The Malloreon 
Part Four 


SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 

David Eddings 

PROLOGUE 
Being a Brief History of the Eastern Empire. 
—from Emperors of Melcena and Mallorea University of Melcene Press 
The origins of the Melcene Empire are forever lost to us. Some 
legends maintain that the precursors of the Mel-cenes came in rude 
canoes out of the vast sea lying east of the Melcene Islands; others 
contend that the ancestral Melcene was an offshoot of that curious 
culture existing in Dal-asia. Whatever the source, however, Melcena 
stands as the oldest civilization on the earth. 
Melcena has always been closely allied with the sea, and her original 
home lay in the islands off the east coast of the Mallorean 
continent. The capital at Melcena was a city of light and culture 
when Tol Honeth was a rude village and 
1 
2 SORCERESS OP DARSHIVA 
Mal Zeth was only a shabby cluster of tents. Only Kell stood in 
contemplation of the heavens to rival the ancestral home of the 
Melcenes. 
It was the advent of a catastrophe which caused Melcena to abandon 
its splendid isolation. At a time estimated to be five thousand years 
ago, a disaster occurred far to the west. The Angaraks and Alorns 
blame this on a theological dispute between the Gods. Such 
explanation is not to be taken seriously, but it does give some 
insight into the gropings of primitive minds to explain the forces of 
nature. 
Whatever the source, the cataclysm involved a great split in the 
protocontinent and engendered colossal tidal waves. The seas first 
fell, then rose, and ultimately came to rest at more or less the 
present shoreline. For Melcena, this was disastrous. Fully half the 
land area of ancient Melcena was lost to the sea. Although the loss 


of property was enormous, the bulk of the people were saved. This 
left a pitifully overcrowded population clinging to the remnants of 
their former islands. The capital at Melcena had been a fair city in 
the mountains, where affairs could be managed without the 
debilitating effects of the climate in the tropical lowlands. 
Following the catastrophe, Melcena was a shattered city, destroyed by 
earthquake and flood, lying no more than a league from the new coast. 
After a period of rebuilding, it became clear that the shrunken 
homeland could no longer support the population. Thus the Melcenes 
turned to the mainland. Southeastern Mallorea lay closest, a region 
populated by peoples of their own racial stock with a compatible, 
though corrupted, language; to that region the Melcenes turned their 
attention. There were five primitive kingdoms in the area—Gandahar, 
Darshiva, Celanta, Peldane, and Rengel. These were quickly overrun by 
the technologically superior Melcenes and were absorbed into their 
growing empire. 
The dominating force in the Melcene Empire was the bureaucracy. While 
there were drawbacks to a bureaucratic form of government, it 
provided the advantages of continuity and a clear-eyed pragmatism 
more concerned with finding the most practical way to get the job 
done than with whim, prejudice, and egocentricity, which so 
frequently move other forms of government. Melcene bureaucracy was 
DAVID EDDINGS 3 
practical almost to a fault. The concept of "an aristocracy of 
talent" dominated Melcene thinking. If one bureau ignored a talented 
individual, another was almost certain to snap him up. 
The various departments of the Melcene government rushed into the 
newly conquered mainland provinces to winnow through the population 
in search of genius. The conquered peoples were thus absorbed 
directly into the mainstream of the life of the empire. Always 
pragmatic, the Melcenes left the royal houses of the five mainland 
provinces in place, preferring to operate mrough established lines of 
authority rather than set up new ones. 
For the next fourteen hundred years, the Melcene Empire prospered, 
far removed from the theological and political squabbles of the 
western continent. Melcene culture was secular, civilized, and highly 
educated. Slavery was unknown, and trade with the Angaraks and their 
subject peoples in Kar-anda and Dalasia was extremely profitable. The 
old capital at Melcena became a major center of learning. 
Unfortunately, some Melcene scholars turned toward the arcane. Their 
summoning of evil spirits went far beyond the mumbo jumbo of the 
Morindim or the Karandese and began to delve into darker and more 
serious areas. They made progress in witchcraft and necromancy. But 
the major interest lay in the field of alchemy. 
The first encounter with the Angaraks took place during this period. 
Although victorious in that first meeting, the Melcenes realized that 


eventually the Angaraks would overwhelm them by sheer weight of 
numbers. 
While the Angaraks bent most of their efforts to the establishment of 
the Dalasian Protectorates, there was a wary, tentative peace. The 
trade contacts between the two nations yielded a somewhat better 
understanding of each other, though the Melcenes were amused by the 
preoccupation with religion of even the most worldly Angarak. Over 
the next eighteen hundred years relations between the two nations 
deteriorated into little wars, seldom lasting more than a year or 
two. Both sides scrupulously avoided committing their full forces, 
obviously not wishing all-out confrontation. 
To gain more information about each other, the two nations developed 
a tradition of exchanging the children of various 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
leaders for certain periods of time. The sons of high-ranking Melcene 
bureaucrats were sent to Mal Zeth to live with the families of 
Angarak generals, and the generals' sons were sent to the imperial 
capital to be raised. The result was a group of young men with 
cosmopolitanism which later became the norm for the ruling class of 
the Mallorean Empire. 
One such exchange toward the end of the fourth millennium ultimately 
resulted in the unification of the two peoples. At about the age of 
twelve, a youth named Kallath, son of a high-ranking Angarak general, 
was sent to Melcena to spend his formative years in the household of 
the Imperial Minister of Foreign Affairs. The minister had frequent 
official and social contacts with the imperial family, and Kallath 
soon became a welcome guest at the imperial palace. Emperor Molvan 
was an elderly man with but one surviving child, a daughter named 
Danera, perhaps a year younger than Kallath. Matters between the two 
youngsters progressed in a not uncommon fashion until Kallath was 
recalled at eighteen to Mal Zeth to begin his military career. 
Kallath rose meteori-cally through the ranks to the position of 
Governor-General of the District of Rakuth by the time he was twentyeight, 
thereby becoming the youngest man ever elevated to the General 
Staff. A year later he journeyed to Melcene, where he and Princess 
Danera were married. 
In the years that followed, Kallath divided his time between Melcena 
and Mal Zeth, building a power base in each, and when Emperor Molvan 
died in 3829, he was ready. There had been others in line for the 
throne, but most of these had died—frequently under mysterious 
circumstances. It was, nonetheless, over the violent objections of 
many noble families of Melcena that Kallath was declared Emperor of 
Melcena in 3830; these objections were quieted with brutal efficiency 
by Kallath's cohorts. Danera had produced seven healthy children to 
insure that Kallath s line would continue. 
Journeying to Mal Zeth the following year, Kallath brought the 


Melcene array to the border of Delchin, where it stood poised. At Mal 
Zeth, Kallath delivered an ultimatum to the General Staff. His forces 
comprised the army of his own district of Rakuth and of the eastern 
principalities in Karand, where the Angarak military governors had 
sworn allegiance to him. Together with the army on the Delchin 
border, these 
DAVID EDDINGS 5 
gave him absolute military supremacy. His demand was to be appointed 
OverGeneral of the armies of Angarak. There were precedents. In the 
past, an occasional general had been granted that office, though it 
was far more common for the General Staff to rule jointly. But 
Kallath's demand brought something new into the picture. His position 
as emperor was hereditary, and he insisted that the OverGeneralship 
of Angarak also be passed to his heirs. Helplessly, the generals 
acceded to his demands. Kallath stood supreme on the continent as 
Emperor of Melcene and Commander in Chief of Angarak. 
The integration of Melcene and Angarak was turbulent, but in the end, 
Melcene patience won out over Angarak brutality, as it became evident 
over the years that the Melcene bureaucracy was infinitely more 
efficient than Angarak military administration. The bureaucracy first 
moved on such mundane matters as standards and currency. From there 
it was but a short step to establishing a continental Bureau of 
Roads. Within a few hundred years, the bureaucracy ran virtually 
every aspect of life on the continent. As always, it gathered up 
talented men and women from every corner of Mallorea, regardless of 
race; soon administrative units comprised of Melcenes, Karands, 
Dalasians, and Angaraks were not at all uncommon. By 4400, the 
bureaucratic ascendancy was complete. In the interim, the title of 
OverGeneral had begun to fall into disuse, perhaps because the 
bureaucracy customarily addressed all communications to "the 
Emperor." There appears to have been no specific date when the 
Emperor of Melcena became the Emperor of Mallorea, and such usage was 
never formally approved until after the disastrous adventure in the 
West which ended in the Battle of Vo Mimbre. 
The conversion of Melcenes to the worship of Torak was at best 
superficial. They pragmatically accepted the forms of Angarak worship 
out of political expediency, but the Grolims were unable to command 
the abject submission to the Dragon God which had always 
characterized the Angaraks. 
In 4850, Torak himself suddenly emerged from his eons of seclusion at 
Ashaba. A vast shock ran through Mallorea as the living God, his 
maimed face concealed behind a polished steel mask, appeared at the 
gates of Mal Zeth. The Emperor 
6 SORCERESS OP DARSHIVA 
was disdainfully set aside, and Torak assumed full authority as 
"Kal"—King and God. Messengers were dispatched to Cthol Murgos, 


Mishrak ac Thull, and Gar og Nadrak, and a council of war was held at 
Mal Zeth in 4852. The Dalasians, Karands, and Melcenes were stunned 
by the appearance of a figure they had always thought purely 
mythical, and their shock was compounded by die presence of Torak's 
disciples. 
Torak was a God and did not speak, except to issue commands. But the 
Disciples, Ctuchik, Zedar, and Urvon, were men and they probed and 
examined everything with a kind of cold disdain. They saw at once 
that Mallorean society had become almost totally secular—and took 
steps to rectify the situation. A reign of terror descended upon 
Mallorea. Gro-lims were everywhere, and secularism was a form of 
heresy to them. The sacrifices, long virtually unknown, were renewed 
with fanatic enthusiasm; soon not a village in all Mallorea did not 
have its altar and reeking bonfire. In one stroke, Torak's disciples 
overturned millennia of military and bureaucratic rule and returned 
absolute dominion to the Gro-lims. Soon mere was not one facet of 
Mallorean life that did not bow abjectly to the will of Torak. 
The mobilization of MaUorea in preparation for the war with the West 
virtually depopulated the continent, and the disaster at Vo Mimbre 
wiped out an entire generation. The catastrophic campaign, coupled 
with the apparent death of Torak at the hands of the Rivan Warder, 
utterly demoralized MaUorea. The doddering old emperor emerged from 
retirement to try to rebuild the shattered bureaucracy. Grolim 
efforts to maintain control were met with universal hatred. Without 
Torak, they had no real power. Most of the emperor's sons had 
perished at Vo Mimbre, but one gifted child remained, a boy of seven, 
the son of his old age. The emperor spent his few remaining years 
instructing and preparing his son for the task of ruling. When age 
finally rendered the emperor incompetent, Korzeth, then about 
fourteen, callously deposed his father and ascended the imperial 
throne. 
After the war, Mallorean society had fractured back to its original 
components of Melcena, Karanda, Dalasia, and Mallorea Antiqua. There 
was even a movement to disintegrate further into the prehistoric 
kingdoms which had existed before the coming of the Angaraks. This 
movement was par- 
DAVID EDDINGS 7 
ticularly strong in the principality of Gandahar in southern Melcena, 
in Zamad and Voresebo in Karanda, and in Perivor in the Dalasian 
Protectorates. Deceived by Korzeth *s youth, these regions rashly 
declared independence from the imperial throne at Mat Zeth, and other 
principalities gave indications that they would soon follow suit. 
Korzeth moved immediately to stem the tide of revolution. The boy 
emperor spent the rest of his life on horseback in perhaps the 
greatest bloodbath in history; but when he was done, he delivered a 
reunified Mallorea to his successor to the throne. 


The descendants of Korzeth brought a ditferent kind of rule to the 
continent. Before the disastrous war, the Emperor of Mallorea had 
often been little more than a figurehead, and power had largely 
rested with the bureaucracy. But now the imperial throne was 
absolute. The center of power shifted from Melcena to Mal Zeth in 
keeping with the military orientation of Korzeth and his descendants. 
As is usual when power rests in the hands of one supreme ruler, 
intrigue became commonplace. Plots and conspiracies abounded as 
various functionaries schemed to discredit rivals and gain imperial 
favor. Rather than trying to stop these palace intrigues, Korzeth's 
descendants encouraged them, perceiving that men divided by mutual 
distrust could never unite to challenge the power of the throne. 
The present emperor, Zakath, assumed the throne during his eighteenth 
year. Intelligent, sensitive, and capable, he gave early promise of 
enlightened rule. A personal tragedy, however, turned him from that 
course and made him a man feared by half the world. Now he is 
obsessed with the concept of power; the idea of becoming Overking of 
all the Angaraks has dominated his thoughts for the past two decades. 
Only time will determine if Zakath will succeed in asserting 
dominance over the Western Angarak Kingdoms, but if he succeeds, the 
history of the entire world may be profoundly altered. 
Part One 
MELGENA 
CHAPTER ONE 
Her Majesty, Queen Porenn of Drasnia, was in a pensive mood. She 
stood at the window of her pink-frilled sitting room in the palace at 
Boktor watching her son Kheva and Unrak, the son of Barak of 
Trellheim, at play in a garden drenched with morning sunlight. The 
boys had reached that age where sometimes it seemed almost possible 
to see them growing, and their voices wavered uncertainly between 
boyish soprano and manly baritone. Porenn sighed, smoothing the front 
of her black gown. The Queen of Drasnia had worn black since the 
death of her husband. "You would be proud of him, my dear Rhodar," 
she whispered sadly. 
There was a light knock at her door. 
"Yes?" she replied, not turning. 
11 
12 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
13 
"There's a Nadrak here to see you, your Majesty," the aged butler at 
the door reported. "He says you know him." 
"Oh?" 
"He says his name is Yarblek." 
"Oh, yes. Prince Kheldar's associate. Show him in, please." 


"There's a woman with him, your Majesty," the butler said with a 
disapproving expression. "She uses language your Majesty might prefer 
not to hear." 
Porenn smiled warmly. "That must be Vella," she said. "I've heard her 
swear before. I don't know that she's really all that serious about 
it. Show them both in, if you would, please." 
"At once, your Majesty." 
Yarblek was as shabby as ever. At some point, the shoulder seam of 
his long black overcoat had given way and had been rudimentarily 
repaired with a piece of rawhide thong. His beard was coarse and 
black and scraggly, his hair was unkempt, and he looked as if he 
didn't smell very good. "Your Majesty," he said grandly, attempting a 
bow which was marred a bit by an unsteady lurch. 
"Drunk already, Master Yarblek?" Porenn asked him archly. 
"No, not really, Porenn," he replied, unabashed. "It's just a little 
carry-over from last night." 
The queen was not offended by the Nadrak's use of her first name. 
Yarblek's grip on formality had never been very firm. 
The woman who had entered with him was a stunningly beautiful Nadrak 
with blue-black hair and smoldering eyes. She was dressed in tightfitting 
leather trousers and a black leather vest. A silver-hilled 
dagger protruded from each of her boot tops, and two more were tucked 
under the wide leather belt about her waist. She bowed with infinite 
grace. "You're looking tired, Porenn," she observed. "I think you 
need more sleep." 
Porenn laughed. "Tell that to the people who bring me stacks of 
parchment every hour or so." 
"I made myself a rule years ago," Yarblek said, sprawling uninvited 
in a chair. "Never put anything down 
in writing. It saves time as well as keeping me out of trouble.' * 
"It seems to me that I've heard Kheldar say the same thing." 
Yarblek shrugged. "Silk's got a good grip on reality." 
"I haven't seen you two for quite some time," Porenn noted, also 
sitting. 
"We've been in Mallorea," Vella told her, wandering around the room 
and looking appraisingly at the furnishings. 
"Isn't that dangerous? I've heard that there's plague there." 
"It's pretty much confined to Mal Zeth," Yarblek replied. "Polgara 
persuaded the Emperor to seal up the city." 
"Polgara?" Porenn exclaimed, coming to her feet. "What's she doing in 
Mallorea?" 
"She was going in the general direction of a place called Ashaba the 
last time I saw her. She had Belgarath and the others with her." 
"How did they get to Mallorea?" 
"By boat, I'd imagine. It's a long swim." 
"Yarblek, am I going to have to drag every single scrap of 


information out of you?" Porenn demanded in exasperation. 
"I'm getting to it, Porenn," he said, sounding a little injured. "Do 
you want the story first or the messages? I've got lots of messages 
for you, and Vella's got a couple more that she won't even talk 
about—at least not to me." 
"Just start at the beginning, Yarblek." 
"Any way you want it." He scratched at his beard. "The way I got the 
story is that Silk and Belgarath and the others were in Cthol Murgos. 
They got captured by the Mallo-reans, and Zakath took them all to Mal 
Zeth. The young fellow with the big sword—Belgarion, isn't it? 
Anyway, he and Zakath got to be friends—" 
"Garion and Zakath?" Porenn asked incredulously. "How?" 
"I wouldn't know. I wasn't there when it happened. To make it short, 
they were friends, but then the plague broke 
14 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
15 
out in Mal Zeth. I managed to sneak Silk and the others out of the 
city, and we went north. We separated before we got to Venna. They 
wanted to go to this Ashaba place, and I had a caravan load of goods 
I wanted to get to Yar Marak. Made a fairly good profit, actually." 
"Why were they going to Ashaba?" 
"They were after some woman named Zandramas—the one who abducted 
Belgarion's son." 
"A woman! Zandramas is a woman?" 
"So they told me. Belgarath gave me a letter for you. It's all in 
there. I told him that he shouldn't write it down, but he wouldn't 
listen to me." Yarblek unwound himself from his chair, fished around 
inside his overcoat, and handed a rumpled and none-too-clean piece of 
parchment to the queen. Then he strolled to the window and looked 
out. "Isn't that Trellheim's boy down there?" he asked. "The husky 
one with the red hair?" 
Porenn was reading the parchment. "Yes," she said absently, trying to 
concentrate on the message. 
"Is he here? Trellheim, I mean?" 
"Yes. I don't know if he's awake yet, though. He stayed up rather 
late last night and he was a little tipsy when he went to bed." 
Yarblek laughed. "That's Barak, all right. Has he got his wife and 
daughters with him, too?" 
" No," Porenn said. '' They stayed in Val Alorn, making the 
preparations for his oldest daughter's wedding." 
"Is she that old already?" 
"Chereks marry young. They seem to think it's the best way to keep a 
girl out of trouble. Barak and his son came here to get away from all 
the fuss." 


Yarblek laughed again. "I think I'll go wake him up and see if he's 
got anything to drink." He touched his forefinger to the spot between 
his eyes with a pained look, "I'm feeling a little delicate this 
morning, and Barak's a good man to get well with. I'll stop back when 
I'm feeling better. Besides, you've got your mail to read. Oh," he 
said, "I almost forgot. Here are some others." He started rummaging 
around inside his shabby coat. "One from Polgara." He tossed it 
negligently on the table. "One from Belgarion. 
One from Silk, and one from the blond girl with the dimples—the one 
they call Velvet. The snake didn't send anything—you know how snakes 
are. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm really not feeling too good." He 
lurched to the door and went out. 
"That is the most exasperating man in the world," Porenn declared. 
"He does it on purpose." Vella shrugged. "He thinks it's funny." 
"Yarblek said mat you have some messages for me, too," the queen 
said. "I suppose I should read them all at once— get all the shocks 
over with at one time." 
"I've only got one, Porenn," Vella replied, "and it isn't in writing. 
Liselle—the one they call Velvet—asked me to tell you something when 
we were alone." 
"All right," Porenn said, putting down Belgarath's letter. 
"I'm not sure how they found out about this," Vella said, "but it 
seems that the King of Cthol Murgos is not the son of Taur Urgas." 
"What are you saying, Vella?" 
"Urgit isn't even related to that frothing lunatic. It seems that a 
number of years ago, a certain Drasnian businessman paid a visit to 
the palace in Rak Goska. He and Taur Urgas' second wife became 
friendly." She smiled with one eyebrow slightly raised. "Very 
friendly. I've always had that suspicion about Murgo women. Anyway, 
Urgit was the result of that friendship." 
A terrible suspicion began to dawn on Queen Porenn. 
Vella grinned impishly at her. "We all knew that Silk had royal 
connections," she said. "We just didn't know how many royal families 
he was connected to." 
"No!" Porenn gasped. 
Vella laughed. "Oh, yes. Liselle confronted Urgit's mother with it, 
and the lady confessed." The Nadrak girl's face grew serious. "The 
whole point of Liselle's message is that Silk doesn't want that bony 
fellow, Javelin, to find out about it. Liselle felt that she had to 
report it to somebody. That's why she told me to pass it on to you. I 
guess you're supposed to decide whether to tell Javelin or not." 
16 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
17 
"How very kind of her," Porenn said drily. "Now they want me to keep 


secrets from the chief of my own intelligence service."
Vella's eyes twinkled. "Liselle's in a kind of difficult situation, 
Porenn," she said. "I know that I drink too much and I swear a lot.
That makes people think that I'm stupid, but I'm not. Nadrak women
know the world, and I have very good eyes. I didn't actually catch 
them at it, but I'd be willing to wager half the money I'll get when 
Yarblek sells me that Silk and Liselle are keeping company." 
"Vella!" 
"I couldn't prove it, Porenn, but I know what I saw." The Nadrak girl 
sniffed at her leather vest and made a sour face. "If it's not too
much trouble, I would really like to take a bath. I've been in the 
saddle for weeks. Horses are nice enough animals, I suppose, but I 
really don't want to smell like one." 
Porenn's mind was working very fast now; to give herself time to 
think, she rose and approached the wild Nadrak girl. "Have you ever 
worn satin, Vella?" she asked. "A gown, perhaps?" 
"Satin? Me?" Vella laughed coarsely. "Nadraks never wear satin," 
"Then you might be the very first." Queen Porenn reached out her 
small white hands and lifted Vella's wealth of blue-black hair into a 
tumbled mass atop her head. "I'd give my soul for hair like that," 
she murmured. 
"I'll trade you," Vella offered. "Do you know what price I could 
bring if I were blond?" 
"Hush, Vetla," Porenn said absently. "I'm trying to think." She 
twined the girl's hair loosely about her hands, startled at how alive 
it felt. Then she reached out, lifted Vella's chin, and looked into
her huge eyes. Something seemed to reach out and touch the Queen of 
Drasnia, and she suddenly knew the destiny of this half-wild child 
before her. "Oh, my dear," she almost laughed, "what an amazing 
future you have in store for you. You'll touch the sky, Vella, the 
very sky." 
"I really don't know what you're talking about, Porenn." 
"You will." Porenn looked at the perfect face before
her. "Yes," she said, "satin, I think. Lavender would be nice." 
"I prefer red." 
"No, dear," Porenn told her. "Red just wouldn't do. It definitely has 
to be lavender." She reached out and touched the girl's ears. "And I 
think amethyst here and here." 
"What are you up to?"
"It's a game, child. Drasnians are very good at games. And when I'm
done, I'll double your price." Porenn was just a bit smug about it. 
"Bathe first, then let's see what we can do with you." 
Vella shrugged. "As long as I can keep my daggers." 
"We'll work that out." 
"Can you really do something with a lump like me?" Vella asked, 
almost plaintively. 



"Trust me," Porenn said, smiling. "Now go bathe, child. I have
letters to read and decisions to make." 
After the Queen of Drasnia had read the letters, she summoned her 
butler and issued a couple of orders. "I want to speak with the Earl 
of Trellheim," she said, "before he gets any drunker. I also need to
talk with Javelin just as soon as he can get to the palace." 
It was perhaps ten minutes later when Barak appeared in her doorway. 
He was a bit bleary-eyed, and his vast red beard stuck out in all 
directions. Yarblek came with him. 
"Put away your tankards, gentlemen," Porenn said crisply. "There's 
work to be done. Barak, is the Seabird ready to sail?"
"She's always ready," he said in an injured tone. 
"Good. Then round up your sailors. You have a number of places to go. 
I'm calling a meeting of the Alorn Council. Get word to Anheg, 
Fulrach, and Brand's son Kail at Riva. Stop off in Arendia and pick 
up Mandorallen and Lell-dorin." She pursed her lips. "Korodullin's 
not well enough to travel, so bypass Vo Mimbre. He'd get out of his 
deathbed to attend if he knew what was going on. Go to Tol Honeth 
instead and get Varana. I'll send word to Cho-Hag and Het-tar myself. 
Yarblek, you go to Yar Nadrak and get Drosta. Leave Vella here with 
me."
"But—"
"No buts, Yarblek. Do exactly as I say." 
18 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
19 
"I thought you said this was a meeting of the Alorn Council, 
Porenn," Barak objected. "Why are we inviting the Arends and die 
Tolnedrans—and the Nadraks?" 
"WeVe got an emergency on our hands, Barak, and it concerns 
everybody.'' 
They stood staring stupidly at her. 
She clapped her hands together sharply. "Quickly, gentlemen, quickly. 
We don't have any time to waste." 
Urgit, High King of Cthol Murgos, sat on his garish throne in the 
Drojim Palace in Rak Urga. He was dressed in his favorite purple 
doublet and hose, he had one leg negligently cocked over the arm of
the throne, and he was absently tossing his crown back and forth
between his hands as he listened to the droning voice of Agachak, the 
cadaverous-looking Hierarch of Rak Urga. "It's going to have to wait, 
Agachak," he said finally. "I'm getting married next month." 
"This is a command of the Church, Urgit." 
"Wonderful. Give the Church my regards." 
Agachak looked taken a bit aback. "You don't believe in anything now, 
do you, my King?" 



