it takes quite a while for things to catch up with you.”
Silk riffled through the stack. “This all seems fairly routine. Is there anything else of note going on?”
“The house is being watched, your Highness,” Vetter reported. “A couple of Rolla’s secret policemen. I imagine they’ll try to follow you when you leave.”
Silk frowned. “I’d forgotten about him. Is there some way to get them off our trail?”
“I think I can manage that for your Highness.”
“Nothing fatal, though,” Silk cautioned. “The Rivan King here disapproves of random fatalities.” He grinned at Garion.
“I think we’ll be able to deal with the situation without bloodshed, your Highness.”
“Anything else I should know about?”
“The Consortium will make an offer on our bean holdings tomorrow morning,” Vetter replied. “They’ll start at three points below market and go as high as five above it.”
“How did you find that out?” Silk looked amazed.
“I’ve bribed one of the members.” Vetter shrugged. “I promised to give him a quarter point commission on everything over ten—a bit generous, perhaps, but we may need him again sometime, and now I’ll have a hold on him.”
“That’s worth a quarter of a point right there.”
“I thought so myself, your Highness.” Vetter laughed suddenly. “Oh, one other thing, Prince Kheldar. We have this investment opportunity.”
“Oh?”
“Actually, it’s more in the nature of a charitable contribution.”
“I gave at the office,” Silk said with an absolutely straight face. Then his nose twitched slightly. “It wouldn’t hurt to hear about it, though, I guess.”
“There’s a very grubby little alchemist at the university,” Vetter explained. “He absolutely swears that he can turn brass into gold.”
“Well, now.” Silk’s eyes brightened.
Vetter held up a cautioning hand. “The cost, however, is prohibitive at this time. It doesn’t make much sense to spend two pieces of gold to get back one.”
“No, I wouldn’t say so.”
“The little clubfoot maintains that he can reduce the cost, though. He’s been approaching every businessman in Melcena about the project. He needs a rich patron to underwrite the cost of his experiments.”
“Did you look into the matter at all?”
“Of course. Unless he’s a very skilled trickster, it appears that he actually can turn brass into gold. He has a rather peculiar reputation. They say that he’s been around for centuries. He’s got a bad temper and he smells awful— the chemicals he uses, I understand.”
Belgarath’s eyes suddenly went very wide. “What did you call him?” he demanded.
“I don’t believe I mentioned his name, Ancient One,” Vetter replied. “He’s called Senji.”
“I don’t mean his name. Describe him.”
“He’s short and mostly bald. He wears a beard—though most of his whiskers have been singed off. Sometimes his experiments go awry, and there have been explosions. Oh, and he has a clubfoot—the left one, I believe.”
“That’s it!” Belgarath exclaimed, snapping his fingers.
“Don’t be cryptic, father,” Polgara said primly.
“The prophecy told Garion that somebody was going to say something to us in passing today that was very important. This is it.”
“I don’t quite—”
“At Ashaba, Cyradis told us to seek out the clubfooted one because he’d help us in our search.”
“There are many men with clubfeet in the world, father.”
“I know, but the prophecy went out of its way to introduce this one.”
“Introduce?”
“Maybe that’s the wrong word, but you know what I mean.”
“It does sort of fit, Pol,” Beldin said. “As I remember, we were talking about the Ashabine Oracles when Cyradis told us about this clubfoot. She said that Zandramas has one uncut copy, Nahaz has another, and that this clubfoot has the third—or knows where it is.”
“It’s pretty thin, Belgarath,” Durnik said dubiously.
“We’ve got time enough to chase it down,” the old man replied. “We can’t go anywhere until we find out where Zandramas is going anyway.” He looked at Vetter. “Where do we find this Senji?”
“He’s on the faculty of the College of Applied Alchemy at the university, Ancient One.”
“All right, I’ll take Garion and we’ll go there. The rest of you might as well get ready to leave.”
“Grandfather,” Garion protested, “I have to stay here. I want to hear the word about Zandramas with my own ears.”
“Pol can listen for you. I might need you along to help persuade the alchemist to talk to me. Bring the Orb, but leave the sword behind.”
“Why the Orb?”
“Let’s just call it a hunch.”
“I’ll come with you,” Beldin said, rising to his feet.
“There’s no need of that.”
“Oh, yes there is. Your memory seems to be failing a bit, Belgarath. You forget to tell me things. If I’m there when you locate the Oracles, I’ll be able to save you all the time and trouble of trying to remember.”