"Not very much, no. Is this sick world we live in ready for atheism
yet?" 
For the first time in his life, Urgit saw doubt on the face of the 
Hierarch. "Atheism's a clean place, Agachak," he said, ' 'a flat, 
gray, empty place where man makes his own destiny, and let the Gods 
go hang. I didn't make them; they didn't make me; and we're quits on 
all of that. I wish them well, though." 
"This is unlike you, Urgit," Agachak said. 
"No, not really. I'm just tired of playing the clown." He stretched 
out his leg and tossed his crown at his foot like a hoop. He caught 
it and kicked it back again. "You don't really understand, do you, 
Agachak?" he said as he caught the crown out of midair. 
The Hierarch of Rak Urga drew himself up. "This is not a request, 
Urgit. I'm not asking you." 
"Good. Because I'm not going." 
"I command you to go." 
"I don't think so." 
"Do you realize to whom you're talking?" 
"Perfectly, old boy. You're the same tiresome old Gro-lim who's been 
boring me to tears ever since I inherited the throne from that fellow
who used to chew on the carpets back in Rak Goska. Listen carefully, 
Agachak. I'll use short words and simple sentences so that I don't
confuse you. I am not going to Mallorea. I've never had any intention 
of going to Mallorea. There's nothing I want to see in Mallorea. 
There's nothing I want to do there. I most definitely do not intend 
to put myself anywhere near Kal Zakath, and he's gone back to Mal 
Zeth. Not only that, they have demons in Mallorea. Have you ever seen
a demon, Agachak?" 
"Once or twice," the Hierarch replied sullenly. 
"And you're still going to Mallorea? Agachak, you're as crazy as Taur 
Urgas was." 
"I can make you king of all of Angarak." 
"I don't want to be king of all of Angarak. I don't even want to be
King of Cthol Murgos. All I want is to be left alone to contemplate 
the horror that's about to descend on me." 
"Your marriage, you mean?" Agachak's face grew sly. "You could evade
that by coming to Mallorea with me." 
"Have I been going too fast for you, Agachak? A wife is bad enough. 
Demons are much worse. Did anybody ever tell you what that thing did 
to Chabat?" Urgit shuddered. 
"I can protect you." 
Urgit laughed scornfully. "You, Agachak? You couldn't even protect 
yourself. Even Polgara had to have help from a God to deal with that 
monster. Do you plan to resurrect Torak to give you a hand? Or maybe 
you could appeal to Aldur. He's the one who helped Polgara. I don't
really think He'd like you, though, /don't even like you, and I've 



known you all my life." 
"You go too far, Urgit." 
"No. Not far enough, Agachak. For centuries—eons, probably—you 
Grolims have held the upper hand in Cthol Murgos, but that was when 
Ctuchik was still alive, and Ctu-chik is dead now. You did know about 
that, didn't you, old 
20 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
21 
boy? He tried his hand against Belgarath, and Belgarath disassembled 
him right down to the floor. I may be the only Murgo alive who's ever 
met Belgarath and lived to talk about it. We're actually on fairly 
good terms. Would you like to meet him? I could probably arrange an 
introduction, if you'd like." 
Agachak visibly shrank back. 
"Much better, Agachak,'* Urgit said smoothly. "I'm delighted at your 
grasp of the realities of the situation. Now, I'm certain that you 
can raise your hand and wiggle your fingers at me, but now I know how 
to recognize that sort of thing. I watched Belgarion rather closely 
while we were trotting across Cthaka last winter. If your hand moves 
even a fraction of an inch, you're going to get about a bushel basket 
full of arrows right in die middle of the back. The archers are 
already in place, and their bows are already drawn. Give it some 
thought, Agachak—while you're leaving." 
"This is not like you, Urgit," Agachak said, his nostrils white with 
fury. 
"I know. Delightful, isn't it? You may go now, Agachak." 
The Hierarch spun on his heel and started toward the door. 
"Oh, by the way, old boy," Urgit added. "I've had news that our dear 
brother Gethel of Thulldom recently died— probably something he ate. 
Thulls eat almost anything that swims, flies, crawls, or spawns on 
rotten meat. It's a pity, actually. Gethel was one of the few people 
in the world I could bully. Anyway, he's been succeeded on the throne 
by his half-wit son, Nathel. IVe met Nathel. He has the mentality of 
an earthworm, but he's a true Angarak king. Why don't you see if he 
wants to go to Mallorea with you? It might take you a while to 
explain to him where Mallorea is, since I mink he believes mat the 
world is flat, but I have every confidence in you, Agachak." Urgit 
flipped his hand at the fuming Hierarch. "Run along now," he said. 
"Go back to your temple and gut a few more Grolims. Maybe you can 
even get the fires started in your sanctum again. If nothing else, 
I'm sure it will calm your nerves." 
Agachak stormed out, slamming the door behind him. 
Urgit doubled over, pounding on the arm of his throne and howling in 
glee. 


"Don't you think you might have gone just a bit too far, my son?" 
Lady Tamazin asked from the shadowy alcove where she had been 
listening. 
"Perhaps so, mother," he agreed, still laughing, "but wasn't it fun?" 
She limped into the light and smiled fondly at him. "Yes, Urgit," she 
agreed, "it was, but don't push Agachak too far. He can be a 
dangerous enemy.'' 
"IVe got lots of enemies, mother," Urgit said, tugging unconsciously 
at his long, pointed nose. "Most of the people in the world hate me, 
but I've learned to live with that. It's not as if I had to run for 
reelection, you know." 
The bleak-faced seneschal, Oskatat, also came out of the shadowed 
alcove. "What are we going to do with you, Urgit?" he said wryly. 
"What did Belgarion teach you, anyway?" 
"He taught me how to be a king, Oskatat. I may not last very long, 
but by the Gods, as long as I'm here, I'm going to be a king. They're 
going to kill me anyway, so I might as well enjoy myself while I 
can." 
His mother sighed, then raised her hands helplessly. "There's no 
reasoning with him, Oskatat," she said. 
"I suppose not, my Lady Tamazin," the gray-haired man agreed. 
"Princess Praia wants to speak with you," Tamazin said to her son. 
"I am at her immediate disposal," Urgit said. "Not only immediate, 
but perpetual, if I understand the terms of the marriage contract." 
"Be nice," Tamazin chided. 
"Yes, mother." 
The Princess Praia of the House of Cthan swept in through a side 
door. She wore a riding habit consisting of a calf-length black 
skirt, a white satin blouse and polished boots. Her heels hit the 
marble floor like little hammers. Her long black hair swayed at her 
back, and her eyes were dangerous. She held a parchment scroll in her 
hands. 
"Will you assist me, my Lord Oskatat?" Lady Tamazin asked, holding 
one hand out to the seneschal. 
22 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"Of course, my Lady," he replied, offering his arm to Urgit's mother 
with tender solicitude. The two of them withdrew. 
"Now what?" Urgit warily asked his bride-to-be. 
"Am I disturbing your Majesty?" Praia asked. She did not bother to 
curtsy. The princess had changed. She was no longer a properly 
submissive Murgo lady. The time she had spent with Queen Ce'Nedra and 
the Margravine Lis-elle had definitely corrupted her, Urgit felt, and 
the unwholesome influence of Polgara the sorceress showed in her 
every move and gesture. She was, however, Urgit concluded, absolutely 
adorable now. Her black eyes flashed, her delicate white skin seemed 


to reflect her mood, and her wealth of black hair seemed almost alive 
as it flowed down her back. Rather surprisingly, Urgit found that he 
was very fond of her. 
"You always disturb me, my beloved," he answered her question, 
spreading his arms extravagantly. 
"Stop that," she snapped. "You sound like your brother." 
"It runs in the family." 
"Did you put this in here?" she demanded, waving the scroll at him
like a club.
"Did I put what in where?" 
"This." She unrolled the scroll. " 'It is agreed that Princess Praia 
of the House of Cthan shall be his majesty's most favored wife,' " 
she read. "Most favored wife" came out from between clenched teeth.
"What's wrong with that?" he asked, a little surprised at the girl's 
vehemence. 
"The implication is that there will be others." 
"It's the custom, Praia. I didn't make the rules."
"You're the king. Make different rules." 
"Me?" He swallowed hard. 
"There will be no other wives, Urgit—or royal concubines." Her 
usually gentle voice seemed to crackle. "You are mine, and I'm not
going to share you with anybody." 
"Do you really feel that way?" he asked, a bit amazed. 
"Yes, I do." She lifted her chin. 
"Nobody's ever lelt that way about me before." 
DAVID EDDINGS 
23 
' 'Get used to it.'' Her voice was flat and had the overtone of
daggers in it. 
"We'll amend the passage," he agreed quickly. "I don't need more than 
one wife anyway.'' 
"Definitely not, my Lord. A very wise decision."
"Naturally. All royal decisions are wise. It says so in the history 
books." 
She tried very hard not to smile, but finally gave up, laughed, and 
hurled herself into his arms. "Oh, Urgit," she said burrowing her 
face into his neck, "I do love you." 
"You do? What an amazing thing." Suddenly an idea came to him, and 
its sheer purity almost blinded him. "What's your feeling about a 
double wedding, love?" he asked her. 
She pulled her face back from where she had been grazing on his neck. 
"I don't quite follow you," she admitted. 
"I'm the king, right?" 
"A little more than you were before you met Belgarion," she admitted. 
He let that pass. "I've got this female relative," he said. "I'm
going to be busy being married." 



"Very busy, my love," she agreed. 
He coughed nervously. "Anyway," he rushed on. "I'm not really going 
to have all that much time to look after this certain female 
relative, am I? Wouldn't it be better if I married her off to some 
deserving fellow who's always held her in the highest regard?" 
"I don't quite follow you, Urgit. I didn't think you had any female 
relatives." 
"Only one, my princess," he grinned. "Only one." 
She stared at him. "Urgit!" she gasped. 
He gave her a rat-faced little grin. "I'm the king," he said grandly. 
"I can do anything I want to do, and my mother's been alone for far 
too long, wouldn't you say? Oskatat's loved her since she was a girl, 
and she's at least fond of him—although I think it might go a little 
farther than that. If I order them to get married, they'd have to do 
it, wouldn't they?" 
"That's absolutely brilliant, Urgit," she marveled. 
"It comes from my Drasnian heritage," he admitted 
24 SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
modestly. "Kheldar himself couldn't have come up with a neater 
scheme." 
"It's perfect," she almost squealed. "This way I won't have a motherin- 
law interfering when I start changing you." 
"Changing?" 
"Just a few little things, love," she said sweetly. "You have a few 
bad habits, and your taste in clothing is terrible. Whatever 
possessed you to start wearing purple?" 
"Anything else?" 
"I'll bring the list with me next time I visit." 
Urgit began to have second thoughts at that point. 
His Imperial Majesty, Kal Zakath of Mallorea, had a busy morning that 
day. Most of the time, he was closeted with Brador, Chief of the 
Bureau of Internal Affairs, in a small, blue-draped office on the 
second floor of the palace. 
"It's definitely subsiding, your Majesty," Brador reported when the 
subject of the plague came up. "There hasn't been a new case in the 
past week, and a surprising number of people are actually recovering. 
The plan of walling off each separate district of the city seems to 
have worked." 
"Good," Zakath said. He turned to another matter. "Is there any 
further word out of Karanda?" 
Brador shuffled through the papers he was holding. "Mengha hasn't 
been seen for several weeks now, your Majesty." The Chief of the 
Bureau of Internal Affairs smiled briefly. "That particular plague 
also seems to be subsiding. The demons appear to have left, and the 
fanatics are losing heart." He tapped one of the papers against his 
pursed lips. "This is only an educated guess, your Majesty, since I 


can't get any agents into the region, but the turmoil appears to have 
shifted to the east coast. Shortly after Mengha disappeared, large 
bodies of Karandese irregular troops, along with Urvon's Temple 
Guardsmen and his Chandim, crossed the Mountains of Zamad, and all 
communications out of Voresebo and Rengel have broken down." 
"Urvon?" Zakath asked. 
"It appears so, your Majesty. I'd say that the Disciple is moving 
into position for a final confrontation with Zandra- 
DAVID EDDINGS 
25 
mas. One is tempted to suggest that we just let them fight it out. I 
don't think that the world would miss either of them very much." 
A faint, icy smile touched Zakath's lips. "You're right, Brador," he 
said. "It is tempting, but I don't think we should encourage that 
sort of thing—just as a matter of policy. Those principalities are a 
part of the empire and they're entitled to imperial protection. It 
might start some ugly rumors if we were to just stand idly by and let 
Urvon and Zandramas rip up the countryside. If anybody brings 
military force to bear in Mallorea, it's going to be me." He leafed 
through the papers on the table in front of him, picked one up, and 
frowned at it. "I suppose we'd better deal with this," he said. 
"Where have you got Baron Vasca?" 
"He's in a cell with a splendid view," Brador replied. "He can look 
out at the executioner's block. I'm sure it's been most educational." 
Zakath remembered something then. "Demote him," he said. 
"That's a novel word for the procedure," Brador murmured. 
"That's not exactly what I meant," Zakath said with another chill 
smile. "Persuade him to tell us where he hid all the money he 
extorted from the people he dealt with. We'll transfer the funds to 
the imperial treasury." He turned to look at the large map on the 
wall of his study. "Southern Ebal, I think." 
"Your Majesty?" Brador looked puzzled. 
"Assign him to the post of Minister of Trade in southern Ebal." 
"There isn't any trade in southern Ebal, your Majesty. There aren't 
any seaports, and the only thing they raise in the Temba marshes is 
mosquitoes." 
"Vasca's inventive. I'm sure he'll come up with something." 
"Then you don't want him—" Brador made a suggestive gesture across 
his throat with one hand. 
"No," Zakath said. "I'm going to try something Belga-rion suggested. 
I may need Vasca again someday and I don't want to have to dig him up 
in pieces." A faintly pained 
26 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
27 


look crossed the Emperor's face. "Has there been any word about
him?" he asked. 
"Vasca? I just—"
"No. Belgarion." 
"They were seen shortly after they left Mal Zeth, your Majesty. They 
were traveling with Prince Kheldar's Nadrak partner, Yarblek. Not 
long after that, Yarblek sailed for Gar og Nadrak." 
"It was all a ruse, then," Zakath sighed. "All Belgarion really
wanted was to get back to his own country. That wild story of theirs 
was made up out of whole cloth." Zakath passed a weary hand before
his eyes. "I really liked that young man, Brador," he said sadly. "I 
should have known better." 
"Belgarion didn't go back to the West, your Majesty," Brador informed 
him, "at least not with Yarblek. We always check that fellow's ships 
rather closely. So far as we're able to determine, Belgarion has not
left Mallorea." 
Zakath leaned back with a genuine smile on his face. "I'm not sure 
why, but that makes me feel better. The thought that he'd betrayed me
was quite painful for some reason. Any idea about where he's gone?"
"There was some turmoil in Katakor, your Majesty—up around Ashaba. It 
was the sort of thing one might associate with Belgarion—strange
lights in the sky, explosions, that sort of thing." 
Zakath laughed out loud, a delighted kind of laugh. "He can be a 
little ostentatious when he's irritated, can't he? He blew the whole 
wall out of my bedchamber in Rak Hagga one time." 
"Oh?" 
"He was trying to make a point." 
There was a respectful rap on the door. 
"Come," Zakath replied shortly. 
"General Atesca has arrived, your Majesty," one of the red-garbed 
guards at the door reported.
"Good. Send him in." 
The broken-nosed general entered and saluted smartly. "Your 
Majesty," he said. His red uniform was travel-stained. 
"You made good time, Atesca," Zakath said. "It's good to see you
again." 
"Thank you, your Majesty. We had a good following wind, and the sea 
was calm."
"How many men did you bring with you?" 
"About fifty thousand." 
"How many men do we have now?" Zakath asked Bra-dor. 
"Something in excess of a million, your Majesty." 
"That's a solid number. Let's stage up the troops and get ready to
move." He rose and went to the window. The leaves had begun to turn, 
filling die garden below with bright reds and yellows. "I want to
quiet things down on the east coast," he said, "and it's turning into



autumn now, so I think we want to move the troops before the weather 
starts to deteriorate. We'll go on down to Maga Renn and send out 
scouting parties from there. If the circumstances are right, we'll 
march. If not, we can wait at Maga Renn for more troops to come back 
from Cthol Murgos." 
"I'll get started on that immediately, your Majesty." Brador bowed 
and quietly left the room. 
"Sit down, Atesca," the Emperor said. "What's happening in Cthol 
Murgos?" 
"We're going to try to hold the cities we've already taken, your 
Majesty," Atesca reported, drawing up a chair. "We've gathered the 
bulk of our forces near Rak Cthan. They're waiting there for 
transport to bring them back to Mallorea." 
"Any chance that Urgit might try a counterattack?" 
"I wouldn't think so, your Majesty. I don't believe he'll gamble his 
army in open country. Of course, you never know what a Murgo might 
do." 
"That's true," Zakath agreed. He kept his knowledge that Urgit was 
not actually a Murgo to himself. He leaned back. "You captured 
Belgarion for me once, Atesca," he said. 
"Yes, your Majesty." 
"I'm afraid you're going to have to do it again. He managed to get 
away. Careless of me, I suppose, but I had a lot on my mind at the 
time." 
"We'll just have to pick him up again then, won't we, your Majesty?" 
28 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
The Alorn Council met at Boktor that year. Somewhat 
uncharacteristically, Queen Porenn took charge. The tiny blond queen 
of Drasnia, dressed in her usual black, walked quietly to the head of 
the table in the red-draped council chamber in the palace and took 
the chair normally reserved for the Rivan King. The others stared at 
her in astonishment. 
"Gentlemen," she began crisply, "I recognize the fact that this flies 
in the face of tradition, but our time is limited. Certain 
information has come to me that I think you should be made aware of. 
We have decisions to make and very little time in which to make 
them." 
Emperor Varana leaned back in his chair with an amused twinkle in his 
eyes. "We will now pause while the Alorn kings go into collective 
apoplexy," he said. 
King Anheg scowled at the curly-haired emperor for a moment, then 
laughed. "No, Varana," he said wryly. "We all got that out of our 
systems when Rhodar persuaded us to follow Ce'Nedra into Mishrak ac 
Thull. It's Porenn's house; let her run things." 
"Why, thank you, Anheg." The Queen of Drasnia actually sounded a 


little surprised. She paused, gathering her thoughts. "As I'm sure 
you've noticed, our gathering this year includes kings who would not 
normally attend. The matter before us, however, concerns us all. I've 
recently received communications from Belgarath, Belgarion, and the 
others." 
There was an excited stir in the room. Porenn held up one hand. 
"They're in Mallorea, close on the trail of the abductor of 
Belgarion's son." 
"That young man can move faster than the wind sometimes," King 
Fulrach of Sendaria observed. The years had given Fulrach a tendency 
toward portliness, and his brown beard was now streaked with silver. 
"How did they get to Mallorea?" King Cho-Hag asked in his quiet 
voice. 
"It seems that they were captured by Kal Zakath," Porenn replied. 
"Garion and Zakath became friends, and Zakath took them with him when 
he returned to Mal Zeth." 
"Zakath actually became friends with somebody?" King 
DAVID EDDINGS 
29 
Drosta of Gar og Nadrak demanded incredulously in his shrill voice. 
"Impossible!" 
"Garion has a way about him, sometimes," Hettar murmured. 
"The friendship, however, may have run its course," Porenn continued. 
"Late one night, Garion and his friends slipped out of Mal Zeth 
without saying good-bye to the Emperor." 
"With the whole imperial army on their trail, I'd imagine," Varana 
added. 
"No," Porenn disagreed. "Zakath can't leave Mal Zeth just now. Tell 
them, Yarblek." 
Silk's rangy partner rose to his feet. "They've got plague in Mal 
Zeth," he said. "Zakath has sealed up the city. No one can go in or 
out." 
"Prithee," Mandorallen asked, "how then was it possible for our 
friends to make good their escape?" 
"I'd picked up an itinerant comedian," Yarblek said sourly. "I didn't 
think much of him, but he amused Vella. She's fond of bawdy stories." 
"Be careful, Yarblek," the Nadrak dancer warned. "You still have your 
health, but I can fix that for you." She put one hand suggestively on 
a dagger hilt. Vella wore a stunning lavender gown. There were a few 
concessions to Nadrak customs in her dress, however. She still wore 
polished leather boots—with daggers in their tops—and the customary 
wide leather belt about her waist was still adorned with similar 
knives. The men in the room, however, had all been surreptitiously 
eyeing her since she had entered. No matter how she was dressed, 
Vella still had the power to attract every eye. 
"Anyway," Yarblek hurried on, "the fellow knew of a tunnel that runs 


from the palace to an abandoned quarry outside the city. It got us 
all out of Mal Zeth with no one the wiser." 
"Zakath won't like that," Drosta said. "He hates to let people go 
once he's caught them." 
"There's been an uprising of some sort in the Seven Kingdoms of 
Karanda in northern Mallorea," Porenn went on. "I understand that
there are demons involved." 
30 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"Demons?" Varana said skeptically. "Oh, come now, Porenn."
"That's what Belgarath reports."
"Belgarath has a warped sense of humor, sometimes," Varana scoffed. 
"He was probably just joking. There's no such thing as a demon." 
"You're wrong, Varana," King Drosta said with uncharacteristic
soberness. "I saw one once—up in Morindland when I was a boy.'' 
"What did it look like?" Varana did not sound convinced. 
Drosta shuddered. "You really don't want to know." 
"At any rate," Porenn said, "Zakath has ordered the bulk of his army
back from Cthol Murgos to put down this uprising. It won't be very
long until he floods the entirety of K a ran da with troops, and
that's the area where our friends are. That's why I've called this 
meeting. What are we going to do about it?" 
Lelldorin of Wildantor came to his feet. "We'll need fast horses," he
said to Hettar. 
"Why?" Hettar asked. 
"To get to their aid, of course." The young Asturian's eyes were 
flashing with excitement. 
"Uh—Lelldorin," Barak said gently, "the Sea of the East is between
here and Mallorea." 
"Oh," Lelldorin said, looking slightly abashed. "I didn't know that. 
We'll need a boat, too, won't we?"
Barak and Hettar exchanged a long look. "Ship," Barak corrected 
absently. 
"What?" 
"Never mind, Lelldorin," Barak sighed. 
"We can't," King Anheg said flatly. "Even if we could get through, 
we'd destroy Garion's chances of winning in the fight with the Child 
of Dark. That's what the Seeress told us at Rheon, remember?" 
"But this is different," Lelldorin protested, tears standing in his 
eyes. 
"No," Anheg said. "It's not. This is exactly what we were warned
against. We can't go near them until this is over.'' 
"But—"
DAVID EDDINGS 
31 
"Lelldorin," Anheg said. "I want to go as much as you do, but we 



can't. Would Garion thank us if we were responsible for the loss of 
his son?" 
Mandorallen rose to his feet and began to pace up and down, his armor 
clinking. "Methinks thy reasoning is aright, your Majesty," he said 
to Anheg. "We may not join with our friends, lest our presence 
imperil their quest, and we would all give up our lives to prevent 
that. We may, however, journey straightaway to Mallorea and, without 
going near them, place ourselves between them and the hordes of Kal 
Zakath. We can thereby bring the unfriendly advance of the Malloreans 
to a precipitous halt and thus allow Gar-ion to escape." 
Barak stared at the great knight, whose face shone with unthinking 
zeal. Then he groaned and buried his face in his hands. 
"There, there," Hettar murmured, patting the big man sympathetically 
on the shoulder. 
King Fulrach nibbed at his beard. "Why does it seem that weVe done 
this before?" he asked. "It's the same as last time. We have to 
create a diversion to help our friends get through. Any ideas?" 
"Invade Mallorea," Drosta said eagerly. 
"Sack Zakath's coastline," Anheg said just as eagerly. 
Porenn sighed. 
"We could invade Cthol Murgos," Cho-Hag suggested thoughtfully. 
"Yes!" Hettar agreed fiercely. 
Cho-Hag held up his hand. "Only as a ruse, my son," he said. "Zakath 
has committed forces to the conquest of Cthol Murgos. If the armies 
of the West moved into that region, he'd almost be obliged to try to 
counter us, wouldn't he?" 
Varana slid lower in his chair. "It's got possibilities," he 
admitted, "but it's already autumn, and the mountains of Cthol Murgos 
are brutal in the winter. It's a bad time to move troops around down 
there. An army can't move very fast on frozen feet. I think we might 
be able to accomplish the same thing by diplomacy—without risking a 
single toe.'' 
"Trust a Tolnedran to be devious," Anheg growled. 
"Do you like freezing, Anheg?" Varana asked. 
32 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
Anheg shrugged. "It's something to do in the wintertime," he said. 
Varana rolled his eyes ceilingward. "Alorns," he said. 
"All right," Anheg said by way of apology. "I was only joking. What's 
this brilliantly devious plan of yours?" 
Varana looked across the room at Javelin. "How good is the Mallorean 
intelligence service, Margrave Khendon?" he asked bluntly. 
Javelin rose to his feet, straightening his pearl-gray doublet. "By 
himself, Brador is very good, your Imperial Majesty," he replied. 
"His people are sometimes awkward and obvious, but he has a lot of 
them. He has unlimited money to work with." He cast a slightly 


reproachful glance at Queen Porenn. 
"Be nice, Khendon," she murmured. "I'm on a tight budget." 
"Yes, ma'am." He bowed with a faint smile, then straightened and 
spoke in a crisp, businesslike manner. "Mallorean intelligence is 
crude by our standards, but Bra-dor has the resources to put as many 
agents in the field as he needs. Neither Drasnian nor Tolnedran 
intelligence has that luxury. Brador sometimes loses a hundred people 
in the process, but he can usually get the information." He sniffed 
disdainfully. "I prefer a neater type of operation, personally." 
"Then this Brador has operatives in Rak Urga?" Varana pressed. 
"Almost certainly," Javelin replied. "I have four in the Drojim 
Palace at this time myself—and your Majesty's service has two that I 
know of.'' 
"I didn't know that," Varana said with an innocent look. 
"Really?" 
Varana laughed. "AH right," he went on, "what would Zakath do if word 
reached Mat Zeth that the Kingdoms of the West were about to conclude 
a military alliance with the King of Murgodom?" 
Javelin began to pace up and down. "It's very hard to know exactly 
what Zakath will do in any given situation," he mused. "A lot depends 
on just how serious his domestic problems are, but an alliance 
between the Murgos and the West would pose a major threat to 
Mallorea. He'd almost 
DAVID EDDINGS 
33 
have to come back immediately and make an all-out effort to crush the 
Murgos before our troops could reinforce them." 
"Ally ourselves with the Murgos?" Hettar exclaimed. "Never!" 
"Nobody's suggesting a real alliance, my Lord Hettar," Kail, the son 
of the Rivan Warder, told him, "All we want to do is distract Zakath 
for long enough to give Belgarion the time to slip past him. The 
negotiations can drag on and then fall apart later on." 
"Oh," Hettar said, looking a bit abashed, "that's different, then—I 
suppose." 
"All right," Varana went on crisply. "Perhaps we can persuade Zakath 
that we're about to conclude an alliance with Urgit—if we do it 
right. Javelin, have your people kill a few Mallorean agents in the 
Drojim Palace—not all of them, mind you—just enough to convince Mal 
Zeth that this is a serious diplomatic effort." 
"I understand perfectly, your Majesty." Javelin smiled. "I have just 
the man—a recently recruited Nyissan assassin named Issus." 
"Good. A possible alliance will serve the same purpose as a real one. 
We can distract Zakath without the loss of a single man—unless we 
count this Issus fellow.'' 
"Don't worry about Issus, your Majesty," Javelin assured him. "He's a 
survivor." 


"I think we're missing something," Anheg growled. "I wish Rhodar were 
here." 
"Yes," Porenn agreed in a voice near to tears.
"Sorry, Porenn," Anheg said, engulfing her tiny hand in his huge one, 
"but you know what I mean." 
"I have a diplomat in Rak Urga," Varana continued. "He can make the 
overtures to King Urgit. Do we know anything useful about the King of 
the Murgos?"
"Yes," Porenn said firmly. "He'll be amenable to the suggestion." 
"How do you know, your Majesty?" 
Porenn hesitated. "I'd rather not say," she said with a quick glance 
at Javelin. "Just take my word for it." 
"Of course," Varana agreed. 
Vella rose and walked to the window, her satin gown fill- 
34 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
ing the room with its music. "You people of the West always want to
complicate things," she said critically. "Zakath's your problem. Send 
somebody to Mal Zeth with a sharp knife.'* 
"You should have been a man, Vella." Anheg laughed. 
She turned and looked at him with smoldering eyes. "Do you really 
think so?" she asked. 
"Well," he hesitated, "maybe not."
She leaned disconsolately against the window casing. "I wish I had my
juggler here to entertain me," she said. "Politics always give me a 
headache." She sighed. "I wonder whatever happened to him." 
Porenn smiled, watching the girl intently and remembering the sudden 
insight she had when the Nadrak girl first arrived in Boktor. "Would 
you be terribly disappointed to find out that your juggler was not 
who he seemed to be?" she asked. "Belgarath mentioned him in his 
letter." 
Vella looked at her sharply. 
"Belgarath would have known him, of course," Porenn went on. "It was 
Beldin,"
Vella's eyes went wide. "The hunchbacked sorcerer?" she exclaimed. 
"The one who can fly?" 
Porenn nodded.
Vella said a number of things that no genteel lady would have said. 
Even King Anheg turned slightly pale at her choice of language. Then
she drew a dagger and advanced on Yarblek, her bream hissing between 
her teeth. Mandor-allen, clad all in steel, stepped in front of her, 
and Hettar and Barak seized her from behind and wrested the knife 
from her grasp.
"You idiot!" she shrieked at the cringing Yarblek. "You absolute
idiot! You could have sold me to him!" Then she collapsed weeping 
against Barak's fur-clad chest, even as Hettar prudently relieved her 



of her other three daggers. 
Zandramas, the Child of Dark, stood gazing across a desolate valley 
where shattered villages smoked and smoldered under a lead-gray sky. 
The eyes of the Child of Dark were hooded, and she looked unseeing at 
the devastation spread before her. A lusty wail came from behind her, 
and she set her teeth together. "Feed him," she said shortly. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
35 
"As you command, mistress," the man with white eyes said quickly in a 
mollifying tone. 
"Don't patronize me, Naradas," she snapped. "Just shut the brat up. 
I'm trying to think." 
It had been a long time. Zandramas had worked everything out so very 
carefully. Now she had come half around the world, and, despite her 
best efforts, the Godslayer with his dreadful sword was but a few 
days behind her. 
The sword. The flaming sword. It filled her sleep with nightmares—and 
the burning face of the Child of Light terrified her even more. "How 
does he stay so close behind?" she exploded. "Will nothing slow him?" 
She thrust her hands out in front of her and turned them pa 1ms-up. A 
myriad of tiny points of light seemed to swirl beneath the skin of 
her hands—swirling, glittering like a constellation of minuscule 
stars spinning in her very flesh. How long would it be until those 
constellations invaded her entire body and she ceased even to be 
human? How long until the dreadful spirit of the Child of Dark 
possessed her utterly? The child wailed again. 
"I told you to shut him up!" she half shouted. 
"At once, mistress," Naradas said. 
The Child of Dark went back to the contemplation of the starry 
universe enclosed in her flesh. 
Eriond and Horse rode out at the first light before the others had 
awakened, cantering across a mountain meadow in the silvery dawnlight. 
It was good to ride alone, to feel the surge and flow of 
Horse's muscles under him and the wind against his face without the 
distraction of talk. 
He reined in atop a knoll to watch the sun rise, and that was good, 
too. He looked out over the sun-touched mountains of Zamad, drinking 
in the beauty and solitude, then gazed at the fair sight of the 
bright green fields and forests. Life was good here. The world was 
filled with loveliness and with people he loved. 
How could Aldur have forced Himself to leave all this? Aldur had been 
the God who must have loved this world above all things, since He had 
refused to take a people to worship Him, but had chosen to spend His 
time alone to 
36 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 


study this fair world. And now He could only visit occasionally in 
spiritual form. 
But Aldur had accepted the sacrifice. Eriond sighed, feeling that 
perhaps no sacrifice could be truly unbearable if it were made out of 
love. Eriond took comfort in that belief. 
Then he sighed again and slowly rode back toward the little lake and 
the cluster of tents where the others slept. 
CHAPTER TWO 
They rose late that morning. The turmoil of the past several weeks 
seemed finally to have caught up with Garion, and, even though he 
could tell by the light streaming in through the front of the tent 
that the sun was already high, he was reluctant to move. He could 
hear the clinking of Polgara's cooking utensils and the murmur of 
voices. He knew that he was going to have to get up soon anyway. He 
considered trying to doze oif to catch a last few moments of sleep, 
but he decided against it. He moved carefully to avoid waking 
Ce'Nedra as he slid out from under their blankets. He leaned over and 
gently kissed her hair, then he pulled on his rust-colored tunic, 
picked up his boots and sword, and ducked out of the tent. 
Polgara, in her gray traveling dress, was by her cook-fire. As usual, 
she hummed softly as she worked. Silk and Bel-37 
38 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
garath were talking quietly nearby. Silk had, for some reason, 
changed clothes and he now wore the soft, pearl-gray doublet which 
marked him as a prosperous businessman. Belgarath, of course, still 
wore his rust-colored tunic, patched hose, and mismatched boots. 
Durnik and Toth were fishing, lacing the blue surface of the little 
mountain lake with their lines, and Eriond was brushing the gleaming 
chestnut coat of his stallion. The rest of their friends had 
apparently not arisen yet. 
"We thought you were going to sleep all day," Belgarath said as 
Garion sat on a log to pull on his boots. 
"I gave it some thought," Garion admitted. He stood up and looked 
across the sparkling lake. There was a grove of aspens on the far 
side, their trunks the color of new snow. The leaves had begun to 
turn and they shimmered in the morning sun like beaten gold. The air 
was cool and slightly damp. Suddenly he wished that they could stay 
here for a few days. He sighed and walked over to join his 
grandfather and Silk near the fire. "Why the fancy clothes?" he asked 
the rat-faced little Drasnian. 
Silk shrugged. "We're moving into an area where I'm fairly well 
known," he replied. "We might be able to take advantage of that—as 
long as people recognize me. Are you absolutely sure the trail goes 
toward the southeast?" 
Garion nodded. "There was a little confusion right at first, but I 


got it sorted out." 
"Confusion?" Belgarath asked. 
"The Sardion was here, too—a long time ago. For a few moments, the 
Orb seemed to want to follow both trails at the same time. I had to
speak with it rather firmly about that." Garion draped the sword belt
over his shoulder and buckled it. Then he shifted the scabbard
slightly until it was more comfortable. The Orb on the pommel of the 
sword was glowing a sullen red color. 
"Why's it doing that?" Silk asked curiously. 
"Because of the Sardion," Garion told him. He looked over his 
shoulder at the glowing stone. "Stop that," he said. 
"Don't hurt its feelings," Silk warned. "We could be in a great deal 
of trouble if it decides to start sulking." 
DAVID EDDINGS 
39 
"What lies off to the southeast?" Belgarath asked the little man.
"Voresebo," Silk replied. "There isn't much there except some caravan 
tracks and a few mines up in the mountains. There's a seaport at 
Pannor. I land there sometimes on my way back from Melcena." 
"Are the people there Karands?"
Silk nodded. "But they're even cruder than the ones back in the 
central kingdoms—if that's possible." 
The blue-banded hawk came spiraling out of a bright morning sky, 
flared, and shimmered into the form of Beldin as soon as the talons 
touched the ground. The hunchbacked little sorcerer was dressed in 
his usual rags tied on with bits of thong, and twigs and straw clung 
to his hair and beard. He shivered. "I hate to fly when it's cold," 
he grumbled. "It makes my wings ache." 
"It's not really that cold," Silk said. 
"Try it a couple thousand feet up." Beldin pointed toward the sky, 
then turned, and spat out a couple of soggy gray feathers. 
"Grazing again, uncle?" Polgara asked from her cook-fire.
"Just a bite of breakfast, Pol," he replied. "There was a pigeon that
got up too early this morning." 
"You didn't have to do that, you know." She tapped meaningfully on 
the side of her bubbling pot with a long-handled wooden spoon. 
Beldin shrugged. "The world isn't going to miss one pigeon."
Garion shuddered. "How can you stand to eat them raw like that?" 
"You get used to it. I've never had much luck trying to build a cook- 
fire with my talons." He looked at Belgarath. "There's some trouble 
up ahead," he said, "a lot of smoke and groups of armed men wandering 
around." 
"Could you see who they were?"
"I didn't get that close. There's usually a bored archer or two in
any crowd like that, and I'd prefer not to have my tail feathers 
parted with an arrow just because some idiot wants to show off his 



skill." 
"Has that ever happened?" Silk asked curiously. 
40 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
41 
"Once—a long time ago. My hip still aches in cold weather." 
"Did you do something about it?" 
"I had a chat with the archer. I asked him not to do it any more. He 
was breaking his bow across his knee when I left." He turned back to 
Belgarath. "Are we sure the trail goes on down to that plain?" 
"The Orb is." 
"Then we'll have to chance it." The little man looked around. "I 
thought you'd have struck the tents by now." 
"I decided it might not hurt to let everybody get some sleep. We've 
been traveling hard and we're going to have to do it some more, I 
think." 
"You always want to pick these idyllic spots for your rest stops, 
Belgarath," Beldin observed. "I think you're secretly a romantic." 
Belgarath shrugged. "Nobody's perfect." 
"Garion," Polgara called. 
"Yes, Aunt Pol?" 
"Why don't you wake the others? Breakfast's almost ready."
"Right away, Aunt Pol." 
After breakfast, they broke camp and started out about midmorning 
with Beldin flying on ahead to scout out possible trouble. It was 
pleasantly warm now, and there was the pungent smell of evergreens in 
the air. Ce'Nedra was strangely quiet as she rode along beside Garion 
with her dark gray cloak pulled tightly around her. 
"What's the matter, dear?" he asked her. 
"She didn't have Geran with her," the little queen murmured sadly.
"Zandramas. you mean? No, she didn't, did she?"
"Was she really there, Garion?" 
"In a way, but in a way she wasn't. It was sort of the way Cyradis 
was here and not here at the same time." 
"I don't understand." 
"It was more man a projection, but less than actually being there. We
talked it over last night, and Beldin explained it. I didn't
understand very much of what he said. Beldin's explanations get a 
little obscure sometimes." 
"He's very wise, isn't he?" 
Garion nodded. "But he's not a very good teacher. He gets impatient
with people who can't keep up with him. Anyway, this business of
being somewhere between a projection and the real thing makes 
Zandramas very dangerous. We can't hurt her, but she can hurt us. She 
came very close to killing you yesterday, you know—until Poledra 



stopped her. She's very much afraid of Poledra."
"That's the first time I've ever seen your grandmother." 
"No, actually it's not. She was there at Aunt Pol's wedding,
remember? And she helped us in Ulgoland when we had to fight the 
Eldrak."
"But one time she was an owl, and the other time she was a wolf." 
"In Poledra's case, I don't think that really matters." 
Ce'Nedra suddenly laughed. 
"What's so funny?" 
"When this is all over and we're back home with our baby, why don't 
you change into a wolf for a while?" she suggested.
"Why?" 
"It might be nice having a big gray wolf lying before the fire. And 
then on cold nights, I could burrow my feet into your fur to keep
them warm."
He gave her a long steady look. 
"I'd scratch your ears for you, Garion," she offered by way of 
inducement, "and get you nice bones from die kitchen to chew on." 
"Never mind," he said flatly. 
"But my feet get cold." 
"I've noticed."
Just ahead of them as they rode up through a shady mountain pass, 
Silk and Sadi were engaged in a heated discussion. "Absolutely not," 
Silk said vehemently. 
"I really think you're being unreasonable about this, Kheldar," Sadi
protested. The eunuch had discarded his iridescent silk robe and now 
wore western-style tunic and hose and stout boots. "You have the 
distribution system already in place, and I have access to unlimited 
supplies. We could make millions." 
"Forget it, Sadi. I won't deal in drugs." 
"You deal in everything else, Kheldar. There's a market 
42 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
out there just waiting to be tapped. Why let scruples stand in the 
way of business?" 
"You're Nyissan, Sadi. Drugs are a part of your culture, so you 
wouldn't understand." 
"Lady Polgara uses drugs when she treats the sick," Sadi pointed out
defensively. 
"That's different." 
"I don't see how." 
"I could never explain it to you." 
Sadi sighed. "I'm very disappointed in you, Kheldar. You're a spy, an
assassin, and a thief. You cheat at dice, you counterfeit money, and 
you're unscrupulous with married women. You swindle your customers 
outrageously and you soak up ale like a sponge. You're the most 



corrupt man I've ever known, but you refuse to transport a few 
harmless little compounds that would make your customers very happy." 
"A man has to draw the line somewhere," Silk replied loftily. 
Velvet shifted in her saddle to look back at them. "That was one of 
the more fascinating conversations I've ever heard, gentlemen," she 
complimented them. "The implications in the field of comparative 
morality are absolutely staggering." She gave them a sunny smile with 
her dimples flashing into view. 
"Uh—Margravine Liselle," Sadi said. "Do you happen to have Zith 
again?" 
"Why, yes, Sadi, as a matter of fact, I do." The honey-blond girl 
held up one hand to head off his objections. "But I didn't steal her 
this time. She crawled into my tent in the middle of the night and 
crept into her favorite hiding place all on her own. The poor dear 
was actually shivering." 
Silk turned slightly pale. 
"Would you like to have her back?" Velvet asked the shaved-headed 
eunuch. 
"No," Sadi sighed, rubbing his hand over his scalp, "I suppose not. 
As long as she's happy where she is, we might as well leave her 
there." 
"She's very happy. In fact, she's purring." Velvet frowned slightly. 
"I think you should watch her diet just a bit, Sadi," she said 
critically. "Her little tummy seems to 
DAVID EDDINGS 
43 
be getting bigger." She smiled again. "We wouldn't want a fat snake 
on our hands, would we?" 
"Well, excuse me!" Sadi said, sounding very offended. 
There was a large snag at the top of the pass, and the blue-banded 
hawk perched on a dead limb, busily preening his feathers with his 
hooked beak. As they approached, he swooped down, and Beldin stood in 
the trail in front of them, muttering curses. 
"Something wrong, uncle?" Polgara asked him. 
"I got caught in a crosswind," he growled. "It scrambled my feathers 
a bit. You know how that goes." 
"Oh, goodness yes. It happens to me all the time. Night breezes are 
so unpredictable." 
"Your feathers are too soft." 
"I didn't design the owl, uncle, so don't blame me about the 
feathers." 
"There's a crossroads tavern just up ahead," Beldin said to 
Belgarath. "Did you want to stop and see if we can find out what's 
going on down there on the plain?" 
"That might not be a bad idea," Belgarath agreed. "Let's not ride 
into trouble if we don't have to." 


"I'll wait for you inside then," Beldin said and soared away again. 
Polgara sighed. "Why must it always be a tavern?" she complained. 
"Because people whoVe been drinking like to talk, Pol," Belgarath 
explained in a reasonable tone. "You can gather more information in 
five minutes in a tavern than you can in an hour in a tearoom." 
"I knew you'd be able to find a reason for it." 
"Naturally." 
They crossed over the top of the wooded pass and on down the shadesplotched 
trail to the tavern. It was a low building made of logs 
crudely chinked with mud. The roof was low, and its shingles had 
curled with the weather and the passage of years. Buff-colored 
chickens scratched at the dirt in the dooryard, and a large speckled 
sow lay in a mud puddle, nursing a litter of happily grunting 
piglets. There were a few spavined nags tied to a hitch rail in front 
of the tavern, and a Karand dressed in mom-eaten furs snored on the 
front stoop. 
44 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
Polgara reined in her horse as they approached the tavern and the 
first whiff of its reeking interior reached her nostrils. "I think, 
ladies, that we might prefer to wait over there in the shade." 
"There is a certain fragrance coming out that door, isn't there?" 
Velvet agreed. 
"You, too, Eriond," Polgara said firmly. "There's no need for you to 
start picking up bad habits this early in life." She rode over toward 
a grove of tall fir trees some distance away from the tavern and 
dismounted in the shade. Dumik and Toth exchanged a quick glance, 
then joined her there with Velvet, Ce'Nedra, and Eriond. 
Sadi started to dismount in front of the tavern. Then he sniffed once 
and gagged slightly. "This is not my sort of place, gentlemen," he 
said. "I think I'll wait outside as well. Besides, it's Zith's 
feeding time." 
"Suit yourself," Belgarath shrugged, dismounting and leading the way 
toward the building. They stepped over the snoring Karand on the 
stoop and went on inside. "Split up and spread out," the old man 
muttered. "Circulate and talk to as many as you can." He looked at 
Silk. "We're not here to make a career out of this," he cautioned. 
"Trust me," Silk said, moving away. 
Garion stood just inside the door, blinking to let his eyes adjust to 
the dimness. The tavern showed no signs of ever having been cleaned. 
The floor was covered with moldy straw that reeked of spilled beer, 
and scraps of rotting food lay in heaps in the corners. A crudely 
built fireplace smoked at the far end, adding its fumes to the 
generally unpleasant odor of the place. The tables consisted of 
rough-hewn planks laid on trellises, and the benches were half logs 
with sticks drilled into their undersides for legs. Garion saw Beldin 


talking with several Karands over in one corner and he started over 
to join him. 
As he passed one of the tables, his foot came down on something soft. 
There was a protesting squeal and a sudden scramble of hoofed feet. 
"Don't step on my pig," the bleary-eyed old Karand sitting at the 
table said belligerently. "I don't step on your pig, do I?" He 
pronounced it "peg," and Garion had a little trouble sorting out his 
dialect. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
45 
"Watch yer fate," the Karand said ominously. 
"Fate?" Garion shrank back from that word just a bit. 
"Fate. Them thangs you got on the end of yer laigs." 
"Oh. Feet." 
"That's what I just said—fate." 
"Sorry," Garion apologized. "I didn't quite understand." 
"That's the trouble with you outlanders. You can't even understand 
the language when she's spoke to you plain as day." 
"Why don't we have a tankard of ale?" Garion suggested. "I'll 
apologize to your pig just as soon as he conies back." 
The Karand squinted at him suspiciously. The old man was bearded and 
he wore clothing made of poorly tanned furs. He wore a hat made from 
the whole skin of a badger— with the legs and tail still attached. He 
was very dirty, and Garion could clearly see the fleas peeking out of 
his beard. 
"I'm buying," Garion offered, sitting down across the table from the 
pig's owner. 
The old Karand's face brightened noticeably. 
They had a couple of tankards of ale together. Garion noticed that 
the stuff had a raw, green flavor to it, as if it had been dipped 
from the vat a week or so too soon. His host, however, smacked his 
lips and rolled his eyes as if this were the finest brew in the 
world. Something cold and wet touched Garion *s hand, and he jerked 
it away. He looked down into a pair of earnest blue eyes fenced in by 
bristly white eyelashes. The pig had recently been to the wallow and 
he carried a powerful odor with him. 
The old Karand chortled. "That's just my peg," he said. "He's a goodnatured 
young peg, and he don't hold no grudges." The fur-clad fellow 
blinked owlishly. "He's a orphan, y'know." 
"Oh?" 
"His ma made real good bacon, though." The old man snuffled and wiped 
his nose on the back of his hand. "Sometimes I miss her real bad," he 
admitted. He squinted at Garion. "Say, that's a mighty big kniie you 
got there." 
"Yes," Garion agreed. He absently scratched the half- 
46 


SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
grown pig's ears, and the animal closed his eyes in bliss, laid his 
head in Garion's lap, and grunted contentedly. 
"We were coming down the trail out of the mountains," Gallon said, 
"and we saw a lot of smoke out on the plain. Is there some kind of 
trouble out there?" 
"The worst kinda trouble there is, friend," the old man said 
seriously. He squinted at Garion again. "You're not one of them Malor- 
eens, are you?" 
"No," Garion assured him, "not Mallorean. I come from farther west," 
"I didn't know there was anythin' to the west of the Mal-or-eens. 
Anyhow, there's whole bunches of people down there on the plains 
havin' some kind of a argument about religion." 
"Religion?" 
"I don't hold much with it myself," the Karand admitted. "There's 
them as do and them as don't, and I'm one of them as don't. Let the 
Gods take care of theirselves, I say. I'll take care of me and mine, 
and we're quits on the whole business." 
"Seems like a good way," Garion said carefully. 
"Glad you see it like that. Anyhow, there's this Grolim named 
Zandramas down in Dar-sheeva. This Zandramas, she come up into 
Voresebo and started talkin' about this here new God of Angarak—Torak 
bein' dead an' all, y'know. Now, I'm just about as interested in all 
that as my peg is. He's a smart peg and he knows when people is 
talkin* nonsense." 
Garion patted the pig's muddy flank, and the plump little animal made 
an ecstatic sound. "Good pig," Garion agreed. "Peg, that is." 
"I'm fond of him. He's warm and good to snuggle up against on a cold 
night—and he don't hardly snore none at all. Well, sir, this 
Zandramas, she come up here and started preachin' and yellin' and I 
don't know what all. The Grolims all gives out a moan and falls down 
on their faces. Then, a while back, a whole new bunch of Grolims 
comes over the mountains, and they says that this Zandramas is dead 
wrong. They says that there's gonna be a new God over Angarak, right 
enough, but that this Zandramas don't have the straight of it. That's 
what all the smoke down there 
DAVID EDDINGS 
47 
on the plains is about. Both sides is a-burnin* and a-killin' and apreachin' 
about their idea of who the new God's gonna be. I'm not 
gonna have anythin' to do with either side. Me and my peg are gonna 
go back up in the mountains and let them folks kill each other. When 
they get it all sorted out, we'll come back and nod at whichever 
altar comes out on top as we go by." 
"You keep calling this Zandramas 'she,' " Garion noted. 
"Would you believe it's a womanT' the Karand snorted. "That's the 


foolishest thing I ever heard tell of. Women got no business mixin' 
up in men's affairs." 
"Have you ever seen her?" 
"Like I say, I don't mess around in religious stuff. Me and my peg, 
we just kinda keep to ourselves when it conies to that." 
"Good way to get along," Garion said to him. "My friends and I have 
to go through that plain down there, though. Are Grolims all we need 
to worry about?" 
"I can see you're a stranger," the Karand said, suggestively looking 
down into his empty tankard. 
"Here," Garion said, "let's get another one." He fished another coin 
out of the pouch at his waist and signaled the servingman. 
"The whole thang, friend," the garrulous owner of the pig went on, 
"is that in this part of the country, them Grolims always has troops 
with 'em. The ones as follows Zandramas, they got the army of the 
king of Voresebo with 'em. The old king, he didn't hold with none of 
this religious stuff, but he got hisself de-posed. His son decided 
the old man was gettin' too silly to run the country, so he set his 
pa aside and took the throne for hisself. The son's a squinty-eyed 
sort and he's lookin* to put hisself on the side most likely to win. 
He's throwed in with Zandramas, but then this Urvon fella, he comes 
along, and he's got this whole army out of Jenno and Ganesia and 
folks in armor and some real ugly big black dogs with him—not to 
mention all the Grolims. It's mean down there on the plains, friend. 
They're killin' and burnin' and sacrificin1 prisoners on this altar 
or mat. If it was me, I'd go a long way around all that foolishness." 
"I wish I could, friend," Garion told him sincerely. "We 
48 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
49 
heard that there were demons up in Jenno—off toward Cal-lida. Have 
any of them shown up around here?" 
"Demons?" The Karand shuddered, making the sign against evil. "None 
that I ever heard tell of. If I had, me and my peg would already be 
so far back in the mountains that they'd have to ship daylight in to 
us by pack train." 
Despite himself, Garion found that he liked this gabbly old fellow. 
There was an almost musical flow to his illiterate speech, a kind of 
warm inclusiveness that paid no attention to any kind of social 
distinctions, and a shrewd, even penetrating, assessment of the chaos 
around him. It was almost with regret that Garion briefly 
acknowledged Silk's jerk of the head in the direction of the door. 
Gently, he removed the pig's head from his lap. The animal made a 
small, discontented sound. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to go now," 
he told the Karand as he rose to his feet. "I thank you for your 


company—and the loan of your pig." 
"Peg," the Karand corrected. 
"Peg," Garion agreed. He stopped the servingman who was going by and 
handed him a coin. "Give my friend and his peg whatever they'd 
like," he said. 
"Why, thank you, my young friend." The old Karand grinned
expansively. 
"My pleasure," Garion said. He looked down. "Have a nice day, pig," 
he added. 
The pig grunted rather distantly and clattered around the table to
his master. 
Ce'Nedra wrinkled her nose as he approached the shady spot where the 
ladies had been waiting. "What on earth have you been doing, 
Garion?" she asked. "You smell awful." 
"I was getting acquainted with a pig." 
"A pig?" she exclaimed. "Whatever for?" 
"You almost had to have been there." 
As they rode along exchanging the information they had gleaned, it 
became evident that the owner of the pig had offered a surprisingly 
complete and succinct perception of the situation in Voresebo. Garion 
repeated the conversation, complete with dialect. 
"He didn't really talk that way, did he?" Velvet giggled 
incredulously.
"Why, no'm," Garion said, exaggerating just a bit, "when you get
right down to the core of it, he didn't. There was 'theses' and
'theses' and 'themses' that I can't quite get the hang of. Me and the 
pig got along good, though." 
"Garion," Polgara said a bit distantly, "do you suppose you could 
ride back there a ways?" She gestured toward the rear of the column. 
' 'Several hundred yards or so, I 'd say.'' 
"Yes, ma'am," he said. He reined Chretienne in. The big gray horse, 
he noted, also seemed a bit offended by something in the air. 
By general request, Garion bathed that night in a shockingly cold 
mountain stream. When he returned, shivering, to the fire, Belgarath 
looked at him and said, "I think you'd better put your armor back on. 
If half of what your friend with the pig said is true, you might need 
it." 
"Peg," Garion corrected. 
"What?" 
"Never mind." 
The next morning dawned clear and definitely chilly. The mail coat 
felt clammy even through the padded tunic Garion always wore under 
it, and it was heavy and uncomfortable. Durnik cut him a lance from a 
nearby thicket and leaned it against a tree near where the horses
were picketed. 
Belgarath came back from a small hilltop where he had been surveying 



the plains below. "From what I can see, the turmoil is fairly general 
down there, so there isn't much point in trying to avoid people. The 
quicker we get past Voresebo, the better, so we might as well ride 
straight on through. We'll try to talk our way out of any 
difficulties first; and, if that doesn't work, we'll do it the other 
way." 
"I suppose I'd better go find another club," Sadi sighed. 
They rode out with Garion jingling along in the lead. His helmet was 
in place, and his shield was strapped to his left , arm. The butt of 
his lance rested beside his foot in his stirrup, and he affected a 
menacing scowl. The sword strapped Across his back pulled steadily at 
him, indicating that they were still on the trail of Zandramas. When 
they reached the ; edge of the foothills, the winding mountain track 
became a narrow, rutted road stretching off toward the southeast. 
They picked up their pace and moved along the road at a brisk 
50 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
51 
A few miles out onto the plain, they passed a burning village set 
back about a half mile from the road. They did not stop to 
investigate. 
About noon, they encountered a party of armed men on foot. There were 
about fifteen of them, and they wore clothing which vaguely resembled 
uniforms. 
"Well?" Garion said back over his shoulder, tightening his grip on 
his lance. 
"Let me talk to them first," Silk said, moving his horse forward. 
"Try to look dangerous." The little man walked his horse toward the 
strangers. "You're blocking the road," he told them in a flat, 
unfriendly tone. 
"We have orders to check everyone who passes," one of them said, 
looking at Garion a little nervously. 
"All right, youVe checked us. Now stand aside." 
"Which side are you on?" 
"Now, that's a stupid question, man," Silk replied. "Which side are 
you on?" 
"I don't have to answer that." 
"Then neither do I. Use your eyes, man. Do I look like a Karand—or a 
Temple Guardsman—or a Grolim?" 
"Do you follow Urvon or Zandramas?" 
"Neither one. I follow money, and you don't make money by getting 
mixed up in religion." 
The roughly dressed soldier looked even more uncertain. "I have to 
report which side you're on to my captain." 
"That's assuming that you've seen me," Silk told him, bouncing a 


purse suggestively on the palm of his hand. "I'm in a hurry, friend. 
I have no interest in your religion. Please do me the same courtesy." 
The soldier was looking at the purse in Silk's hand with undisguised 
greed. 
"It would be worth quite a bit to me not to be delayed," Silk 
suggested slyly. He theatrically wiped his brow. "It's getting hot 
out here," he said. "Why don't you and your men go find some shade to 
rest in? I'll 'accidentally' drop this purse here, and you can 
'find' it later. That way, you make a nice profit, and I get to move 
along without interference and without having someone in authority 
find out that IVe passed." 
"It is getting warm out here," the soldier agreed. 
"I thought you might have noticed that." 
The other soldiers were grinning openly. 
"You won't forget to drop the purse?" 
"Trust me," Silk said. 
The soldiers trooped across the field toward a grove of trees. Silk 
negligently tossed the purse into the ditch beside the road and 
motioned for the others to come ahead. "We might want to move right 
along," he suggested. 
"Another purse full of pebbles?" Durnik grinned. 
"Oh, no, Durnik. The purse has real money in it— Mallorean brass 
halfpennies. You can't buy very much with them, but they're real 
money, right enough." 
"What if he'd asked to see what was inside?" 
Silk grinned and held up his cupped hand. Tightly wedged between the 
folds of skin in his palm were several silver coins. "I like to be 
ready for eventualities," he said. Then he looked back over his 
shoulder. "I think we should leave now. The soldiers are coming back 
to the road." 
The next encounter was a bit more serious. Three Temple Guardsmen 
blocked the road. Their shields were in front of them and their 
lances were at the ready. Their faces were devoid of thought. "My 
turn," Garion said, settling his helmet more firmly in place and 
shifting his shield. He lowered his lance and thumped Chretienne with 
his heels. As he charged, he could hear another horse pounding along 
behind him, but he did not have time to look back. It was all so 
stupid, but he felt that surge in his blood again. "Idiocy," he 
muttered. Then he easily unhorsed the Guardsman in the center. 
Durnik, he noted, had cut his lance perhaps two feet longer than was 
standard. With a quick flick of his shield, he deflected the lances 
of the other two Guardsmen and thundered on between them. 
Chretienne's hooves slammed down into the still-tumbling body of the 
fallen Guardsman. Garion reined in sharply and whirled the big gray 
to face the two he had left behind. But there was no need. The man 
riding behind him was Toth, and the two Guardsmen had already tumbled 


limply from their saddles. 
"I could find work for you in Arendia, Toth," he said to the huge 
man. "Somewhere there has to be someone to convince them that they're 
not invincible." 
Toth grinned at him in a soundless laugh. 
52 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
53 
Central Voresebo was in total chaos. Pillars of smoke rose from 
burning villages and farms. Crops had been put to the torch, and 
bands of armed men savagely attacked each other. One such skirmish 
was taking place in a burning field, and both sides were caught up in 
such a frenzy that they paid no attention to the wall of flame 
sweeping down on them. 
Mutilated bodies seemed to be everywhere, and there was no way Garion 
could shield Ce'Nedra from the horrors littering the ditches and even 
the road itself. 
They galloped on. 
As dusk descended over the stricken countryside, Durnik and Toth 
turned aside from the road to seek shelter for the night. They 
returned to report that they had discovered a low thicket lying in a 
gully a mile or so back from the road. "We won't be able to build any 
fires," Durnik said soberly, "but if we stay fairly quiet, I don't 
think anybody's going to find us." 
The night was not pleasant. They took a cold supper in the thicket 
and tried for what scant shelter they could make out of what was 
available, since they could not erect their tents in the dense brush. 
Autumn was in the air, and it was cold, once the sky turned dark. As 
the first light of dawn touched the eastern horizon, they rose, ate a 
hasty breakfast, and rode on. 
The cold, miserable night and the senseless slaughter all around them 
made Garion angry, and he grew angrier with each passing mile. About 
midmorning he saw a black-robed Grolim standing beside an altar 
several hundred yards out in a field to the right of the road. A band 
of roughly dressed soldiers were dragging three terrified villagers 
toward the altar by ropes tied about the victims' necks. Garion did 
not even stop to think. He discarded his lance, drew Iron-grip's 
sword, cautioned the Orb to avoid display, and then charged. 
The Grolim was apparently so caught up in his religious frenzy that 
he neither heard nor saw Garion bearing down on him. He screamed once 
as Chretienne thundered over the top of him. The soldiers took one 
startled look at Gar-ion, threw away their weapons, and fled. That 
did not seem to satisfy his anger, however. Implacably, he pursued 
them. His anger was not so great, though, as to goad him into 
killing unarmed men. Instead, he simply rode them down one by one. 


When the last had tumbled beneath the big gray's hooves, Garion 
wheeled, freed the prisoners, and cantered back to the road. 
"Don't you think that was a little excessive?" Belgarath demanded 
angrily. 
"Not under the circumstances, no," Garion snapped back. "At least I'm 
fairly sure that one group of soldiers in this stinking country won't 
be dragging civilians to the altar—at least not until all the broken 
bones mend." 
Belgarath snorted in disgust and turned away. 
Still enraged, Garion glared belligerently at Polgara. "Well?" he 
demanded. 
"I didn't say anything, dear," she said mildly. "Next time, though, 
don't you think you should let your grandfather know what you're 
planning? These little surprises set his teeth on edge sometimes." 
Beldin came flaring in. "What happened out there?" he asked curiously 
when he had resumed his own form. He pointed at the groaning soldiers 
dotting the nearby field. 
"My horse needed some exercise," Garion said flatly. "Those soldiers 
got in his way." 
"What's got you so foul-tempered this morning?" 
"This is all so stupid." 
"Of course it is, but get ready for some more of it. The border of 
Rengel is just ahead, and things are just as bad down there as they 
are here." 
DAVID EDDINGS 
55 
CHAPTER THREE 
They paused at the border to consider their alternatives. The 
guardpost at the boundary was deserted, but black columns of smoke 
rose from burning villages, and they could clearly see large groups 
of men moving across the landscape, looking tiny in die distance. 
"Things are a tittle more organized down here," Beldin reported. 
"About all we saw in Voresebo were fairly small bands, and they were 
more interested in loot than fighting. The groups are bigger on up 
ahead, and there's a certain semblance of discipline. I don't think 
we'll be able to bluff our way through Rengel the way we did 
Voresebo." 
Toth made a series of obscure gestures. 
"What did he say?" Belgarath asked Durnik. 
"He suggests that we travel at night," Durnik replied. 
"That's an absurd notion, loth," Sadi protested. "If 
54 
things are dangerous in the daytime, they'll be ten times more 
dangerous at night." 
Toth's hands began to move again. For some reason, Gar-ion found that 
he could almost understand what the huge mute was trying to say. 


"He says that you looked at the idea too fast, Sadi," Durnik 
translated. "We've got certain advantages." The smith frowned 
slightly, and he looked back at his friend. "How did you find out 
about that?" he asked. 
Toth gestured again. 
"Oh," Durnik nodded. "I guess she would know, wouldn't she?" He 
turned to the others. "He says that Belgarath, Pol, and Garion can 
lead the way in their other forms. The darkness wouldn't be that big 
a problem for a pair of wolves and an owl.'' 
Belgarath tugged thoughtfully at one earlobe. "It's got 
possibilities," he said to Beldin. "We could avoid just about anybody 
out there that way. Soldiers don't move around in the dark very 
much." 
"They post sentries, though," the hunchback pointed out. 
"Garion, Pol, and I wouldn't have much trouble locating them and 
leading the rest of you around them." 
"It's going to be slow going," Velvet said. "We won't be able to 
travel at a gallop, and we'll have to detour around every sentry we 
come across." 
"You know," Silk said, "now that I think about it, it's not such a 
bad idea. I sort of like it." 
"You always enjoy sneaking around in the dark, Khel-dar," Velvet said 
to him. 
"Don't you?" 
"Well—" Then she smiled at him. "I suppose I do, yes— but then, I'm a 
Drasnian, too." 
"It would take too long," Ce'Nedra protested. "We're only a little 
way behind Zandramas. If we try to sneak, she'll get ahead again." 
"I don't see that we've got much choice, Ce'Nedra," Garion told her 
gently. "If we just try to plow our way across Rengel, sooner or 
later we're going to run into more soldiers than we can handle." 
56 SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"You're a sorcerer," she said accusingly. "You could wave your hand 
and just knock them out of our way." 
"There are limits to that, Ce'Nedra," Polgara said. "Both Zandramas 
and Urvon have Grolims in the region. If we tried to do it that way, 
everybody in Renget would know exactly where we were." 
Ce'Nedra's eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip began to 
tremble. She turned and ran blindly away from the road, sobbing. 
"Go after her, Garion," Polgara said. "See if you can get her calmed 
down." 
They took shelter for the rest of the day in a grove of beech trees 
about a mile from the road. Garion tried to sleep, knowing that the 
night ahead of them would be very long; but after about an hour, he 
gave up and wandered restlessly about the camp. He shared Ce'Nedra's 
impatience. They were so close to Zandramas now, and moving at night 


would slow their pace to a crawl. Try though he might, however, he 
could think of no alternative. 
As the sun was going down, they struck camp and waited at the edge of 
the beech grove for it to get dark. "I think I've just hit a flaw in 
the plan," Silk said. "Oh?" Belgarath asked. 
"We need the Orb to be able to follow Zandramas. If Garion turns into 
a wolf, the Orb won't be able to tell him which way to go—or will 
it?" 
Belgarath and Betdin exchanged a long look. "I don't know," Belgarath 
admitted. "Do you?" 
"I haven't got the slightest idea," Beldin said. "Well, there's only 
one way to find out," Garion said. He handed Chretienne's reins to 
Durnik and went some distance away from the horses. Carefully, he 
created the image of the wolf in his mind, then he began to focus his 
will upon the image. He seemed, as always, to go through a peculiar 
sensation of melting, and men it was done. He sat on his haunches for 
a moment, checking himself over to make sure everything was there. 
His nose suddenly caught a familiar fragrance. He turned his head and 
looked back over his shoulder. Ce'Nedra stood there, her eyes very 
wide and the fingertips of one hand to 
DAVID EDDINGS 
57 
her lips. "I-is that still really you, Garion?" she stammered. 
He rose to his feet and shook himself. There was no way he could 
answer her. Human words would not fit in the mouth of a wolf. 
Instead, he padded over to her and licked her hand. She sank to her 
knees, wrapped her arms about his head, and laid her cheek against 
his muzzle. "Oh, Gar-ion," she said in a tone of wonder. 
On an impulse born out of sheer mischief, he deliberately licked her 
face from chin to hairline. His tongue was quite long—and quite wet. 
"Stop that," she said, giggling in spite of herself and trying to 
wipe her face. He momentarily touched his cold nose to the side of 
her neck. She flinched away. Then he turned and loped off toward the 
road where the trail was. He paused in the bushes beside the road and 
carefully peered out, his ears alert and his nose searching for the 
scent of anyone in the vicinity. Then, satisfied, he slipped out of 
the bushes with his belly low to the ground to stand in the middle of 
the road. 
It was not the same, of course. There was a subtle difference to the 
pulling sensation, but it was still there. He felt a peculiar 
satisfaction and had to restrain an urge to lift his muzzle in a howl 
of triumph. He turned then and loped back toward where the others 
were hidden. His toe-nails dug into the turf, and he exulted in a 
wild sense of freedom. It was almost with regret that he changed back 
into his own shape. 
"Well?" Belgarath asked as he walked toward them in the gathering 


dusk. 
"No problem," Garion replied, trying to sound casual about it. He 
suppressed the urge to grin, knowing that his offhand manner would 
irritate his grandfather enormously. 
"Are you really sure we need him along on this trip?" Belgarath asked 
his daughter. 
"Ah—yes, father," she said. "He is sort of necessary." 
"I was afraid you might feel that way about it." He looked at the 
others. "All right," he said. "This is the way it works. Pol and 
Durnik can keep in touch with each other over quite some distance, so 
he'll be able to warn you if we 
58 SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
run across any soldiers—or if the trail moves off the road. Move at a 
walk to keep down the noise, and be ready to take cover on short 
notice. Garion, keep your mind in contact with Pol's and don't forget 
that you've got a nose and ears as well as eyes. Swing back to the 
road from time to time to make sure we're still on the trail. Does 
anybody have any questions?" 
They all shook their heads. 
"All right then, let's go." 
"Do you want me to go along?" Beldin offered. 
"Thanks all the same, uncle," Polgara declined, "but hawks don't 
really see all that well in the dark. You wouldn't be much help after 
you'd flown head-on into a 
few trees." 
It was surprisingly easy. The first impulse of any group of soldiers 
when setting up for the night is to build fires, and the second is to 
keep them going until the sun comes up. Guided by these cheery 
beacons, Garion and Belgarath were able to locate the night 
encampments of all the bands of troops in the area and to sniff out 
the sentries. As luck had it, in most cases the troops had set up 
some distance from the road, and the party was able to ride through 
undetected. 
It was well into the night. Garion had crept to the top of a hill to 
survey the next valley. There were a fair number of campfires out 
there, winking at him in the darkness. 
"Garion?" Ce'Nedra's voice seemed right on top of him. With a 
startled yelp, he jumped high in the air. 
It took him a moment to regain his composure. "Ce'Nedra," he whined 
plaintively, "please don't do that. You almost scared me out of my 
fur." 
"I just wanted to be sure you were all right," she said defensively. 
"If I have to wear this amulet, I may as well get some use out of 
it." 
"I'm fine, Ce'Nedra," he said in a patient tone. "Just don't startle 
me like that. Wolves are edgy animals." 


"Children," Polgara's voice cut in firmly. "You can play some other 
time. I'm trying to hear Durnik, and you're drowning him out with all 
this chatter." 
"Yes, Aunt Pol," Garion replied automatically. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
59 
"I love you, Garion," Ce'Nedra whispered by way of farewell. 
They traveled by night and sought cover as dawn began to stain the 
eastern sky for the next several days. It all became so easy that 
finally Garion grew careless. He was padding through a thicket on the 
fourth night and accidentally stepped on a dry twig. 
"Who's there?" The voice was downwind of him, and the soldier's scent 
had not reached his nostrils. The fellow came pushing into the 
thicket, making a great deal of noise. He was warily holding a spear 
out in front of him. Angry more at himself than at the clumsy sentry, 
Garion shout* dered the spear aside, raised up on his hind legs, and 
put his forepaws on the terrified man's shoulders. Then he swore at 
some length, his oaths coming out as a horrid growling and snarling. 
The soldier's eyes bulged as Garion's awful fangs snapped within 
inches of his face. Then he screamed and fled. Gar-ion slunk guiltily 
out of the thicket and loped away. 
Polgara's voice came to him. "What was that?" 
"Nothing important," he replied, more than a little ashamed of 
himself. "Tell Durnik and the others to swing out to the west for a 
while. This group of soldiers is camped fairly close to the road." 
It was nearly dawn on the following night when the night breeze 
brought the smell of frying bacon to Garion's nostrils. He crept 
forward through the tall grass, but before he could get near enough 
to see who was cooking, he encountered his grandfather. 
"Who is it?" he asked in the manner of wolves. 
"A couple hundred soldiers," Belgarath replied, "and a whole herd of 
pack mules." 
"They're right on the road, aren't they?" 
"I don't think that's going to be a problem. I heard a couple of them 
talking. It seems that they work for Silk." 
"Silk's got his own army?" Garion asked incredulously. 
"So it would seem. I wish that little thief wouldn't keep secrets 
from me." Garion felt the old man's thought reaching out. "Pol, tell 
Durnik to send Silk up here." Then he looked at Garion. "Let's go 
back to the road. I want to have a little talk with the pride of 
Drasnia." 
60 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
61 
They loped back to the road, resumed their own shapes, and 


intercepted Silk. Belgarath, Garion thought, showed enormous 
restraint. "There's a large group of soldiers wearing blue tunics 
just up ahead," he said in a level tone. "Would you by any chance 
know who they are?"
"What are they doing here?" Silk asked with a puzzled frown. "They've 
been told to avoid any area where there's trouble." 
"Maybe they didn't hear you." Belgarath's tone was sarcastic.
"It's a standing order, I'm definitely going to talk with the captain 
about this." 
"You've got a private army?" Garion asked the little man. 
"I don't know that I'd call it an army, exactly. Yarblek and I hired 
some mercenaries to guard our caravans, is all." 
"Isn't that terribly expensive?" 
"Not nearly as expensive as losing those caravans would be. Highway 
robbery is a cottage industry in Karanda, Let's go talk with them." 
"Why don't we?" Belgarath's tone was flat—even unfriendly. 
"You're not taking this very well, old friend."
"Don't crowd it, Silk. I've been slinking through wet grass for five 
nights running. IVe got burrs in my coat and a snarl in my tail
that's going to take me a week to chew out, and all this time you've
had an armed escort within shouting distance." 
"I didn't know they were here, Belgarath," Silk protested. "They're 
not supposed to be here."
Belgarath stalked away muttering curses under his breath.
The muleteers in the camp had begun to load their animals when Silk, 
with Garion walking on one side of him and Belgarath on the other, 
rode in. A hard-bitten looking man with a pockmarked face and thick 
wrists approached them and saluted. "Your Highness," he said to Silk, 
"we didn't know that you were in this part of Mallorea." 
"I move around a lot," Silk said. "Is it all right if we join you, 
Captain Rakos?"
"Of course, your Highness." 
"The rest of our party will be along shortly," Silk told him. "What
are we having for breakfast this morning?" 
"Bacon, fried eggs, chops, hot bread, jam—the usual, your Highness." 
"No gruel?"
"I can have the cook mix some up for you, if you'd like, your
Highness," Rakos replied. 
"No, thanks, Captain," Silk said. "I think I can live without gruel,
for today anyway." 
"Would your Highness care to inspect the troops?" 
Silk made a face, then sighed. "They sort of expect it, don't they?" 
"It's good for morale, your Highness," Rakos assured him. "An 
uninspected trooper begins to feel unappreciated." 
"Right you are, Captain," Silk said, dismounting. "Fall them in if
you would please, and I'll boost their morale." 



The captain turned and bellowed an order. 
"Excuse me," Silk said to Belgarath and Garion. "Certain formalities 
are the price of command.'' He smoothed down his hair with die palm 
of his hand and carefully adjusted his clothing. Then he followed 
Captain Rakos toward die ranks of soldiers standing at attention 
beside the road. His manner was grand as he inspected his troops, and 
he lather meticulously pointed out missing buttons, unshaved faces, 
and boots not polished to perfection. Durnik, Pol-gara, and the 
others arrived while he was progressing down the last rank. Belgarath 
quickly explained the situation to diem. 
When Silk returned, he had a certain self-satisfied look on his face. 
"Was all that really necessary?" Velvet asked him. 
"It's expected." He shrugged. He looked rather proudly at his men. 
"They look good, don't they? I may not have the biggest army in 
Mallorea, but IVe got the sharpest. Why don't we go have some 
breakfast?" 
"IVe eaten soldiers' rations before," Beldin told him. "I think I'll 
go look for another pigeon/' 
"You're jumping to conclusions, Beldin," the little man assured him. 
"Bad food is the greatest cause of dissatisfaction in the ranks in 
any army. Yarblek and I are very careful to hire only the best cooks 
and to provide them with the 
62 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
finest food available. Dry rations might be good enough for Kal 
Zakath's army, but not for mine." 
Captain Rakos joined them for breakfast. Rakos was obviously a field 
soldier and he had certain difficulties with his utensils. 
"Where's the caravan bound?" Silk asked him. 
"Jarot, your Highness." 
"What are we carrying?" 
"Beans." 
"Beans?" Silk sounded a little startled. 
"It was your order, your Highness," Rakos said. "Word came from your 
factor in Mal Zeth before the plague broke out that you wanted to 
corner the market in beans. Your warehouses in Maga Renn are 
overflowing with them, so lately weVe been transferring them to 
Jarot." 
"Why would I do that?" Silk said, scratching his head in bafflement. 
"Zakath was bringing his army back from Cthol Mur-gos," Garion 
reminded him. "He was going to mount a campaign in Karanda. You 
wanted to buy up all the beans in Mallorea so that you could gouge 
the Bureau of Military Procurement." 
"Gouge is such an ugly word, Garion," Silk protested with a pained 
look. He frowned. "I thought I'd rescinded that order." 
"Not that I've heard, your Highness," Rakos said. "You've got tons of 


beans pouring into Maga Renn from all over Delchin and southern 
Ganesia." 
Silk groaned. "How much longer is it going to take us to reach
Jarot?" he asked. "IVe got to put a stop to this." 
"Several days, your Highness," Rakos replied.
"And the beans will just keep piling up the whole time." 
"Probably, your Highness." 
Silk groaned again.
They rode on down through the remainder of Rengel with no further 
incidents. Silk's professional soldiers apparently had a wide 
reputation in the region, and the poorly trained troops of the 
varying factions there gave them a wide berth. Silk rode at the head 
of the column like a field marshal, looking about with a lordly
manner.
DAVID EDDINGS 
63 
"Are you going to let him get away with that?*' Ce'Nedra asked Velvet 
after a day or so. 
"Of course not," Velvet replied, "but let him enjoy it for now. Time
enough to teach him the realities of the situation later on." 
"You're terrible," Ce'Nedra giggled. 
"Naturally. But didn't you do the same thing to our hero here?" 
Velvet looked pointedly at Garion. 
"Liselle," Polgara said firmly, "you're giving away secrets again." 
"Sorry, Lady Polgara," Velvet replied contritely. 
The trail of Zandramas was soon joined by the sullen scarlet trail of 
the Sardion, and both proceeded down across Rengel to the River 
Kallahar and the border of Celanta. The trails also seemed to be
going toward Jarot.
"Why is she going toward the sea?" Garion worriedly asked Belgarath. 
"Who knows?" the old man replied shortly. "She's read the Ashabine
Oracles, and I haven't. It could be that she knows where she's going, 
and I'm just floundering along in the rear."
"But what if—" 
"Please don't 'what if me, Garion," Belgarath said. "IVe got enough
problems already." 
They crossed the River Kallahar aboard a cluster of ferries that
seemed to belong to Silk and arrived in the port city of Jarot on the 
Celanta side. As they rode through the cobbled streets, crowds came
out to cheer. Silk rode at the head of the column graciously waving 
his acknowledgment of the cheers. 
"Have I missed something?" Durnik asked. 
"His people love him very much," Eriond explained.
"His people?" 
"Who owns a man, Durnik?" the blond young man asked sadly. "The one
who rules him, or the one who pays him?" 



Silk's offices in Jarot were opulent—even ostentatious. Mallorean 
carpets lay thick upon the floors, the walls were paneled in rare, 
polished woods, and officials in costly livery were everywhere. 
"One sort of has to keep up appearances," the little man
64 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID En DINGS 
65 
explained apologetically as they entered. "The natives are so
impressed by show." 
"Of course," Belgarath said drily.
"Surely you don't think—" 
"Just let it pass, Silk." 
"But it's all so much fun, Belgarath." Silk grinned.
Belgarath then did something Garion had never thought he would see 
him do. He raised his hands imploringly, assumed a tragic expression, 
and said, "Why me?" 
Beldin chortled. 
"Well?" Belgarath said crossly to him. 
"Nothing," Beldin replied. 
Silk's factor in Jarot was a baggy-eyed Melcene named Kasvor. Kasvor
walked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and he 
sighed often. He came wearily into the office where Silk sat as if
enthroned behind a very large writing desk and the rest of them
lounged in comfortable chairs along the walls. "Prince Kheldar," 
Kasvor said, bowing. 
"Ah, Kasvor," Silk said. 
"IVe seen to the rooms your Highness wanted." Kasvor sighed. "The inn
is called the Lion. It's two streets over. I've taken the entire top 
floor for you."
Durnik leaned over and whispered to Garion. "Wasn't that inn we 
stayed at in Camaar also called the Lion?" he asked. "The place where 
Brendig arrested us that time?" 
"I'd imagine that you could find a Lion Inn in just about every city
in the world," Garion replied. 
"Capital, Kasvor. Capital," Silk was saying. 
Kasvor smiled faintly.
"How's business?" Silk asked. 
"We're showing a fair profit, your Highness." 
"How fair?"
"About forty-five percent." 
"Not bad. I need to talk to you about something else, though. Let's 
stop buying beans." 
"I'm afraid it's a little late for that, your Highness. We own just 
about every bean in Mallorea already." 
Silk groaned and buried his face in his hands. 



"The market's up ten points, though, your Highness." 
"It is?" Silk sounded startled, and his eyes brightened. "How did 
that happen?" 
"There have been all manner of rumors going about and some tentative 
inquiries from the Bureau of Military Procurement. Everyone's been
scrambling around trying to buy up beans, but we've got them all." 
"Ten points, you say?" 
"Yes, your Highness." 
"Sell," Silk said.
Kasvor looked startled. 
"We bought up the bean crop in the expectation of an imperial
military campaign in Karanda. There won't be one now.'' 
"Can your Highness be sure?"
"I have access to certain sources of information. When the word gets
out, the market in beans is going to sink like a rock, and we don't
really want several million tons of beans on our hands, do we? Have
there been any offers?" 
"The Melcene consortium has expressed some interest, your Highness. 
They're willing to go two points above the market." 
"Negotiate with them, Kasvor. When they get to three points above the 
market price, sell. I don't want to have to eat all those beans 
myself." 
"Yes, your Highness." 
Belgarath cleared his throat meaningfully. 
Silk glanced at the old man and nodded. "We just came down through 
Voresebo and Rengel," he said. "Things are a bit chaotic up there." 
"So I've heard, your Highness," Kasvor replied. 
"Is there unrest anywhere else in the region? We have some things to
do in this part of the world and we don't want to have to do them in
a war zone if we don't have to.'' 
Kasvor shrugged. "Darshiva's in an uproar, but there's nothing new 
about that. Darshiva's been in an uproar for the past dozen years. I 
took the liberty of pulling all our people out of that principality. 
There's nothing left there that's worth our while." He looked toward
the ceiling in mock piety. "May Zandramas grow a boil on her nose," 
he prayed. 
66 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
67 
"Amen," Silk agreed fervently. "Is there any place else we ought to
avoid?" 
"I've heard that northern Gandahar is a bit nervous," Kasvor
answered, "but that doesn't affect us, since we don't deal in 
elephants." 
"Smartest decision we ever made," Silk said to Belgar-ath. "Do you



have any idea how much an elephant can eat?" 
"Peldane is also reported to be in turmoil just now, your Highness," 
Kasvor reported. "Zandramas is spreading her infection in all 
directions." 
"Have you ever seen her?" Silk asked him.
Kasvor shook his head. "She hasn't come this far east yet. I think 
she's trying to consolidate her position before she comes this way. 
The Emperor won't mourn the loss of Darshiva, Rengel, and Voresebo
very much, and Peldane and Gandahar are more trouble than they're 
worth. Ce-lanta—and certainly Melcena—-are altogether different 
matters, though." 
"Truly," Silk agreed. 
Kasvor frowned. "I did hear something, though, your Highness," he 
said. "There's a rumor going around the waterfront that Zandramas' 
cohort, Naradas, hired a ship for Melcena a few days ago." 
"Naradas?"
"Your Highness may never have seen him, but he's fairly easy to pick
out of a crowd. He has absolutely white eyes." Kasvor shuddered. 
"Gruesome-looking fellow. Anyway, he's reputed to have been with
Zandramas since the beginning and, as I understand it, he's her right 
arm. There are some other rumors as well, but I don't think I should 
repeat them in the presence of the ladies." He looked apologetically
at Polgara, Ce'Nedra, and Velvet. 
Silk tapped his forefinger thoughtfully on his chin. "So Naradas went 
to Melcena," he said. "I think I'd like to get a few more details 
about that." 
"I'll circulate some people around the waterfront, your Highness," 
Kasvor said. "I'm sure we'll be able to find someone who can give us 
more information." 
"Good," Silk said, rising to his feet. "If you find someone, 
send him to me at the Lion Inn. Tell him that I'll be very 
generous." 
"Of course, your Highness." 
Silk hefted the leather pouch at his belt. "I'll need some money," he 
noted. 
"I'll see to it at once, Prince Kheldar."
As they left the building and walked down the polished stone steps 
toward their horses, Beldin made a disgusted sound. "It's 
unwholesome," he muttered. 
"What is?" Belgarath asked him.
"How lucky you are." 
"I don't quite follow you." 
"Isn't it remarkable that Kasvor just happened to remember the one 
thing you really had to know? He threw it out almost as an 
afterthought." 
"The Gods have always been fond of me," Belgarath replied 



complacently. 
"You think of luck as a God? Our Master would put you on bread and 
water for several centuries if he heard you talking like that." 
"It may not have been entirely luck," Durnik said thoughtfully. "This 
prophecy of ours has nudged people a bit now and then. I remember one 
time in Arendia when Ce'Nedra was supposed to give a speech. She was 
so terrified she was almost sick until a drunken young nobleman 
insulted her. Then she got angry, and her speech set fire to the 
whole crowd. Pol said that maybe the prophecy had made him get drunk 
so that he'd insult Ce'Nedra in order to make her angry enough to 
give the speech. Couldn't this have been sort of like that? Fate 
instead of luck?" 
Beldin looked at the smith, his eyes suddenly alight. "This man is a 
jewel, Belgarath," he said. "I've been looking for someone to talk 
philosophy with for centuries now, and here he is, right under my 
nose." He put his large, gnarled hand on Durnik's shoulder. "When we 
get to that inn, my friend," he said, "you and I are going to begin a 
very long conversation. It might just go on for several centuries." 
Polgara sighed. 
The Lion Inn was a large building with walls of yellow 
68 SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
brick and a red tile roof. A broad stairway led up to an imposing 
main door attended by a liveried footman. "Where are the stables?" 
Durnik asked, looking about. "Probably around back," Silk replied. 
"Melcene architecture is a bit different from the style in the West." 
As they dismounted, two grooms came trotting around the building to 
take their horses. Silk mounted the stairs, and the footman at the 
door bowed deeply to him. "This house is honored by your presence, 
Prince Kheldar," he said. "My master's waiting inside to greet you." 
"Why, thank you, my good man," Silk replied, giving him a coin. 
"There may be someone along later to see me. It's possible that he'll 
be a sailor or a longshoreman. When he arrives, would you be so good 
as to send him to me immediately?" 
"Of course, your Highness." 
The top floor of the inn was palatial. The rooms were large and 
deeply carpeted. The walls were covered with white mortar, and the 
windows were draped with blue velvet. The furnishings were massive 
and comfortable-looking. The doorways were arched. 
Durnik wiped his feet carefully before entering. He looked around. 
"They seem to be awfully fond of arches," he noted. "I've always 
preferred post-and-lintel construction myself. For some reason, I 
just don't quite trust an arch." 
"It's perfectly sound, Durnik," Silk assured him. 
"I know the theory," Durnik said. "The trouble is that I don't know 
the man who built the arch, so I don't know if he can be trusted." 
"Do you still want to talk philosophy with him?" Bel-garath said to 


Beldin. 
"Why not? Solid practicality has a place in the world, too, and 
sometimes my speculations get a little airy." 
"I think the word is windy, Beldin. Windy." 
"You didn't really have to say that, did you?" 
Belgarath looked at him critically. "Yes," he replied. "I think I 
did." 
Polgara, Ce'Nedra, and Velvet retired to an elaborate bath that was 
even larger than those in their quarters in the imperial palace at 
Mal Zeth. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
69 
While the ladies were bathing, Silk excused himself. "There are a few 
other things I need to attend to," he explained. "I won't be very 
long." 
It was after bath time, but before suppertime, when a wiry little 
fellow in a tar-smeared canvas smock was escorted into the main 
sitting room. "I was told that there was a Prince Kheldar as was 
wantin' words with me," he said, looking around. He spoke in a brogue 
almost identical to Feldegast's. 
"Ah—" Garion floundered, "the prince has stepped out fora moment." 
"I surely don't have all day to sit around coolin' me heels, me 
boy," the little fellow objected. "I've things to do an' people to 
see, don't y' know." 
"I'll handle this, Garion," Durnik said mildly. 
"But-" 
"It's no problem at all," Durnik said just a bit more firmly. He 
turned to the little deckhand. "The prince just had a few questions, 
is all," he said in an almost lazy tone. "It's nothing that you and I 
can't take care of without bothering his Highness." He laughed. "You 
know how these highborn people are—excitable." 
"Now dial's the truth, surely. There's nothin' like a title t* rob a 
man of his good sense." 
Durnik spread his hands. "What can I say?" he said. "Why don't we sit 
down and talk a bit? Would you take a spot of ale?" 
"I've been known t' take a sup from time t' time." The little fellow 
grinned. "Yer a man after me own heart, me friend. What trade is it 
ye follow?" 
Durnik held out his callused and burn-scarred hands. "I'm a 
blacksmith," he admitted. 
"Whoosh!" the dockhand exclaimed. " Tis a hot an' heavy line o' work 
ye've chose fer yerself. I labor on the docks, meself. 'Tis heavy 
enough, but at least it's out in the open air." 
"It is indeed," Durnik agreed in that same easygoing fashion. Then he 
turned and snapped his fingers at Belgarath. "Why don't you see if 
you can find some ale for my friend and me?" he suggested. "Get some 


for yourself, too—if you're of a mind." 
70 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
Belgarath made a number of strangling noises and went to the door to 
talk to the servant waiting outside. 
"A relative of my wife's," Durnik confided to the tar-smeared man. 
"He's not quite bright, but she insists that I keep him on. You know 
how that goes." 
"Oh, by the Gods, yes. Me own dear wife's got cousins by the score 
who can't tell one end of a shovel from another. They kin surely find 
the ale barrel an' supper table, though.'' 
Durnik laughed. "How's the work?" he asked. "On the docks, I mean?" 
"Tis cruel hard. The masters keep all the gold fer their-selves, and 
we git the brass." 
Durnik laughed ironically. "Isn't that always the way of it?" 
"It is indeed, me friend. It is indeed." 
"There's no justice in the world," Durnik sighed, "and a man can only 
bow to the ill winds of fortune." 
"How truly ye speak. I see that yeVe suffered under unkind masters 
yerself." 
"A time or two," Durnik admitted. He sighed. "Well," he said, "on to 
the business at hand, then. The prince has got a certain interest in 
a fellow with white eyes. Have you ever seen him?" 
"Ah," the dockhand said, "that one. May he sink in a cesspool up to 
the eyebrows." 
"YouVe met him, I take it." 
"An' the meetin' gave me no pleasure, I kin tell ye." 
"Well, then," Durnik said smoothly, "I can see that we're of the same 
opinion about this fellow." 
"If it's in yer mind t' kill him, I'll lend ye me cargo hook." 
"It's a thought." Durnik laughed. 
Garion stared in amazement at his honest old friend. This was a side 
of Durnik he had never seen before. He glanced quickly to one side 
and saw Polgara's eyes wide with astonishment. 
At mat moment, Silk came in, but stopped as Velvet motioned him to 
silence. 
"However," Durnik went on slyly, "what better way to upset somebody 
that we bom dislike than to overturn a scheme he's been hatching for 
a year or more?" 
DAVID EDDINGS 
71 
The dockhand's lips peeled back from his teeth in a feral grin. "I'm 
listenin', me friend," he said fervently. "Tell me how to spoke the 
white-eyed man's wheel, an' I'm with ye to the end." He spat in his 
hand and held it out. 
Durnik also spat on his palm, and the two of them smacked their hands 


together in a gesture as old as time. Then the smith lowered his 
voice confidentially. "Now," he said, "we've heard that this whiteeyed 
one—may all of his teeth fall out—hired a ship for Melcena. What 
we need to know is when he left, on what ship, who went with him, and 
where he was to land." 
"Simplicity in itself," the dockhand said expansively, leaning back 
in his chair. 
"You, there," Durnik said to Belgarath, "is that ale on the way?" 
Belgarath made a few more strangling noises. 
"It's so hard to get good help these days." Durnik sighed. 
Polgara tried very hard to stifle a laugh. 
"Well, now," the dockhand said, leaning forward in that same 
confidential manner, "this is what I seen with me own two eyes, so 
I'm not handiiT along secondhand information. I seen this white-eyed 
one come to the docks on a mornin' about five days ago. 'Twas about 
daybreak, it was, an' one of them cloudy mornin's when ye can't tell 
the difference between fog an' smoke, an' ye don't want to breathe 
too deep of either. Anyway, the white-eyed one, he had a woman with 
him in a black satin robe with a hood coverin* her head, an' she had 
a little boy with her." 
"How do you know it was a woman?" Durnik interrupted. 
"Have ye no eyes, man?" the dockhand laughed. "They don't walk the 
same as we do. There's a certain swayin* of the hips that no man 
alive could imitate. 'Twas a woman, right enough, an' ye have me word 
on that. An' the little boy was as fair as a mornin* sunrise, but he 
seemed a little sad. Sturdy little lad he was, an' looked fer all the 
world as if he wished he could put his hands on a sword to rid 
hisself of them as he didn't like too much. Anyway, they went aboard 
ship, an' the ship, she slipped her hawsers an' rowed off into the 
fog. Word was that they was bound fer the city 
72 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
of Melcena—or some well-hid cove nearby, smugglin' not bein* unknown 
in these parts, don't y' know." 
"And this was five days ago?" Durnik asked. 
"Five or four. Sometimes I lose track of the days." 
Durnik seized the man's tar-smeared hand warmly. "My friend," he 
said, "between us, we'll kick all the spokes out of the white-eyed 
man's wheel yet." 
"I'd surely like to help with the kickin'," the deckhand said a bit 
wistfully. 
"You have, friend," Durnik said. "You definitely have. I'll kick a 
time or two for you myself. Silk," the smith said very seriously, "I 
think our friend here should have something to pay him for his 
trouble." 
Silk, looking a bit awed, shook a few coins out of his purse. 


"Is that the best you can do?" Durnik asked critically. 
Silk doubled the amount. Then, after a glance at Durnik's 
disapproving expression, doubled that in gold. 
The deckhand left, his fist clutched protectively around his coins. 
Velvet rose wordlessly to her ieet and curtsied to Durnik with
profound respect.
"Where did you learn how to do that?" Silk demanded. 
Durnik looked at him with some surprise. "Haven't you ever traded
horses at a country fair before, Silk?" he asked. 
"As I told ye, me old friend," Betdin said gaily, "the old speech has 
not died out yet altogether, an' 'tis music to me ears t' hear it
again." 
"Must you?" Belgarath said in a highly offended tone. He turned to
Durnik. "What was all that folksy business?" 
Durnik shrugged. "IVe met that sort of man many times," he explained. 
"They can be very helpful, if you give them a reason to be—but 
they're very touchy, so you have to approach them just right." He
smiled. "Given a little time, I could have sold that fellow a threelegged
horse—and convinced him that he'd got the best of the 
bargain." 
"Oh, my Durnik," Polgara said, throwing her arms about the smith's
neck. "What would we ever do without you?" 
"I hope we never have to find out," be said. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
73 
"All right," Belgarath said, "now we know that Zandra-mas went to 
Melcena. The question is why." 
"To get away from us?" Silk suggested. 
"I don't think so, Kheldar," Sadi disagreed. "Her center of power is
in Darshiva. Why should she run off in the other direction?" 
"I'll work on that." 
"What's in Melcena?" Velvet asked.
"Not too much," Silk replied, "unless you count all the money in
Melcena itself—most of the world's supply, last time I heard." 
"Would Zandramas be interested in money?" the blond girl asked.
"No," Polgara said very firmly. "Money would have no meaning to
her—not at this point. It's something else." 
"The only thing that means anything to Zandramas right now is the 
Sardion, isn't it?" Garion said. "Could the Sar-dion be out there in
the islands someplace?" 
Beldin and Belgarath exchanged a look. "What does that phrase mean?"
Beldin demanded in exasperation. "Think, Belgarath. What does it mean 
when they say the 'Place Which Is No More'?" 
"You're smarter than I am," Belgarath retorted. "You answer the
riddle." 
"I hate riddles!" 



"I think about all we can do at this point is trail along behind and 
find out," Silk said. "Zandramas seems to know where she's going, and 
we don't. That doesn't leave us much choice, does it?" 
"The Sardion came to Jarot as well," Garion mused. "It was a long 
time ago, but the Orb picked up its trail just outside of town. I'll 
go down to the docks and see if both trails are still running 
together. It's possible that Zandramas has some way of following the 
Sardion, the same as we do. She might not really know where it's 
going. Maybe she's just following it." 
"He's got a point there," Beldin said. 
"If the Sardion is hidden somewhere out there in Melcena, this could 
all end before the week is out," Garion •dded. 
"It's too early," Polgara said flatly. 
74 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"Too early?" Ce'Nedra exclaimed. "Lady Polgara, my baby's been gone 
for over a year now. How can you say it's too early?" 
"It has nothing to do with that, Ce'Nedra," the sorceress replied. 
"You've waited a year for the return of your baby. I waited a 
thousand years and more for Garion. Fate and time and the Gods pay no 
attention to our years, but Cyradis said at Ashaba that we still had 
nine months until the final meeting, and it hasn't been that long 
yet." 
"She might have been wrong," Ce'Nedra objected. 
"Perhaps—but only by a second or so either way." 
CHAPTER FOUR 
It was foggy in the harbor the next morning, one of those thick early 
autumn fogs that always hovers on the verge of rain. As they were 
loading the horses, Garion glanced up and found that he could see no 
more than a few feet up the masts of the ship they were boarding. 
Silk stood on die aft deck talking with the ship's captain. 
"It should clear off when we get a few leagues out to sea, your 
Highness," the captain was saying as Garion approached. "There's a 
fairly steady wind that always blows down the passage between die 
coast and Melcena." 
"Good," Silk said. "I wouldn't want to run into anything. How long is 
it likely to take us to get to Melcena?" 
"Most of die day, your Highness," the captain replied. "It's a fair 
distance, but the prevailing wind works to our advantage. The return 
voyage takes several days, though." 
75 
76 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
77 
"We'll be all loaded shortly," Silk told him. 


"We can leave any time you're ready, your Highness." 
Silk nodded and joined Garion at the rail. "Are you feeling any 
better?" he asked. 
"I don't quite follow you." 
"You were just a bit grumpy when you got up this morning." 
"Sorry. I've got a lot on my mind." 
"Spread it around," Silk suggested. "Worries get lighter when you've 
got people to share them with you." 
"We're getting closer," Garion said. "Even if this meeting doesn't
happen out here in the islands, it's still only a matter of a few 
more months." 
' 'Good. I 'm getting a little tired of living out of a saddlebag."
"But we don't know what's going to happen yet."
"Of course we do. You're going to meet Zandramas, divide her down the 
middle with that big knife of yours, and take your wife and son back 
to Riva where they belong." 
"But we don't know that, Silk." 
"We didn't know you were going to win the duel with Torak either, but 
you did. Anyone who goes around picking fights with Gods has very 
little to fear from a second-rate sorceress." 
"How do we know she's second-rate?" 
"She's not a disciple, is she? Or would the word be disciple-ess?" 
"How would I know?" Garion smiled faintly, then grew serious again. 
"1 think Zandramas has stepped over disci-pleship. She's the Child of 
Dark, and that makes her a bit more serious than an ordinary
disciple." He banged his fist down on the rail. "I wish I knew what 
I'm supposed to do. When I went after Torak, I knew. This time I'm 
not sure." 
"You'll get instructions when the time comes, I'm sure."
"But if I knew, I could sort of get ready." 
"I get the feeling that this is not the sort of thing you can get 
ready for, Garion." The little man glanced over the rail at the 
garbage bobbing in the water beside the ship. "Did you follow the 
trail all the way to the harbor last night?" he asked. 
Garion nodded. "Yes—both of them. Both Zandramas 
£ and the Sardion left from here. We're fairly sure that Zan-|:
dramas is going to Melcena. Only the Gods know where the f Sardion 
went." 
I "And probably not even they."
| A large drop of water fell from the rigging lost in the fog ;Y 
overhead and landed with a splat on Silk's shoulder. | "Why is
it always me?" the little man complained. I "What?" 
1 "Anytime something wet falls out of the sky, it lands on 1 me." 
M; "Maybe somebody's trying to tell you something," Gar-jl'ion
grinned. 
f ; Toth and Durnik led the last of the horses up the gangway |;and 



on down into the hold. 
f "That's the lot, Captain," Silk called. "We can leave any I'time 
now." 
Jif "Yes, your Highness," the captain agreed. He raised his J|*oice 
and started shouting orders. 
'! "I've been meaning to ask you about something," Garion J^said 
to Silk. "Always before, you acted almost as if you "! were ashamed 
of your title. Here in Mallorea, though, you ,l;seem to want to 
wallow in it." |r "What a fascinating choice of words." J "You 
know what I mean." 
j Silk tugged at one earlobe. "In the West, my title's an 
^inconvenience. It attracts too much attention, and it gets in 
lltay way. Things are different here in Mallorea. Here, nof 
body takes you seriously unless you've got a title. IVe got 
i-eoe, so I use it. It opens certain doors for me and permits 
Sine to have dealings with people who wouldn't have time 
l^ifor Ambar of Kotu or Radek of Boktor. Nothing's really 
"changed, though." 
> "Then all of that posturing and pomposity—pardon the ! ;terms—are 
just for show?" 
' "Of course they are, Garion. You don't think I've turned Xfcrto a 
complete ass, do you?" 
t, A strange thought came to Garion. "Then Prince Kheldar jdjs as 
much a fiction as Ambar and Radek, isn't he?" f$4 "Of course he 
is." f| "But where's the real Silk?" Ife "It's very hard to say, 
Garion." Silk sighed. "Sometimes 
78 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDOINGS 
79 
I think I lost him years ago." He looked around at the fog. "Let's go 
below," he said. "Murky mornings always seem to start off these 
gloomy conversations." 
A league or so beyond the breakwater, the sky turned a rusty color, 
and the fog began to thin. The sea lying to the east of the coast of 
Mallorea rolled in long, sullen swells that spoke of vast stretches 
of uninterrupted water. The ship ran before the prevailing wind, her 
prow knifing through the swells, and by late afternoon the coast of 
the largest of the Melcene Islands was clearly visible on the 
horizon. 
The harbor of the city of Melcena was crowded with shipping from all 
over Mallorea. Small and large, the vessels jostled against each 
other in the choppy water as Silk's captain carefully threaded his 
way toward the stone quays thrusting out from the shore. It was dusk 
by the time they had unloaded, and Silk led them through the broad 
streets toward the house he maintained there. Melcena appeared to be 


a sedate, even stuffy city. The streets were wide and scrupulously 
clean. The houses were imposing, and the inhabitants all wore robes 
in sober hues. There was none of the bustle here that was evident in 
other cities. The citizens of Melcena moved through the streets with 
decorum, and the street hawkers did not bawl their wares in those 
strident voices that helped so much to raise that continual shouted 
babble that filled the streets of less reserved cities. Although 
Melcena lay in tropic latitudes, the prevailing breeze coming in off 
the ocean moderated the temperature enough to make the climate 
pleasant. 
Silk's house here was what might more properly be called a palace. It 
was constructed of marble and was several stories high. It was 
fronted by a large formal garden and flanked by stately trees. A 
paved drive curved up through the garden to a porch lined with 
columns, and liveried servants stood attentively at the entryway. 
"Opulent," Sadi noted as they dismounted. 
"It's a nice little place," Silk admitted in an offhand way. Then he 
laughed. "Actually, Sadi, it's mostly for show. Personally, I prefer 
shabby little offices in back streets, but Melcena takes itself very 
seriously, and one has to try to fit in, if one plans to do business 
here. Let's go inside." 
They went up the broad steps and through an imposing 
door. The foyer inside the door was very large, and the walls were 
clad with marble. Silk led them on through the foyer and up a grand 
staircase. "The rooms on the ground floor are given over to 
offices," he explained. "The living quarters are up here." 
"What sort of business do you do here?" Durnik asked. '.,, "I didn't 
see anything that looked like a warehouse." V "There aren't many 
warehouses in Melcena," Silk said : as he opened a door and led them 
into a very large, blue-l carpeted sitting room. "The decisions are 
made here, of i course, but the goods are normally stored on the 
mainland. : There's not much point in shipping things here and then f 
turning around and shipping them back again." 

• "That makes sense," Durnik approved. 
The furnishings of the room they had entered were ornate. Divans and
comfortable chairs were clustered in little groupings here and there, 
and wax candles burned in •conces along the wood-paneled walls. 
"It's a little late to be wandering around the streets looking for 
Zandramas," Silk observed. "I thought we might have something to eat,
get a good night's sleep, and then .-: Garion and I can start out 
early in the morning." ; "That's probably the best way to go at
it," Belgarath agreed, sinking down onto a well-upholstered divan. 
"Could I offer you all something to drink while we're <• Waiting for 
dinner?" Silk asked. 
"I thought you'd never ask," Beldin growled, sprawling '>• in a chair 
and scratching his beard.

Silk tugged at a bellpull, and a servant entered immediately. "I 
think we'll have some wine," Silk told him. c "Yes, your 
Highness." "Bring several varieties." 

• "Have you got any ale?" Beldin asked. "Wine sours my stomach." 
"Bring ale for my messy friend as well," Silk ordered, "and tell the 
kitchen that there'll be eleven of us for dinner." 
"At once, your Highness." The servant bowed and quietly left the 
room. 
"You have bathing facilities, I assume?" Polgara asked, % ttmoving 
the light cloak she had worn on the voyage. 
80 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
81 
"You bathed just last night in Jarot, Pol," Belgarath pointed out.
"Yes, father," she said dreamily. "I know." 
"Each suite has its own bath," Silk told her. "They're not quite as 
large as the ones in Zakath's palace, but they'll get you wet."
She smiled and sat on one of the divans. 
"Please, everybody, sit down," Silk said to the rest of them. 
* 'Do you think any of your people here might know what's going on in
the world?" Belgarath asked the little man. 
"Naturally." 
"Why naturally?" 
"My boyhood occupation was spying, Belgarath, and old habits die 
hard. All of my people are instructed to gather information." 
"What do you do with it?" Velvet asked him.
He shrugged. "I sort through it. I get almost as much pleasure from
handling information as I do from handling money. *'
"Do you forward any of this information to Javelin in Boktor?" 
"I send him a few crumbs now and then—just to remind him that I'm
still alive." 
"I'm sure he knows that, Silk." 
"Why don't you send for someone who can bring us up to date?" 
Belgarath suggested. "We've been out of touch for quite a while, and
I'd sort of like to know what certain people are up to." 
"Right," Silk agreed. He tugged the bellpull again, and another 
liveried servant responded. "Would you ask Vetter to step in here for 
a moment?" Silk asked. 
The servant bowed and left. 
"My factor here," Silk said, taking a seat, "We lured him away from
Brador's secret police. He's got a good head for business and he's 
had all that training in the intelligence service."
Vetter proved to be a narrow-faced man with a nervous tic in his left 
eyelid. "Your Highness wanted to see me?" he asked respectfully as he
entered the room.

"Ah, there you are, Vetter," Silk said. "I've been back 
in the hinterlands and I was wondering if you could fill me in on 
what's been happening lately." 
"Here in Melcena, your Highness?" 
"Perhaps a bit more general than that." 
"All right," Vetter paused, gathering his thoughts. "There was a 
plague in Mal Zeth," he began. "The Emperor sealed the city to 
prevent the spread of the disease, I i so, for a time, we couldn't 
get any information out of the capital. The plague has subsided, 
however, so the gates have been opened again. The Emperor's agents 
are moving freely around Mallorea now. 
"There was an upheaval in central Karanda. It appeared to have been 
fomented by a former Grolim named Mengha. The Karands all believed 
that there were demons involved, but Karands think that there's a 
demon behind any unusual occurrence. It does appear, though, that 
there were at least a few supernatural events in the region. Mengha 
hasn't been f seen for quite some time, and order is being gradually 
re-stored. The Emperor took the business seriously enough to 
-"summon the army back from Cthol Murgos to put down the 
| uprising." 
| "Has he rescinded that order yet?" Silk asked. "Ifthings 
fgare quieting down in Karanda, he's not going to need all 
Hthose troops, is he?" 
ij| Vetter shook his head in disagreement. "The troops are 
M still landing at Mal Gemila," he reported. "The word we've 
-^ been getting out of Mal Zeth is that the Emperor has lost ?-• his 
enthusiasm for the conquest of Cthol Murgos. He had t#ersonal reasons 
for the campaign in the first place, and 5 those reasons don't seem 
to be as pressing any more. His I; major concern at the moment seems 
to be the impending 
-.£ confrontation between the Disciple Urvon and Zandramas f Ae 
Sorceress. That situation is about to come to a head. ; Urvon seems 
to be suffering from some form of mental in- 
-| stability, but his subordinates are moving large numbers of 4- 
people into the region in preparation for something fairly fy major. 
Zandramas is also marshaling her forces. Our best ^assessment of the 
situation is that it's only going to be a of time before the Emperor 
moves his forces out of Zeth to restore order. There have been 
reports of sup- 
PI*)' ^ 
82 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
83 
plies being stockpiled at Maga Renn. It's apparent that Kal Zakath 
intends to use it as a staging area." 


"Were we able to capitalize on that in any way?" Silk asked intently. 
"To some degree, your Highness, We sold a part of our bean holdings 
to the Bureau of Military Procurement just today." 
"What was the price?" 
"About fifteen points above what we paid." 
'' You'd better get word to Kasvor in Jarot,'' Silk said with a sour 
expression. "I told him to sell at thirteen. The Mel-cene consortium 
has been making offers. Is the price likely to go higher?" 
Vetter spread one hand and rocked it back and forth uncertainly. 
"Let the word get out that we sold at fifteen and tell Kasvor to hold 
out for that figure. Even if the price goes to sixteen, we'll have 
still taken most of the profit out of the transaction." 
"I'll see to it, your Highness." Vetter frowned a bit. "There's 
something going on in Dalasia," he continued his report. "We haven't 
been able to get the straight of it yet, but the DaJasians all seem 
to be very exited about it. Kelt has been sealed off, so we can't get 
anybody there to investigate, and Kell is the source of just about 
everything that goes on in Dalasia.** 
"Any news from the West?" Garion asked. 
"Things are still stalemated in Cthol Murgos," Vetter replied. "Kal 
Zakath is reducing his forces there and he's called all his generals 
home. He's still holding the cities in eastern Cthol Murgos, but the 
countryside is reverting. It's not certain whether King Urgit is 
going to take advantage of the situation. He has other things on his 
mind." 
"Oh?" Silk asked curiously. 
"He's getting married. A princess from the House of Cthan, as I 
understand it." Silk sighed. 
"King Gethel of Mishrak ac Thull died," Vetter went on, "and he was 
succeeded by his son, Nathel. Nathel's a hopeless incompetent, so we 
can't be sure how long he'll last." Vetter paused, scratching at his 
chin. "We've had reports 
that there was a meeting of the Alorn Council at Boktor. The Alorns 
get together once a year, but it's usually at Riva. About the only 
other thing unusual about it was the fact that a fair number of non-
Alorn monarchs attended." 
"Oh?" Belgarath said. "Who?" 
"The king of the Sendars, the Emperor of Tolnedra, and King Drosta of 
Gar og Nadrak. The king of Arendia was ill, but he sent 
representatives." 
"Now what are they up to?" Belgarath muttered. 
"We weren't able to get our hands on the agenda," Vetter told him, * 
'but not long afterward, a delegation of diplomats from their 
kingdoms went to Rak Urga. There are rumors that some fairly serious 
negotiations are going on." 
"What are they doing1?" Belgarath demanded in an exasperated voice. 


"I've told you over and over not to go off and leave the Alorns 
untended," Beldin said. "If there's any way at ail ;for them to do 
something wrong, they'll do it." 
"The price of gold is up," Vetter continued, "and the price of 
Mallorean crowns is down. Melcene imperials are holding steady, but 
the diamond market is fluctuating so wildly that we've withdrawn our 
investments in that commodity. That's more or less what's current, 
your Highness. 1*11 have a more detailed report on your desk first 
thing in :.the morning." 
"Thank you, Vetter," Silk replied. "That's all for right now." 
Vetter bowed and quietly left. 
Belgarath began to pace up and down, swearing to himself. 
"There's nothing you can do about it, father," Polgara told him, "so 
why upset yourself?" 
"Perhaps they have some reason for what they're doing," Silk 
suggested. 
"What possible reason could they have to be negotiating with the 
Murgos?" 
"I don't know." Silk spread his hands. "I wasn't there when they made 
the decision. Maybe Urgit offered them something they wanted." 
Belgarath continued to swear. 
About a half-hour later, they adjourned to the dining room 
84 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
85 
and took seats near one end of a table that could easily have 
accommodated a half a hundred. The linen was snowy white, the knives 
and forks were solid silver, and the porcelain plates were edged in 
gold. The service was exquisite, and the meal was of banquet 
proportions. 
"I must talk with your cook," Polgara said as they lingered over 
dessert. "He appears to be a man of talent." 
"I should hope so," Silk replied. "He's costing me enough." 
"I'd say you can afford it," Durnik noted, looking around at the 
luxurious furnishings. 
Silk leaned back in his chair, toying with the stem of a silver 
goblet. "It doesn't really make much sense to main-tain a place like 
this when I only come here about twice a year," he admitted, "but 
it's expected, I guess." 
"Doesn't Yarblek use it, too?" Garion asked him. 
Silk shook his head. "No. Yarblek and I have an agreement. I give him 
free rein in the rest of the world as long as he stays out of 
Melcena. He doesn't really fit in here, and he insists on taking 
Vella with him everyplace he goes. Vella really shocks the Melcenes." 
"She's a good wench, though," Beldin said, grinning. "When this is 


all over, I might just buy her." "That's disgusting!" Ce'Nedra 
flared. 'What did I say?" Beldin looked contused. 'She's not a cow, 
you know." 'No. If J wanted a cow, I'd buy a cow." 'You can't just 
buy people." 
'Of course you can," he said. "She's a Nadrak woman. She'd be 
insulted if I didn't try to buy her." 
"Just be careful of her knives, uncle," Polgara cautioned. "She's 
very quick with mem." 
He shrugged. "Everybody has a few bad habits." 
Garion did not sleep well mat night, although the bed he shared with 
Ce'Nedra was deep and soft. At first he thought that might be part of 
the problem. He had been sleeping on the ground for weeks now, and it 
seemed reasonable that he was just not used to a soft bed. About 
midnight, however, he realized that the bed had nothing to do with 
his sleeplessness. Time was moving on inexorably, and his meeting 
with Zandramas marched toward him with a measured, unstoppable 
pace. He still knew little more than he had at the beginning. 
He was, to be sure, closer to her than he had been at the start—no 
more than a week at most behind, if the reports were correct—but he 
was still trailing after her and he still did not know where she was 
leading him. Darkly, he muttered a few choice oaths at the madman who 
had written the Mrin Codex. Why did it all have to be so cryptic? Why 
couldn't it have been written in plain language? 
"Because if it had been, half the world would be waiting for you when 
you got to the place of the meeting,'' the dry voice in his mind told 
him. "You're not the only one who wants to find the Sardion, you 
know, " 
' 7 thought you 'd left for good.'' 
"Oh, no, I'm still around. " 
''How far behind Zandramas are we?" 
' 'About three days.'' 
Garion felt a wild surge of hope. 
' 'Don't get too excited,'' the voice said, ' 'and don't just dash 
off as soon as you find the trail again. There's something else that 
has to be done here.'' 
"What?" 
' 'You know better than to ask that, Garion. I can't tell you, so 
quit trying to trick me into answering. " 
' 'Why can't you just tell me?" 
"Because if I tell you certain things, the other spirit will be free 
to tell other things to Zandramas—like the location of the Place 
Which Is No More, for instance. " 
"You mean she doesn't know?" Garion asked incredulously. 
' 'Of course she doesn 't know. If she knew, she 'd be there by 
now.'' 
"Then the location isn't written down in the Ashabine Oracles ?'' 


"Obviously. Pay attention tomorrow. Somebody's going to say something 
in passing that's very important. Don't miss it. " 
"Who's going to say it?" 
But the voice was gone. 
It was breezy the following morning when Silk and Gar-ion set out, 
wearing long robes of a sober blue color. At 
86 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
87 
Silk's suggestion, Garion had detached the Orb from the hilt of his 
sword and carried it concealed beneath his robe. "Melcenes rarely 
wear arms inside the city," the little man had explained, "and your 
sword is very conspicuous." They did not take their horses, but 
rather walked out into the street to mingle with the citizens of 
Melcena. 
"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 Melcena 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. "Gar-ion," 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 Melcena 
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 Melcena. 
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 bignosed 
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, ZakathJs 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 Melcena, 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 wa- 
88 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
terfront 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 frus-tratingly 
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
89 
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 upcountry, 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, 'Til 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 
IP'11 
90 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
have all morning to listen to him babble. Let's move along, shall 
we?" 
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 Melcena, 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 Cation'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 
91 
92 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
93 
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 Melcena 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 bouse, 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,'' Bel-din 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. 
"Melcena'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." 
ppjj 


SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 


"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 he 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 was 
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 mis 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 tilings." 
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 ac- 
96 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
97 
centuate 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. 
As they cantered past one estate, a large number of gaily dressed 
people crossed the road ahead of them at a gallop, chasing after a 
pack of barking dogs. The people jumped fences and ditches with what 


appeared to be reckless abandon. 
"What are they doing?" Eriond called to Silk. 
"Fox hunting." 
"That doesn't really make any sense, Silk," Durnik objected. "If they 
don't farm, they don't raise chickens. Why are they worried about 
foxes?" 
"It makes even less sense in view of the fact that the fox isn't 
native to these islands. They have to be imported." 
"That's ridiculous!" 
"Of course it is. Rich people are always ridiculous, and their sports 
are usually exotic—and often cruel." 
Bel dm gave an ugly little chuckle. "I wonder how sporting they'd 
find chasing a pack of Algroths—or maybe an Eldrak or two." 
"Never mind," Belgarath told him. 
"It wouldn't really take much effort to raise a few, Belgarath," The 
hunchback grinned. "Or maybe some Trolls," he mused. "Trolls are 
great fun, and I'd love to see the look on the face of one of those 
overdressed butterflies when he 
jumped a fence and came face to face with a full-grown Troll." 
"Never mind," Belgarath repeated. 
The road forked at one point, and the Orb pulled toward the left. 
"She's headed toward the ocean again," Silk noted. "I wonder what it 
is that makes her so fond of water. She's been hopping from island to 
island ever since we started out after her.'' 
"Maybe she knows that the Orb can't follow her over water," Garion 
said. 
"I don't think that would be her major concern at this point," 
Polgara disagreed. "Time's running out—for her as well as us. She 
doesn't have the leisure for side trips." 
The road they were following led down toward the cliffs, and finally 
the Orb pulled Garion onto a long, paved drive that curved down 
toward an imposing house set at the very edge of a precipitous drop 
and overlooking the ocean far below. As they rode toward the house, 
Garion loosened his sword in its scabbard. 
"Expecting trouble?" Silk asked. 
"I just like to be ready," Garion replied. "That's a big house up 
ahead, and a lot of people could be hiding inside." 
The men who came out of the cliff-top villa, however, were not armed 
and they were all garbed in purple livery. "May I ask your 
business?" one of them asked. He was tall and thin and had an 
imposing mane of snowy white hair. He carried himself with an air of 
self-importance, that kind of air usually assumed by senior servants 
accustomed to ordering grooms and maids about. 
Silk pushed forward. "My friends and I have been out for a morning 
ride," he said, "and we were struck by the beauty of this house and 
its location. Is the owner about perhaps?" 


"His Lordship, the Archduke, is away at present," the tall man 
replied. 
' 'What a shame,' * Silk said. He looked around. "I'm really taken 
with this place," he said. Then he laughed. "Maybe it's as well that 
he's not at home. If he 
98 
SORCERESS OP DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
99 
were, I might be tempted to make him an offer for his house." 
"I don't know that his Grace would be very interested," the servant 
said. 
"I don't believe I know his Grace," Silk said artfully. "Do you 
suppose you could tell me his name?" 
"He's the Archduke Otrath, sir," the servant answered, puffing 
himself up slightly. "He's a member of the imperial family." 
"Oh?" 
"He's the third cousin—twice removed—of his Imperial Majesty, Kal 
Zakath." 
"Really? What an amazing thing. I'm so sorry to have missed him. I'll 
tell his Majesty that I stopped by the next time I see him, though." 
"You know his Majesty?" 
"Oh, yes. We're old friends." 
"Might I ask your name, honored sir?" 
"Oh, sorry. How very stupid of me. I'm Prince Kheldar of Drasnia." 
"The Prince Kheldar?" 
"I certainly hope there aren't any others." Si!k laughed. "I can get 
into enough trouble all by myself." 
"His Grace will be very sorry to have missed you, your Highness." 
"I'll be in Melcena for several weeks," Silk said. "Perhaps I can 
call again. When do you expect his Grace to return?" 
"That's very hard to say, your Highness. He left not three days ago 
with some people from the mainland." The white-haired servant paused 
thoughtfully. "If you and your friends wouldn't mind waiting for a 
few moments, Prince Kheldar, I'll go advise her Grace, the Archduke's 
wife, that you're here. Her Grace has so few visitors out here, and 
she loves company. Won't you please come inside? I'll go to her at 
once and tell her that you're here." 
They dismounted and followed him into a broad entry-way. He bowed 
rather stiffly and went off down a corridor lined with tapestries. 
"Very smooth, Kheldar," Velvet murmured admiringly. 
"They don't call me Silk for nothing," he said, polishing his ring on 
the front of his pearl-gray doublet. 
When the tall servant returned, he had a slightly pained look on his 
face. "Her Grace is a bit indisposed at the moment, your Highness," 
he apologized to Silk. 


"I'm sorry to hear that," Silk replied with genuine regret. "Perhaps 
another time, then." 
"Oh, no, your Highness. Her Grace insists on seeing you, but please 
forgive her if she seems a bit—ah—disoriented. 
One of Silk's eyebrows shot up. 
"It's the isolation, your Highness," the servant confided, looking 
embarrassed. "Her Grace is not happy in this somewhat bucolic locale, 
and she's resorted to a certain amount of reinforcement in her 
exile." 
"Reinforcement?" 
"I trust I can count on your Highness' discretion?" 
"Of course." 
"Her Grace takes some wine from time to time, your Highness, and this 
appears to be one of those times. I'm afraid she's had a bit more 
than is really good for her." 
"This early in the morning?" 
"Her Grace does not keep what one might call regular hours. If you'll 
come with me, please." 
As they followed the servant down a long corridor, Silk murmured back 
over his shoulder to the rest of them. "Follow my lead on this," he 
said. "Just smile and try not to look too startled at what I say." 
"Don't you just love it when he gets devious?" Velvet said admiringly 
to Ce'Nedra. 
The archduchess was a lady in her mid-thirties. She had luxurious 
dark hair and very large eyes. She had a pouting lower lip and an 
ever-so-slightly overgenerous figure which filled her burgundy gown 
to the point of overflowing. She was also as drunk as a lord. She had 
discarded her goblet and now drank directly from a decanter. "Prince 
Kheldar," She hiccuped, trying to curtsy. Sadi moved sinuously to 
jcatch her arm to prevent a disaster. 
" 'Scuse me," she slurred to him. "So nice of you." 
**My pleasure, your Grace," the eunuch said politely. 
100 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
She blinked at him several times. "Are you really balder is that an 
affectation?" 
"It's a cultural thing, your Grace," he explained, bow-ing. 
"How disappointing," she sighed, rubbing her hand over his head and 
taking another drink from the decanter. "Could I offer you all 
something to drink?" she asked brightly. 
Most of them declined with faint headshakes. Be 1dm, however, stumped 
forward with his hand extended. "Why not?" the grotesque little man 
said. "Let's try a rip of that, me girl." For some reason he had 
lapsed into Feldegast's brogue. 
Belgarath rolled his eyes ceiling ward. 
The archduchess laughed uproariously and passed over the decanter. 


Beldin drained it without stopping for breath. "Very tasty," he 
belched, tossing the decanter negligently into a corner, "but ale's 
me preference, y'r Ladyship. Wine's hard on the stomach so early of a 
morning." 
"Ale it shall be, then," she crowed happily. "We'll all sit around 
and swill ourselves into insensibility." She fell back on a couch, 
exposing a great deal of herself in the process. "Bring ale," she 
commanded the embarrassed servant, "lots and lots of ale." 
"As your Grace commands," the tall man replied stiffly, withdrawing. 
"Nice enough fellow," the archduchess slurred, "but he's so terribly 
stuffy sometimes. He absolutely refuses to take a drink with me." Her 
eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Nobody wants to drink with me," she 
complained. She held out her arms imploringly to Beldin, and he 
enfolded her in an embrace. ''You understand, don't you, my friend?" 
she sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder. 
' 'Of course I do," he said, patting her shoulder. * 'There, there, 
me little darlin'," he said, " 'twill all be right again soon." 
The noblewoman regained her composure, sniffed loudly, and fished for 
a handkerchief. "It's not that I want to be like this, your 
Highness," she apologized, trying to focus her eyes on Silk. "It's 
just that I'm so absolutely bored out here. Otrath has all the social 
grace of an oyster, so he's 
DAVID EDDINGS 
101 
imprisoned me out here in the hinterlands with nothing but the 
booming of the surf and the screeching of gulls for company. I so 
miss the balls and the dinner parties and the conversation in 
Melcena. What am I to do with myself out here?" 
" Tis crue! hard, me darlin'," Beldin agreed. He took the small cask 
of ale the servant cringingly brought, placed it between his knees, 
and bashed in the top with his gnarled fist. "Would ye care fer a 
sup, sweeting?" he asked the duchess politely, holding out the cask. 
"I'd drown if I tried to drink out of that," she protested with a 
silly little laugh. 
"Right y' are," he agreed. "You there," he said to Belgarath. "Get 
the poor girl a cup or somethin'." 
Belgarath scowled at his gnarled brother, then wordlessly fetched a 
silver tankard from a sideboard. 
Beldin dipped deeply into the cask with the tankard, swiped off the 
bottom with his sleeve, and offered it to their hostess. "To yer good 
health, me darlin'," he said, drinking from the cask. 
"You're so kind," she hiccuped. Then she drained off about half the 
tankard with foamy ale spilling out of the comers of her mouth and 
down the front of her gown. 
"We were very sorry to have missed his Grace," Silk said, obviously a 
little nonplussed by Beldin's rough-and-ready approach to a highborn, 


though tipsy, lady. 
"You didn't miss a thing, your Highness," she burped, politely 
covering her mouth. "My husband's a fat green 
-toad with all the charm of a dead rat. He spends his time 
-trying to decipher his proximity to the imperial throne. Kal Zakath 
has no heir, so all the imperial cousins sit around waiting for one 
another to die and trying to cement alliances. Have you ever been in 
Mal Zetn, your Highness? It's an absolutely ghastly place. Frankly, 
imperial crown or no, I'd sooner live in Hell." She drained her 
tankard and handed it wordlessly back to Beldin. Then she looked 
around brightly, her eyes slightly unfocused. "But my dear Prince 
'Kheldar," she said, "you haven't introduced me to your friends as 
yet." 
; "How terribly forgetful of me, your Grace," he ex-Claimed, 
slapping his hand to his forehead. He rose for- 
102 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
mally to his feet. "Your Grace, I have the honor to present her 
Grace, the Duchess of Erat." He held his hand out grandly to Polgara, 
who rose and curtsied. "Your Grace," she murmured. 
"Your Grace," the archduchess replied, trying to rise, but not quite 
succeeding. 
"There, there, me darlin'," Beldin said, pressing down on her 
shoulder to keep her more or less in place. " Tis early, an' we're 
all friends. There's no need at all fer us t' be goin' through all 
these tiresome formalities." 
"I like him," the noblewoman said, pointing at Beldin with one hand 
and dipping out more ale with the other. "Can I keep him?" 
"Sorry, your Grace," Belgarath said. "We might need him later on." 
"So grim a face," she observed, looking at the ancient sorcerer. She 
grinned roguishly. "I'll wager I could make you smile." 
Silk rushed on. "Her Highness, Princess Ce'Nedra of the House of 
Borune," he said, "and the Margravine Liselle of Drasnia. The young 
man with the sword is known as the Lord of the Western Sea—an obscure 
title, I'll grant you, but his people are an obscure sort of folk." 
Garion bowed deeply to the tipsy archduchess. "So great a sword you 
have, my Lord," she said, "It's a family heirloom, your Grace," he 
replied. "I'm more or less obliged to carry it." 
"The others have no titles they care to acknowledge," Silk said. 
"They're business associates, and we don't worry about titles where 
money is concerned." 
"Do you have a title?" the lady asked Beldin. "Several, me little 
darlin'," he replied in an offhand way, "but none from any land ye'd 
be recognizin' the name of— most of 'em havin' disappeared long 
ago." He raised the cask again and drank noisily. 
"What a dear little man you are," she said in a smoldering sort of 


voice. 
" 'Tis me charm, darlin'," he replied with a resigned sort of sigh. 
" 'Tis always been me bane, this charmin' quality about me. Sometimes 
I must actually hide myself t' keep 
DAVID EDDINGS 
103 
.off the maids overpowered with unreasonin' passion." He sighed 
again, then belched. 
; "We might want to talk about that one of these days," she 
suggested. 
Silk was obviously out of his depth here. "Ah—" he said lamely, "—as 
I was saying, we're sorry to have missed the archduke." 
"I can't for the life of me think why, your Highness," the lady said 
bluntly. "My husband's an unmitigated ass, and he doesn't bathe 
regularly. He has wild aspirations about : the imperial throne and 
very little in the way of prospects in that direction." She held out 
her tankard to Beldin. "Would you, dear?" 
He squinted down into the cask. "It could just be that we'll need 
another, me darlin'," he suggested. 
"I've got a cellar full," she sighed happily. "We can go ;on like 
this for days, if you'd like." 
Belgarath and Beldin exchanged a long look. "Never (••mind," 
Belgarath said. "But-" "Never mind." 
"You were saying that your husband has imperial ambitions, your 
Grace," Silk floundered on. 
"Can you imagine that idiot as emperor of Mallorea?" She sneered. 
"Half the time he can't even get his shoes on the right feet. 
Fortunately, he's a long way down the line of succession." 
Garion suddenly remembered something. "Has anyone : ever suggested 
anything to him that might have encouraged f'tbese ambitions?" he 
asked. 
| "/ certainly didn't," she declared. She frowned blearily sat the 
far wall. "Now that you mention it, though, there >' was a fellow who 
came through here a few years ago—a fellow with white eyes. Have you 
ever seen anybody with eyes like that? It makes your blood run cold. 
Anyway, he and the archduke went off to my husband's study to talk." 
' She snorted derisively. "Study! I don't think my idiot hus-d can 
even read. He can barely talk to me, but he calls room his study. 
Isn't that absurd? Well, at any rate, that happened at a time when I 
was still curious about the oaf's affairs. I'd had one of the footmen 
drill a hole through the 
104 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
105 
wall so I could watch—and hear—what the fool was up to." Her lower 


lip began to tremble. "Not long after that, I saw him in there with 
the upstairs maid." She threw her arms out tragically, sloshing ale 
on Beldin. "Betrayed!" she cried. "In my own house!" 
"What were they talking about?" Garion asked her gently. "Your 
husband and the white-eyed man, I mean?" 
"White-eyes told my husband thaj-somebody named Zan-dramas could 
guarantee him succession to the throne in Mal Zeth. That name sounds 
familiar for some reason. Has anybody ever heard it before?" She 
looked around, trying to focus her eyes. 
"Not that I recall," Silk lied blandly. "Have you ever seen this 
white-eyed man again?" 
The archduchess was busily trying to dip the last bit of ale out of 
the cask. "What?" she asked. 
"The white-eyed man," Belgarath said impatiently. "Did he ever come 
back?" 
"Of course." The lady leaned back and lustily drained her tankard. 
"He was here just a few days ago. He came here with some woman in a 
black satin robe and a little boy." She belched modestly. "Could you 
give that bellpull over there a bit of a jerk, my twisted little 
friend?" she asked Beldin. "I think we've used up all of this cask, 
and I'm still sort of thirsty." 
"I'll see to it at once, me darlin'!" The hunchback stumped to the 
bellpull. 
"It's so very nice to have friends about," the archduchess said 
dreamily. Then her head drooped to one side and she began to snore. 
"Wake her up, Pol," Belgarath said. 
"Yes, father." 
It was a very light surge, but the tipsy noblewoman's eyes popped 
open immediately. "Where was I?" she asked. 
"Ah—you were telling us about the visit of the white-eyed man a few 
days back, your Grace," Silk supplied. 
"Oh, yes. He came in about dusk—him and that hag in black satin." 
"Hag?" Silk asked. 
"She must have been a hag. She went to a lot of trouble to keep her 
face covered. The little boy was adorable, 
though—reddish-blond curls and the bluest eyes you ever saw. I got 
some milk for him, because he was hungry. Anyway, White-eyes and the 
hag went off along with my husband, and then they all took horses and 
rode off. The toad, my husband, told me that he was going to be gone 
for a while and mat I should send for my dressmaker—something about a 
gown suitable for an imperial coronation. I forget exactly.'' 
"What happened to the little boy?" Ce'Nedra asked in a very tense 
voice. 
The archduchess shrugged. "Who knows? As far as I know, they did take 
him with them." She sighed. "I'm suddenly so sleepy," she murmured. 
"Did your husband give you any hint about where they were going?" 


Silk asked her. 
She waved her hands helplessly. "I stopped listening to him years 
ago," she said. "We have a small yacht in a cove about a mile from 
here. It's gone, so I think they took that. My husband was saying 
something about those commercial wharves south of the city." She 
looked around. "Has that other cask of ale got here yet?" she asked 
drowsily. 
" 'Twill only be a moment or two, me darlin'," Beldin assured her in 
a gentle voice. 
"Oh, good." 
"You need anything more?" Silk quietly asked Belgarath. 
"I don't think so." The old man turned to his daughter. "Put her to 
sleep again, Pol," he said. 
"There's no need, father," she replied. She looked rather sadly at 
the lush-bodied noblewoman, who had once again wrapped her arms about 
Beldin's neck, burrowed her face into his shoulder, and was lightly 
snoring. Gently, the dwarfed hunchback disengaged her arms and laid 
her softly on the couch. He straightened her gown, then crossed the 
room, picked up a comforter from a divan, returned, and covered her 
with it. "Sleep well, my Lady," he murmured, touching her face with 
one sad hand. Then he turned and glared pugnaciously at Belgarath. 
"Well?" he demanded in the tone of a man ready to fight. 
"I didn't say anything," Belgarath said to him. 
106 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
Wordlessly, Ce'Nedra rose, went to the hideous little man, embraced 
him, and kissed him on the cheek. 
"What was that all about?" he asked suspiciously. 
"I didn't say anything either," she replied, absently picking a few 
pieces of straw out of his beard and handing them to him. 
CHAPTER SIX 
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 
107 


108 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
109 
sailed from. We need more than that." Silk looked sympathetically at 
his friend. "I know you're impatient, Gar-ion—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." 
"IVe 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 Ml 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 tilings 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." t "Of course it did." 
"I'm sure you'll explain mat to me—sometime in the next week or so." 
110 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
111 
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," Bel-din 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 
112 
SORCERESS OF DARSHJVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
113 
well as the Child of Light. Tbrak 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. "AH 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 
114 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
115 
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 Mel-cena 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 
116
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
for centuries. He's got a bad temper and he smells awful— the 
chemicals he uses, I understand." 
Belgarath'$ 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. 
DAVID EDDINGS H7 
I want to hear the word about Zandramas with my own 
rs. , , 
"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." 
DAVID EDDINGS 
119 
CHAPTER SEVEN 
The University of Melcena was a sprawling complex of buildings 
situated in a vast paik. The buildings were old and stately, and the 
trees dotting the close-clipped lawns were gnaried with age. There 
was a kind of secure serenity about the place that bespoke a 
dedication to the life of the mind. A calm came over Garion as he 
walked with the two old sorcerers across the green lawn, but there 
was a kind of melancholy as well. He sighed. 
"What's the problem?" Belgarath asked him. 
"Oh, I don't know, Grandfather. Sometimes I wish I might have had the 
chance to come to a place like this. It might be kind of nice to 
study something for no reason except that you want to know about it. 
Most of my studying has been pretty urgent—you know, find the answer, 
or the world will come to an end." 
118 
"Universities are overrated places," Beldin said. "Too many young men 
attend simply because their fathers insist, *nd they spend more time 
carousing than they do studying. Hie noise is distracting to the 


serious student. Stick to studying alone. You get more done." He 
looked at Belgarath. "Have you got even the remotest idea where we're 
going to find this Senji?" 
4' Vetter said that he's a member of the faculty of the College of 
Applied Alchemy. I'd imagine that's the place to start." 
^ "Logic, Belgarath? You? The next question that pops to mind is 
where we're going to find the College of Applied Alchemy." 
Belgarath stopped a robed scholar who was walking across the lawn 
with an open book in his hand. "Excuse me, learned sir," he said 
politely, "but could you direct me to the College of Applied 
Alchemy?" 
"Umm?" the scholar said, looking up from his book. "The College of 
Applied Alchemy. Could you tell me where I could find it?" 
"The sciences are all down that way," the scholar said, , "near the 
theology department." He waved rather vaguely toward the south end of 
the campus. 
"Thank you," Belgarath said. "You're too kind." : "It's a 
scholar's duty to provide instruction and direc-| tion," the fellow 
replied pompously. 
"Ah, yes," Belgarath murmured. "Sometimes I lose sight of that." 
They walked on in the direction the scholar had indicated. "If he 
doesn't give his students any more specific direc-tions than that, 
they probably come out of this place with a pnther vague idea of the 
world," Beldin observed. 0' The directions they received from 
others gradually grew .more precise, and they finally reached a 
blocky-looking f building constructed of thick gray rock and solidly 
but-; tressed along its walls. They went up the steps in front and 
V^ntered a hallway that was also shored up with stout but-^Itesses. 
"I don't quite follow the reason for all the interior rein-
I'forcement," Garion confessed. 
As if in answer to his question, there came a thunderous 
120 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
121 
detonation from behind a door partway up the hall. The door blew 
outward violently, and clouds of reeking smoke came pouring out. 
"Oh," Garion said. "Now I understand." 
A fellow with a dazed look on his face and with his clothes hanging 
from his body in smoking tatters came staggering out through the 
smoke. "Too much sulfur," he was muttering over and over again. "Too 
much sulfur." 
"Excuse me," Belgarath said, "do you by any chance know where we 
might find the alchemist Senji?" 
"Too much sulfur," the experimenter said, looking blankly at 
Belgarath. 


"Senji," the old man repeated. "Could you tell us where to find him?" 
The tattered fellow frowned. "What?" he said blankly. 
"Let me," Beldin said. "Can you tell us where to find Senji?" he 
bellowed at the top of his lungs. "He's got a clubfoot." 
"Oh," the man replied, shaking his head to clear his befuddlement. 
"His laboratory's on the top floor—down toward the other end." 
"Thank you," Beldin shouted at him.
"Too much sulfur. That's the problem, all right. I put in too much
sulfur." 
"Why were you shouting at him?" Belgarath asked curiously as the 
three of them went on down the hall. 
"I've been in the middle of a few explosions myself." The hunchback 
shrugged. "I was always deaf as a post for a week or two afterward." 
"Oh." 
They went up two flights of stairs to the top floor. They passed 
another door that had only recently been exploded out of its 
casement. Belgarath poked his head through the opening. "Where can we 
find Senji?" he shouted into the room. 
There was a mumbled reply. 
"Last door on the left," the old man grunted, leading the way. 
"Alchemy seems to be a fairly dangerous occupation," Garion noted. 


•< "Also fairly stupid," Beldin growled. "If they want gold so 
badly, why don't they just go dig it up?" , "I don't think that's 
occurred to very many of them," Belgarath said. He stopped before the 
last door on the left, a door showing signs of recent repair. He 
knocked. "Go away," a rusty-sounding voice replied. "We need to talk 
with you, Senji," Belgarath called mildly. 
The rusty voice told him at some length what he could do with his 
need to talk. Most of the words were very col-.orful. 
i Belgarath's face grew set. He gathered himself up and spoke a 
single word. The door disappeared with a shocking sound. 
"Now that's something you don't see around here very much," the 
grubby little man sitting in the midst of the splintered remains of 
his door said in a conversational tone. 
• **I can't remember the last time I saw a door blow in." He started 
picking splinters out of his beard. "Are you all right?" Garion asked 
him. "Of course, just a little surprised is all. When you've been 
blown up as many times as I have, you sort of get used to the idea. 
Does one of you want to pull this door off me?'' Beldin stumped 
forward and lifted the remains of the door. 
'You're an ugly one, aren't you?" the man on the floor said. 
"You're no beauty yourself." "I can live with it." "So can I." 
"Good. Are you the one who blew my door in?" "He did." Beldin pointed 
at Belgarath and then helped &the fellow to his feet. 
"How did you manage that?" the grubby little man asked |flelgarath 
curiously. "I don't smell any chemicals at all." "It's a gift," 

Belgarath replied. "You're Senji, I take 
"I am. Senji the clubfoot. senior member of the faculty the College 
of Applied Alchemy." He thumped on the l&ide of his head with the 
heel of his hand. "Explosions /ays make my ears ring," he noted. 
"You—my ugly 
122 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
123 
friend," he said to Beldin. "There's a barrel of beer over there in 
the corner. Why don't you bring me some? Get some for yourself and 
your friends as well." 
"We're going to get along fairly well," Beldin said. 
Senji limped toward a stone table in the center of the room. His left 
leg was several inches shorter than his right, and his left foot was 
grotesquely deformed. He leafed through several sheets of parchment. 
"Good," he said to Belgarath. "At least your explosion didn't scatter 
my calculations all over the room." He looked at them. "As long as 
you're here, you might as well find something to sit down on." 
Beldin brought him a cup of beer, then went back to the corner where 
the barrel was and filled three more cups. 
"That is really an ugly fellow," Senji noted, hauling himself up and 
sitting on top of the table. "I sort of like him, though. I haven't 
met anybody quite like that for almost a thousand years." 
Belgarath and Garion exchanged a quick look. "That's quite a long 
time," Belgarath said cautiously. 
"Yes," Senji agreed, taking a drink from his cup. He made a face. 
"It's gone fiat again," he said. "You there," he called to Beldin. 
"There's an earthenware jar on the shelf just above the barrel. Be a 
good fellow and dump a couple handfuls of that powder into the beer. 
It wakes it up again.'' He looked back at Betgarath. "What was it you 
wanted to talk about?" he asked. "What's so important that you have 
to go around blowing doors apart?" 
"In a minute," Belgarath said. He crossed to where the little 
clubfoot sat. "Do you mind?" he asked. He reached out and lightly 
touched his fingertips to the smelly man's bald head. 
"Well?" Beldin asked. 
Belgarath nodded. "He doesn't use it very often, but it's there. 
Garion, fix the door. I think we'll want to talk in private.'' 
Garion looked helplessly at the shattered remains of the door. "It's 
not in very good shape, Grandfather," he said dubiously. 
"Make a new one then." 
"Oh. I guess I forgot about that." 
"You need some practice anyway. Just make sure that 

•{you can get it open later. I don't want to have to blow it 
f,down again when the time comes to leave." 

f Garion gathered in his will, concentrated a moment, 

•pointed at the empty opening, and said, "Door." The opening was 
immediately filled again. 
"Door?" Beldin said incredulously. 
"He does that sometimes," Belgarath said. "I've been trying to break 
him of the habit, but he backslides from time to time.'' 
• Senji's eyes were narrow as he looked at them. "Well, Inow," he
said. "I seem to have some talented guests. I haven't met a real 
sorcerer in a long, long time." "How long?" Belgarath asked bluntly. 
"Oh, a dozen centuries or so, I guess. A Grolim was here giving
lectures in the College of Comparative Theology. Stuffy sort of
fellow, as I recall, but then, most Grolims :are." 
•' "All right, Senji," Belgarath said, "just how old are you?" 
"I think I was born during the fifteenth century," Senji replied.
"What year is it now?" 
'Fifty-three seventy-nine," Garion told him. 'Already?" Senji said
mildly. "Where does the time go?" He counted it up on his fingers. 
"I guess that would make me about thirty-nine hundred or so." 
"When did you find out about the Will and the Word?" JBelgarath
pressed. | "The what?" |r "Sorcery." 
|-"Is that what you call it?" Senji pondered a bit. "I sup-\pose 
the term is sort of accurate, at that," he mused. "I Hke that. The
Will and the Word. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
'When did you make the discovery?" Belgarath repeated. 
"During the fifteenth century, obviously. Otherwise I'd died in the 
normal course of time, like everybody 
'You didn't have any instruction?" 
124
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
125
"Who was around in the fifteenth century to instruct me? I just 
stumbled over it." 
Belgarath and Beldin looked at each other. Then Belgar-ath sighed and
covered his eyes with one hand. 
"It happens once in a while," Beldin said. "Some people just fall 
into it." 
"I know, but it's so discouraging. Look at all the centuries our 
Master took instructing us, and this fellow just picks it up on his 
own." He looked back at Senji. "Why don't you tell us about it?" he
suggested. "Try not to leave too much out." 
"Do we really have time, Grandfather?" Garion asked.
"We have to make time," Beldin told him. "It was one of our Master's 
final commandments. Any time we come across somebody who's picked up 
the secret spontaneously, we're supposed to investigate. Not even the 
Gods know how it happens." 

Senji slid down from the table and limped over to an overflowing 
bookcase. He rummaged around for a moment and finally selected a book 
that looked much the worse for wear. "Sorry about the shape it's 
in," he apologized. "It's been blown up a few times." He limped back 
to the table and opened the book. "I wrote this during the twentythird 
century," he said. "I noticed that I was starting to get a 
little absentminded, so I wanted to get it all down while it was 
still fresh in my memory.'' 
"Makes sense," Beldin said. "My grim-faced friend over there has been 
suffering from some shocking lapses of memory lately—of course, 
that's to be expected from somebody who's nineteen thousand years 
old." 
"Do you mind?" Belgarath said acidly. 
"You mean it's been longer?" 
"Shut up, Beldin." 
"Here we are," Senji said. Then he began to read aloud. " 'For the 
next fourteen hundred years the Melcene Empire prospered, far removed 
from the theological and political squabbles of the western part of 
the continent. Melcene culture was secular, civilized, and highly 
educated. Slavery was unknown, and trade with the Angaraks and their 
subject peoples in Karanda and Dalasia was extremely profitable. 
The old imperial capital at Melcena became a major center of 
learning.' " 
"Excuse me," Belgarath said, "but isn't that taken directly from 
Emperors of Melcena and Malloreal" 
, "Naturally," Senji replied without any embarrassment. 
"Plagiarism is the first rule of scholarship. Please don't 
interrupt." 
"Sorry," Belgarath said. 
" 'Unfortunately,' " Senji read on, " 'some of the thrust of Melcene 
scholarship turned toward the arcane. Their major field of 
concentration lay in the field of alchemy.' " He 
itooked at Belgarath. "This is where it gets original," he 
^said. He cleared his throat. " 'It was a Melcene alchemist, 
"Senji the clubfooted, who inadvertently utilized sorcery during the 
course of one of his experiments.' " 
"You speak of yourself in the third person?" Beldin asked. 
t "It was a twenty-third-century affectation," Senji replied. 
"Autobiography was considered to be in terribly bad taste—immodest, 
don't you know. It was a very boring century. I yawned all the way 
through it." He went back to reading. " 'Senji, a fifteenth-century 
practitioner of alchemy at the university in the imperial city, was 
notorious for his ineptitude.' " He paused. "I might want to edit 
that part just a bit," he noted critically. He glanced at the next 
Une. "And this just won't do at all," he added. " 'To be quite frank 
about it,* " he read with distaste, " 'Senji's experiments more often 


turned gold into lead than the reverse. In a fit of colossal 
frustration at the failure of his 

•most recent experiment, Senji accidentally converted a half ton of 
brass plumbing into solid gold. An immediate debate arose, involving 
the Bureau of Currency, the Bureau of 
('Mines, the Department of Sanitation, the faculty of the College of 
Applied Alchemy and the faculty of the College of Comparative 
Theology about which organization should have control of Senji's 
discovery. After about three hundred years of argumentation, it 
suddenly occurred to the dispufjlants 
that Senji was not merely talented, but also appeared "to be 
immortal. In the name of scientific experimentation, the varying 
bureaus, departments, and faculties agreed that 
126 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
127 
an effort should be made to have him assassinated to verify that 
fact.' " 
"They didn't!" Beldin said. 
"Oh, yes," Senji replied with a grim smugness. "Mel-cenes are 
inquisitive to the point of idiocy. They'll go to any lengths to 
prove a theory.' * 
"What did you do?" 
Senji smirked so hard that his long nose and pointed chin almost 
touched. " 'A well-known defenestrator was retained to throw the 
irascible old alchemist from a high window in one of the towers of 
the university administration building,' " he read. " "The experiment 
had a threefold purpose. What the curious bureaus wished to find out 
was: (A) if Senji was in fact unkillable, (B) what means he would 
take to save his life while plummeting toward the paved courtyard, 
and (C) if it might be possible to discover the secret of flight by 
giving him no other alternative.' " The clubfooted alchemist tapped 
the back of his hand against the text. "I've always been a little 
proud of that sentence," he said. "It's so beautifully balanced." 
"It's a masterpiece," Beldin approved, slapping the little man on the 
shoulder so hard that it nearly knocked him off the table. "Here," he 
said, taking Senji's cup, "let me refill that for you." His brow 
creased, there was a surge, and the cup was full again. Senji took a 
sip and fell to gasping. 
"It's a drink that a Nadrak woman of my acquaintance brews," Beldin 
told him. "Robust, isn't it?" 
"Very," Senji agreed in a hoarse voice. 
"Go on with your story, my friend." 
Senji cleared his throat—several times—and went on. " 'What the 
officials and learned men actually found out as a result of their 

experiment was that it is extremely dangerous to threaten the life of 
a sorcerer—even one as inept as Senji. The defenestrator found 
himself suddenly translocated to a position some fifteen hundred 
meters above the harbor, five miles distant. At one instant he had 
been wrestling Senji toward the window; at the next, he found himself 
standing on insubstantial air high above a fishing fleet. His demise 
occasioned no particular sorrow—except among the fishermen, whose 
nets were badly damaged by his rapid descent.' " 
"That was a masterful passage," Beldin chortled, "but where did you 
discover the meaning of the word 'translo-cation'?" 
"I was reading an old text on the exploits of Belgarath the Sorcerer, 
and I—" Senji stopped, going very pale, turned, and gaped at Garion's 
grandfather. 
"It's a terrible letdown, isn't it?" Beldin said. "We always told him 
he ought to try to look more impressive." 
"You're in no position to talk," the old man said. 
"You're the one with the earthshaking reputation." Beldin shrugged. 
"I'm just a flunky. I'm along for comic relief." 
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you, Beldin?" 
"I haven't had so much fun in years. Wait until I tell Pol." 
"You keep your mouth shut, you hear me?" 
"Yes, O mighty Belgarath," Beldin said mockingly. 
Belgarath turned to Garion. "Now you understand why Silk irritates me 
so much," he said. 
"Yes, Grandfather, I think I do." 
Senji was still a little wild-eyed. 
"Take another drink, Senji," Beldin advised. "It's not nearly so hard 
to accept when your wits are half-fuddled." 
Senji began to tremble. Then he drained his cup in one gulp without 
so much as a cough. 
"Now there's a brave lad," Beldin congratulated him. "Please read on. 
Your story is fascinating." 
Falteringly, the little alchemist continued. " 'In an out-borst of 
righteous indignation, Senji then proceeded to chastise the 
department heads who had consorted to do violence to his person. It 
was finally only a personal appeal from the emperor himself that 
persuaded the old man to desist from some fairly exotic punishments. 
After that, the department heads were more than happy to allow Senji 
to go his own way unmolested. 
'On his own, Senji established a private academy and srtised for 
students. While his pupils never became sor-srs of the magnitude of 
Belgarath, Polgara, Ctuchik, or some of them were, nonetheless, able 
to perform rudimentary applications of the principle their master 
inadvertently discovered. This immediately elevated 
128 SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
them far above the magicians and witches practicing their art forms 


within the confines of the university.' " Senji looked up. "There's 
more," he said, "but most of it deals with my experiments in the 
field of alchemy." 
"I think that's the crucial part," Belgarath said. "Let's go back a 
bit. What were you feeling at the exact moment that you changed all 
that brass into gold?" 
"Irritation," Senji shrugged, closing his book. "Or maybe more than 
that. I'd worked out my calculations so very carefully, but the bar 
of lead I was working on just lay there not doing anything. I was 
infuriated. Then I just son of pulled everything around me inside, 
and I could feel an enormous power building up. I shouted 
'Change!'—mostly at the lead bar, but there were some pipes running 
through the room as well, and my concentration was a little 
diffused." 
"You're lucky you didn't change the walls, too," Beldin told him. 
"Were you ever able to do it again?" 
Senji shook his head. "I tried, but I never seemed to be able to put 
together that kind of anger again." 
"Are you always angry when you do this sort of thing?" the hunchback 
asked. 
"Almost always," Senji admitted. "If I'm not angry, I can't be 
certain of the results. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't." 
"That seems to be the key to it, Belgarath," Beldin said. "Rage is 
the common element in every case weVe come across." 
"As I remember, / was irritated the first time I did it as well," 
Belgarath conceded. 
"So was I," Beldin said. "With you, I think." 
"Why did you take it out on that tree, then?" 
"At the last second I remembered that our Master was fond of you, and 
I didn't want to hurt his feelings by obliterating you." 
"That probably saved your life. If you'd said 'be not,' you wouldn't 
be here now." 
Beldin scratched at his stomach. "That might explain why we find so 
few cases of spontaneous sorcery," he mused. "When somebody's enraged 
at something, his first impulse is usually to destroy it. This might 
have happened many, 
DAVID EDDINGS 
129 
many times, but the spontaneous sorcerers probably annihilated 
themselves in the moment of discovery." 
"I wouldn't be at all surprised that youVe hit it," Belgarath agreed. 
Senji had gone pale again. "I think there's something I need to know 
here," he said. 
"It's the first rule," Garion told him. "The universe won't let us 
unmake things. If we try, all the force turns inward, and we're the 
ones who vanish." With a shudder he remembered the obliteration of 


Ctuchik. He looked at Beldin. "Did I get that right?" he asked. 
"Fairly close. The explanation is a little more complex, but you 
described the process pretty accurately." 
"Did that by any chance happen to any of your students?" Belgarath 
asked Senji. 
The alchemist frowned. "It might have," he admitted. "Quite a few of 
them disappeared. I thought they'd just gone off someplace, but maybe 
not." 
"Are you taking any more students these days?" 
Senji shook his head. "I don't have the patience for it any more. 
Only about one in ten could even grasp the concept, and the rest 
stood around whining and sniveling and blaming me for not explaining 
it any better. I went back to alchemy. I almost never use sorcery any 
more." 
"We were told that you can actually do it," Garion said. "Turn brass 
or lead into gold, I mean." 
"Oh, yes," Senji replied in an offhand way. "It's really fairly easy, 
but the process is more expensive than the gold is worth. That's what 
I'm trying to do now—simplify the process and substitute less 
expensive chemicals. I can't get anyone to fund my experiments, 
though." 
Garion felt a sudden throbbing against his hip. Puzzled, he looked 
down at the pouch in which he was carrying the Orb. There was a sound 
in his ears, an angry sort of buzz that was unlike the shimmering 
sound the Orb usually made. 
"What's that peculiar sound?" Senji asked. 
Garion untied the pouch from his belt and opened it. The ;Orb was 
glowing an angry red. 
"Zandramas?" Belgarath asked intently. 
Garion shook his head. "No, Grandfather. I don't think so." 
130 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
131 
"Does it want to take you someplace?" "It's pulling." 
"Let's see where it wants to go." Garion held the Orb out in his 
right hand and it drew him steadily toward the door. They went out 
into the corridor with Senji limping along behind them, his face 
afire with curiosity. The Orb led them down the stairs and out the 
front door of the building. 
"It seems to want to go toward that building over there," Garion 
said, pointing toward a soaring tower of pure white marble. 
"The College of Comparative Theology," Senji sniffed. "They're a 
sorry group of scholars with an inflated notion of their contribution 
to the sum of human knowledge." "Follow it, Garion," Belgarath 
instructed. They crossed the lawn. Startled scholars scattered before 


them like frightened birds after one look at Belgarath's face. 
They entered the ground floor of the tower. A thin man in 
ecclesiastical robes sat at a high desk just inside the door. "You're 
not members of this college," he said in an outraged voice. "You 
can't come in here." 
Without even slowing his pace, Belgarath translocated the officious 
doorman some distance out onto the lawn, desk 
and all. 
"It does have its uses, doesn't it?" Senji conceded. "Maybe I should 
give it a little more study. Alchemy's beginning to bore me." 
"What's behind this door?" Garion asked, pointing. 
"That's their museum." Senji shrugged. "It's a hodgepodge of old 
idols, religious artifacts, and that sort of thing." 
Garion tried the handle. "It's locked." 
Beldin leaned back and kicked the door open, splintering the wood 
around the lock. 
"Why did you do that?" Belgarath asked him. 
"Why not?" Beldin shrugged. "I'm not going to waste the effort of 
pulling in my will for an ordinary door." 
"You're getting lazy." 
"I'll put it back together, and you can open it." 
"Never mind." 
They went into the dusty, cluttered room. There were rows of glass 
display cases in the center, and the walls were lined with grotesque 
statues. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and dust lay everywhere. 
"They don't come in here very often," Senji noted. "They'd rather 
cook up addlepated theories than look at the real effects of human 
religious impulses." 
"This way," Garion said as the Orb continued to pull steadily at his 
hand. He noticed that the stone was glowing redder and redder, and it 
was getting uncomfortably warm. 
Then it stopped before a glass case where a rotting cushion lay 
behind the dusty panes. Aside from the cushion, the case was empty. 
The Orb was actually hot now, and its ruddy glow filled the entire 
room. 
"What was in this case?" Belgarath demanded. 
Senji leaned forward to read the inscription on the corroded brass 
plate attached to the case. "Oh," he said, "now I remember. This is 
the case where they used to keep Cthrag Sardius—before it was 
stolen.' 
Suddenly, without any warning, the Orb seemed to jump in Garion's 
hand, and the glass case standing empty before them exploded into a 
thousand fragments. 
DAVID EDDINGS 

CHAPTER EIGHT 


"How long was it here?" Belgarath asked the shaken Senji, who was 
gaping in awe first at the stilt sullenly glowing Orb in Garion's 
hand, then at the shattered remains of the case. 
"Senji," Belgarath said sharply, "pay attention." 
"Is that what I think it is?" the alchemist asked, pointing at the 
Orb with a trembling hand. 
"Cthrag Yaska," Beldin told him. "If you're going to play this game, 
you may as well learn what's involved. Now answer my brother's 
question." 
Senji floundered. "I'm not—" he began. "IVe always been just an 
alchemist. I'm not interested in—" 
"It doesn't work that way," Belgarath cut him off. "Like it or not, 
you're a member of a very select group. Stop 
132 
thinking about gold and other nonsense, and start paying attention to 
what's important." 
Senji swallowed hard. "It was always just a kind of game," he 
quavered. "Nobody ever took me seriously." 
"We do," Garion told him, holding out the Orb to the now-cringing 
little man. "Do you have any idea of the kind of power youVe stumbled 
over?" He was suddenly enormously angry. "Would you like to have me 
blow down this tower—or sink the Melcene Islands back into the 
sea—just to show you how serious we are?" 'You're Belgarion, aren't 
you?" 'Yes." 
'The Godslayer?" 'Some people call me that." 'Oh, my God," Senji 
whimpered. 'We're wasting time," Belgarath said flatly. "Start 
talking. I want to know just where Cthrag Sardius came from, how long 
it was here, and where it went from here." "It's a long story," Senji 
said. 
"Abbreviate it," Beldin totd him, kicking aside the glass shards on 
the floor. "We're a little pressed for time right now." 
"How long was the Sardion here?" Belgarath asked. "Eons," Senji 
replied. "Where did it come from?" 
"Zamad," the alchemist responded. "The people up there are K a rands, 
but they're a little timid about demons. I think a few of their 
magicians were eaten alive. Anyway— ;pr so the legends say—at about 
the time of the cracking of £he world some five thousand years or so 
ago . . ."he fal-Jered again, staring at the two dreadful old men 
facing him. l "It was noisy," Beldin supplied distastefully. "A lot 
of Ipteam and earthquakes. Torak was always ostentatious— some kind 
of character defect, I think." "Oh, my God," Senji said again. "Don't 
keep saying that," Belgarath told him in a dis-sted tone. "You don't 
even know who your God is." "But you will, Senji," Garion said in a 
voice that was his own, "and once you have met Him, you will follow 
all the days of your life." Belgarath looked at Garion with one 
raised eyebrow. 


134 SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
Garion spread his hands helplessly. "Get on with this, Belgarath," 
the voice said through Garion's lips. "Time isn't waiting for you, 
you know." 
Belgarath turned back to Senji. "All right," he said. "The Sardion 
came to Zamad. How?" "It's said to have fallen out of the sky." "They 
always do," Beldin said. "Someday I'd like to see something rise up 
out of the earth—just for the sake of variety. '' 
"You get bored too easily, my brother," Belgarath told him. 
"I didn't see you sitting over Burnt-face's tomb for five hundred 
years, my brother," Beldin retorted. 
"I don't think I can stand this," Senji said, burying his face in his 
trembling hands. 
"It gets easier as you go along," Garion said in a comforting tone. 
"We're not really here to make your life unpleasant. All we need is a 
little information and then we'll go away. If you think about it in 
the right way, you might even be able to make yourself believe that 
this is all a dream." 
"I'm in the presence of three demigods, and you want me to pass it 
off as a dream?" 
"That's a nice term," Beldin said. "Demigod. I like the sound of it." 
"You're easily impressed by words," Belgarath told him. "Words are 
the core of thought. Without words there is no thought." 
Senji's eyes brightened. "Now, we might want to talk about that a 
little bit," he suggested. 
"Later," Belgarath said. "Get back to Zamad—and the Sardion." 
"All right," the clubfooted little alchemist said. "Cthrag Sardius—or 
the Sardion, whatever you want to call it—came out of the sky into 
Zamad. The barbarians up there thought that it was holy and built a 
shrine to it and fell down on their faces and worshiped it. The 
shrine was in a valley up in the mountains, and there was a grotto 
and an altar and that sort of thing." 
"We've been there," Belgarath said shortly. "It's at the bottom of a 
lake now. How did it get to Melcena?" 
DAVID EDDINGS 
135 
"That came years later," Senji replied. "The Karands have always been 
a troublesome people, and their social organization is fairly 
rudimentary. About three thousand years ago—or maybe a little 
longer—a King of Zamad began to feel ambitious, so he assimilated 
Voresebo and started looking hungrily south. There were a series of 
raids in force across the border into Rengel. Of course, Rengel was a 
part of the Melcene Empire, and the emperor decided that it was time 
to teach the Karands a lesson. He mounted a punitive expedition and 
marched into Voresebo and then Zamad at die head of a column of 
elephant cavalry. The Karands had never seen an elephant before and 


they fled in panic. The emperor systematically destroyed all the 
towns and villages up there. He heard about the holy object and its 
shrine and he went there and took Cthrag Sardius—more I think to 
punish the Karands than out of any desire to possess the stone for 
himself. It's not really very attractive, you know." 
"What does it look like?" Garion asked him. 
"It's fairly large," Senji said. "It's sort of oval-shaped and about 
so big." He indicated an object about two feet in diameter with his 
hands. "It's a strange reddish sort of color, and kind of milkylooking 
—like certain kinds of flint. Anyway, as I said, the emperor 
didn't really want the thing, so when he got back to Melcena, he 
donated it to the univer-sity. It was passed around from department 
to department, 'and it finally ended up here in this museum. It lay 
in that case for thousands of years, collecting dust, and nobody 
really paid any attention to it." 
"How did it leave here?" Belgarath asked. 
"I was just getting to that. About five hundred years ago ere was a 
scholar in the College of Arcane Learning. He a strange sort who 
heard voices. At any rate, he became ^absolutely obsessed with Cthrag 
Sardius. He used to sneak in here at night and sit for hours staring 
at it. I think he [ffbelieved that it was talking to him." 
'It's possible," Beldin said. "It could probably do that." 
This scholar grew more and more irrational and he fily 
came in here one night and stole Cthrag Sardius. I m't think 
anyone would have noticed that it was missing, the scholar fled the 
island as if all the legions of Mel-were on his heels. He took ship 
and sailed south. His 
136 SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
ship was last seen near the southern tip of Gandahar, and it seemed 
to be bound in the direction of the Dalasian Protectorates. The ship 
never came back, so it was generally assumed that she went down in a 
storm somewhere in those waters. That's all I really know about it." 
Beldin scratched reflectively at his stomach. "It sort of fits 
together, Belgarath. The Sard ion has the same kind of power that the 
Orb has. I'd say that it's been taking conscious steps to move itself 
from place to place—probably in response to certain events. It's my 
guess that if we pinned it down, we'd find that this Melcene emperor 
took it out of Zamad at just about the time that you and Bearshoulders 
went to Cthol Mishrak to steal back the Orb. Then that 
scholar Senji mentioned stole it from here at just about the time of 
the Battle of Vo Mimbre." 
"You speak as if it were alive," Senji objected. 
"It is," Beldin told him, "and it can control the thoughts of people 
around it. Obviously it can't get up and walk by itself, so it has 
men do the picking and carrying." 
"It's pretty speculative, Beldin," Belgarath said. 


"That's what I do best. Shall we move along? We've got a boat to
catch, you know. We can sort all this out later." 
Belgarath nodded and looked at Senji. "We've been advised that you 
might be able to help us," he said. 
"I can try." 
"Good. Someone told us that you might be able to put your hands on an 
uncut copy of the Ashabine Oracles." 
"Who said so?" Senji asked warily. 
"A Dalasian seeress named Cyradis." 
"Nobody believes anything the seers say," Senji scoffed. 
"I do. In seven thousand years, I've never known a seer to be 
wrong—cryptic, sometimes, but never wrong." 
Senji backed away from him. 
"Don't be coy, Senji," Beldin told him. "Do you know where we can
find a copy of the Oracles?" 
"There used to be one in the library of this college," the alchemist 
replied evasively. 
"Used to be?" 
Senji looked around nervously. Then he lowered his voice to a 
whisper. "I stole it," he confessed. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
137
"Does it have any passages cut out of it?" Belgarath asked intently. 
"Not that I could see, no." 
Belgarath let his breath out explosively. "Well, finally," be said. 
"I think we just beat Zandramas at her own game." 
"You're going up against Zandramas?" Senji asked incredulously.
"Just as soon as we can catch up with her," Beldin told him.
"She's terribly dangerous, you know." 
"So are we," Belgarath said. "Where's this book you stole?" 
"It's hidden in my laboratory. The university officials are very
narrow about people from one department pilfering from other people's 
libraries." 
"Officials are always narrow." Beldin shrugged. "It's one of the 
qualifications for the job. Let's go back to your laboratory. My
ancient friend here has to read that book." 
Senji limped toward the door and back out into the hallway again. 
The thin man in ecclesiastical robes had somehow managed to get his 
desk back where it belonged and he sat at it again. Garion noticed 
that his eyes were a little wild. 
"We'll be leaving now," Belgarath told him. "Any objections?" 
The thin man shrank back. 
"Wise decision," Beldin said.
It was late afternoon by now, and the autumn sun streamed down on the 
well-maintained lawn. 
"I wonder if the others have traced down Naradas yet," Garion said as 



they walked back toward the College of Applied Alchemy.
"More than likely," Belgarath replied. "Silk's people are very 
efficient." 
They entered the reinforced building again to find the halls full of 
smoke and several more splintered doors lying in the corridor. 
Senji sniffed at the smoke. "They're putting in too much sulfur," he
noted professionally. -• "A fellow we ran into was saying exactly 
the same
138
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
139
," Garion told him. "It was right after he blew himself 
up, I think."
"I've told them over and over again," Senji said. "A little sulfur is
necessary, but put in too much and—poof!' * 
' 'It looks as if there's been a fair amount of pooling going on in
here," Beldin said, fanning at the smokey air in front of his face 
with one hand. 
"That happens frequently when you're an alchemist," Senji replied. 
"You get used to it." He laughed. "And you never know what's going to
happen. One idiot actually turned glass into steel."
Belgarath stopped. "He did what?"
' 'He turned glass into steel—or something very much like it. It was 
still transparent, but it wouldn't bend, break, or splinter. It was 
the hardest stuff IVe ever seen."
Belgarath smacked his palm against his forehead. 
"Steady," Beldin told him. Then he turned to Senji. "Does this fellow
happen to remember the process?" 
"I doubt it. He burned all his notes and men went into a monastery.'' 
Belgarath was making strangling noises. 
"Do you have any idea what a process like that would be worth?" 
Beldin asked Senji. "Glass is just about the cheapest stuff in the
world—it's only melted sand, after all—and you can mold it into any 
shape you want. That particular process might just have been worth 
more than all the gold in the world." 
Senji blinked. 
"Never mind," Beldin said to him. "You're a pure scholar, remember? 
You're not interested in money, are you?" 
Senji's hands began to shake. 
They climbed the stairs and reentered Senji's cluttered laboratory. 
The alchemist closed and locked the door, then limped to a large 
cabinet near the window. Grunting, he moved it out from the wall a 
few inches, knelt, and reached behind it. 
The book was not thick and it was bound in black leather. Belgarath's 
hands were shaking as he carried it to a table, sat, and opened it. 



"I couldn't really make very much out of it," Senji confessed 
to Beldin. "I think whoever wrote it might have been insane." 
"He was," the hunchback replied. 
"You know who he was?" 
Beldin nodded. "Torak," he said shortly. 
"Torak's just a myth—something the Angaraks dreamed up." 
"Tell that to him," Beldin said, pointing at Garion. 
Senji swallowed hard, staring at Garion. "Did you really—I mean—?" 
"Yes," Garion answered sadly. Oddly enough, he found that he still 
regretted what had happened at Cthol Mishrak over a dozen years ago. 
"It's uncut!" Belgarath exclaimed triumphantly. "Somebody copied from 
the original before Torak had time to mutilate it. The missing 
passages are all here. Listen to this: 'And it shall come to pass 
that the Child of Light and the Child of Dark shall meet in the City 
of Endless Night. But that is not the place of the final meeting, for 
the choice will not be made there, and the Spirit of Dark shall flee. 
Know, moreover, that a new Child of Dark shall arise in the east.' '' 
"Why would Torak cut that passage?" Garion asked, puzzled. 
"The implications of it aren't good—at least not for him," Belgarath 
replied. "The fact that there was going to be a new Child of Dark 
hints rather strongly that he wouldn't survive the meeting at Cthol 
Mishrak." 
"Not only that," Beldin added, "even if he did survive, be was going 
to be demoted. That might have been just a little hard for him to 
swallow." 
Belgarath quickly leafed through several pages. 
"Are you sure you're not missing things?" Beldin asked him. 
"I know what that copy at Ashaba said, Beldin. I have a very good 
memory." 
"Really?" Beldin's tone was sardonic. 
"Just let it lie." Belgarath read another passage rapidly. **I can 
see why he cut this one," he said. " 'Behold, the stone which holds 
the power of the Dark Spirit will not reveal itself to that Child of 
Dark who shall come to the City of Endless Night, but will yield 
instead only to Him 
140 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
141 
who is yet to come.' " He scratched at his beard. "If I'm reading 
this right, the Sardion concealed itself from Tbrak because he wasn't 
intended to be the ultimate instrument of the Dark Prophecy." 
"I imagine that hurt his ego just a little." Beldin laughed. 
But Belgarath had already moved on. His eyes suddenly widened, and 
his face paled slightly. " 'For lo,' " he read, " 'only one who hath 
put his hand to Cthrag Yaska shall be permitted to touch Cthrag 


Sardius. And in the moment of that touch, all that he is or might 
have become shall be sacrificed, and he shall become the Vessel of 
the Spirit of Dark. Seek ye, therefore, the son of the Child of 
Light, for he shall be our champion in the Place Which Is No More. 
And should he be chosen, he shall rise above all others and shall 
bestride die world with Cthrag Yaska in one hand and Cthrag Sardius 
in the other, and thus shall all that was divided be made one again, 
and he will have lordship and dominion over all things until the end 
of days.1 " 
Garion was thunderstruck. "'So that's what they mean by the word 
'sacrifice'!" he exclaimed. "Zandramas isn't going to kill Geran." 
"No," Belgarath said darkly. "She's going to do something worse. 
She's going to turn him into another Tbrak." 
"It goes a little further than that, Belgarath," Beldin growled. "The 
Orb rejected Torak—and burned off half his face in the process. The 
Sardion didn't even let Torak know that it was around. But the Orb 
will accept Geran, and so will the Sardion. If he gets his hands on 
both those stones, he'll have absolute power. Torak was a baby 
compared to what he'll be." He looked somberly at Garion. "That's why 
Cyradis told you at Rheon that you might have to kill your son." 
"That's unthinkable!" Garion retorted hotly. 
"Maybe you'd better start thinking about it. Geran won't be your son 
any more. Once he touches the Sardion, he'll be something totally 
evil—and he'll be a God." 
Bleakly, Belgarath read on. "Here's something," he said. " 'And the 
Child of Dark who shall bear the champion to the place of choosing 
shall be possessed utterly by the Dark Spirit, and her flesh shall be 
but a husk, and all the starry universe shall be contained therein.' 
" 
"What does that mean?" Garion asked. 
"I'm not sure," Belgarath admitted. He leafed through a couple more 
pages. He frowned. " 'And it shall come to pass that she who gave 
birth unto the champion shall reveal unto ye the place of the final 
meeting, but ye must beguile her ere she will speak.' " 
"Ce'Nedra?" Garion asked incredulously. 
"Zandramas has tampered with Ce'Nedra before," Belgarath reminded 
him. "We'll have Pol keep an eye on her." He frowned again. "Why 
would Torak cut out that passage?" he asked with a baffled look. 
"Torak wasn't the only one with a sharp knife, Belgarath," Beldin 
said. "That's a fairly crucial bit of information. I don't think 
Zandramas would have wanted to leave it behind, do you?" 
"That confuses the issue, doesn't it," Belgarath said sourly. "I read 
a book at Ashaba that had two editors. I'm surprised there was 
anything left of it at all." 
"Read on, old man," Beldin said, glancing at the window. "The sun's 
going down." 


"Well, finally," Belgarath said after reading for a moment more. 
"Here it is. 'Behold, the place of the final meeting shall be 
revealed at Kell, for it lies hidden within the pages of the accursed 
book of the seers.' " He thought about it. "Nonsense!" he burst out. 
"I've read parts of the Mallorean Gospels myself, and there are 
dozens of copies scattered all over the world. If this is right, 
anybody could have picked up the location." 
"They're not all the same," Senji murmured. 
"What?" Belgarath exploded. 
"The copies of the Mallorean Gospels aren't all the same," the 
alchemist repeated. "I used to look through all these holy books. 
Sometimes the ancients ran across things that could prove helpful in 
my experiments. I've gathered up a fair library of that sort of 
thing. That's why I stole the .book youVe got in your hands." 
"I suppose you've even got a copy of the Mrin Codex," Beldin said. 
"Two, actually, and they're identical. That's the peculiar |lhing 
about the Mallorean Gospels. I've got three sets, and ao two copies 
are the same." 
142 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
143 
"Oh, fine," Belgarath said. "I knew there was a reason not to trust 
the seers." 
"I think they do it on purpose." Senji shrugged. "After I started 
running across discrepancies, I went to Kell, and the seers there 
told me that there are secrets in the Gospels that are too dangerous 
to have out there for just anyone to read. That's why every copy is 
different. They've all been modified to hide those secrets—except for 
the original, of course. That's always been kept at Kell." 
Beldin and Belgarath exchanged a long look. "All right," Beldin said 
flatly, "we go to Kell." 
"But we're right behind Zandramas," Garion objected. 
"And that's where we'll stay if we don't go to Kell," Beldin told 
him. "Behind her. Going to Kell is the only way we can get ahead of 
her." 
Belgarath had turned to the last page of the Oracles. "I think this 
is a personal message, Garion," he said in an awed sort of voice, 
holding out the book. 
"What?" 
"Torak wants to talk to you." 
"He can talk all he wants. I'm not going to listen to him. I almost 
made that mistake once—when he tried to tell me he was my father, 
remember?" 
"This is a little different. He's not lying this time." 
Garion took hold of the book, and a deathly chill seemed to run up 


through his hands and into his arms. 
"Read it," Belgarath said implacably. 
Compelled—driven, even—Garion lowered his eyes to the spidery script 
on the page before him. " 'Hail, Belga-rion,' " he read aloud in a 
faltering voice. " 'If it should ever come to pass that thine eyes 
fall upon this, then it means that I have fallen beneath thy hand. I 
mourn that not. I will have cast myself into the crucible of destiny, 
and, if I have failed, so he it. Know that I hate thee, Belgarion. 
For hate's sake I will throw myself into the darkness. For hate's 
sake will I spit out my last breath at thee, my damned brother.* " 
Garion's voice failed him. He could actually feel the maimed God's 
towering hatred reaching down to him through the eons. He now 
understood the full import of what had happened in the terrible City 
of Endless Night. 
"Keep reading," Belgarath told him. "There's more." 
"Grandfather, this is more than I can bear." "Read!" Belgarath's 
voice was like the crack of a whip. Helplessly, Garion again lifted 
the book. " 'Know that '; we are brothers, Belgarion, though our hate 
for each other '> may one day sunder the heavens. We are brothers in 
that we share a dreadful task. That thou art reading my words means V 
that thou hast been my destroyer. Thus must I charge thee with the 
task. What is foretold in these pages is an abomination. Do not let 
it come to pass. Destroy the world. Destroy the universe if need be, 
but do not permit this to come 'to pass. In thy hand is now the fate 
of all that was; all that f is; and all that is yet to be. Hail, my 
hated brother, and farewell. We will meet—or have met—in the City of 
Endless Night, and there will our dispute be concluded. The task, 
however, still lies before us in the Place Which Is No More. : One 
of us must go there to face the ultimate horror. Should | it be thou, 
fail us not. Failing all else, thou must reave the Vlife from thine 
only son, even as thou hath reft mine from Kme.' " 
J The book fell from Garion's hands as his knees failed and f: he 
sank to the floor, weeping uncontrollably. He howled a t wolflike 
howl of absolute despair and hammered at the floor •; with both his 
fists and with tears streaming openly down his "face. 
Part Two 
PELDANE 
CHAPTER NINE 
There was a man in a sea coat talking alone with Silk in the second 
floor sitting room when Garion, Belga-;rath, and Beldin returned. The 
man was stocky. He had silver-shot hair and beard and he wore a large 
gold earring : in his left ear. 
'Ah, there you are," Silk said, looking up as the three them entered. 
The rat-faced little man had changed 'clothes and now wore plain 
doublet and hose of a nondescript brown. "This is Captain Kadian. 
He's the one who took our friends to the mainland." He looked back at 


the |jteaman. "Why don't you tell them what you just told me, 
i?" he suggested. 
'If you want me to, your Highness," Kadian agreed. He that rusty sort 
of voice seafaring men often have—the It of bad weather and strong 
drink, Garion surmised. 
147 
148 SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
He took a swallow from the silver tankard he was holding. "Well, 
sir," he began, "it was three days ago when it happened. I'd just 
come up from Bashad in Gandahar. It's down by the mouth of the 
Magan." He made a face. "It's an unhealthy sort of a place—all swamps 
and jungles. Anyhow, I'd carried a cargo of ivory up here for the 
Consortium, and we'd just off-loaded, so I was sort of looking around 
for a cargo. A ship doesn't make any money for her owner when she's 
tied up to a wharf, y'know. I went to a certain tavern I know of. The 
tavern keeper's an old friend of mine—we was shipmates when we was 
younger—and he sort of keeps his ear to the ground for me. Well sir, 
I no sooner got there and set myself down, when my friend, he comes 
over to me and he asks me if I'd be interested in a short, easy 
voyage at a good price. I says to him that I'm always interested in 
that kind of proposition, but that I'd want to know what kind of 
cargo was involved before I made up my mind. There's some things I 
don't like to carry—cattle, for instance. They can dirty up the hold 
of a ship to the point where it takes weeks to get it clean again. 
Well, my friend, he says to me that there wouldn't be no cargo 
involved at all. It was just some people as wanted passage to the 
mainland. I says that it wouldn't hurt none to talk with them, and so 
he takes me into this room in the back of the tavern where four 
people was sitting at a table—two men, a woman, and a little boy. One 
of the men was dressed in expensive clothes—a nobleman of some kind, 
I think—but it was the other one as did all the talking." 
"Was there anything unusual about that one?" Silk prompted. 
"I was just getting to that. He was wearing ordinary clothes, but 
that wasn't what caught my attention. At first I thought he was 
blind—because of his eyes, you understand—but it seems that he can 
see well enough, even though his eyes don't have no color at all. I 
had a ship's cook one time, and one of his eyes was the same way. 
Foul-tempered sort he was, and a real poor excuse for a cook. Well 
sir, this man with the funny eyes, he says that he and his friends 
had to get to Peldane in a hurry, but that they sort of wanted it 
kept quiet that they was going there. Then he asks me if I knows of a 
place outside of die town of Selda where I 
DAVID EDDINGS 
149 
could put them on the beach with no one the wiser, and I says that I 
did." He pulled his nose slyly. "Just about any man as owns a ship 


knows of a few places like thai-customs people being what they are 
an' all. I sort of had my suspicions up by now. People who want to 
end a voyage on a lonely beach someplace are usually up to no good. 
Now, I figure that what a man does is his own concern, but if he gets 
me mixed up in it, it starts being my business real quick. I can get 
into trouble enough on my own without no help from others." He paused 
and took a long drink from his tankard and wiped his mouth with the 
back of his hand. "Like I say, I had my suspicions about these people 
by now and I was just about to tell them that I wasn't really 
interested in the proposition, but then the woman, she says something 
I didn't hear to the one as was doing the talking. She was wearing a 
kind of long cloak or robe of some kind made out of black satin. She 
kept the hood of it up the whole time, so I never saw her face, but 
she was keeping a real tight grip on the little boy. Anyhow, the one 
with the white eyes, he pulls out a purse and spills it out on the 
table, and that purse was full of gold, my friends, more than I'd 
make in a dozen voyages along these coasts. That put a whole new 
light on the situation, let me tell you. Well sir, to make it short, 
we struck the bargain right then and there, and I asks them when they 
wanted to leave, and the fellow as was doing the talking, he says 
they'd come down to my ship just as soon as it gets dark. I saw right 
off that my suspicions wasn't too far off the mark. You don't find 
very many as is honest who want to sail out of a harbor in the dark 
of night, but we'd already struck our bargain, and I had his purse 
tucked under my belt, so it was too late to back out. We sailed that 
very night and got to the coast of Peldane on the next afternoon." 
"Tell them about the fog," Silk said intently. 
"I was just about to, your Highness," Kadian said. "That 
coast down there is sunk in fog almost all spring, and the 
day we got there wasn't no exception. It was thicker than a 
wool cloak, but the people in Selda, they're used to it, so 
[they always lights beacons on the city walls to guide ships 
;into their harbor on foggy days. I took my bearings on those 
^beacons and I didn't have no trouble finding the beach I 
150 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
151 
wanted. We hove to a few hundred yards offshore, and I sent my 
passengers toward the beach in a small boat with my bo'sun in charge. 
We hung a lantern from the mainmast to guide him back through the 
fog, and I put some men to banging on pots and pans to help him And 
the way. Anyhow, after some time passed, we could hear the sound of 
the oarlocks out there in the fog near the beach, and we knowed the 
bo'sun's coming back. And then, all of a sudden, I seen the light of 
a fire coming through the fog all sort of misty, like. I heard some 


screaming, and then everything got quiet. We waited for a bit, but 
the bo'sun, he never came back. I didn't like the smell of things, so 
I ordered the anchor up, and we sort of eased on back out to sea. I 
don't know what happened and I wasn't going to stay around to find 
out. There was things going on that made me real nervous." 
"Oh," Beldin said, "such as what?" 
"Well sir, one time in the main cabin, this woman as the white-eyed 
man and the aristocrat had with them, she reached out to take hold of 
the little boy, him acting kind of restless and all, and I seen her 
hand. Now, it might have been bad light in the cabin or some such—I 
don't spend all that much on lamp oil or candles. But—and strike me 
blind if I "m wrong—it seemed to me that there was sparkles under the 
skin of her hand." 
"Sparkles?" Belgarath asked him. 
"Yes, sir. I seen it with my own eyes, and they was moving—all these 
little tiny sparkles moving around in her flesh, almost like 
fireflies on a summer's evening." 
"As if all the starry universe were contained therein?" Beldin asked 
intently, quoting from the obscure passage in the Ashabine Oracles. 
"Now that you put it that way, that's exactly how it was," Kadian 
agreed. "I knowed right off that these wasn't no ordinary folks and, 
after I seen that fire in the fog, I didn't really want to stay 
around to find out just how un-ordinary they was." 
"That might just have saved your life, Captain," Belgarath told him. 
"Have you ever heard of Zandramas?" 
"The witch? Everybody's heard of her." 
"I think she was your glittering passenger, and Zandramas is a firm 
believer in the old notion that dead people 
can't tell stories. So far as we know, she's drowned three ships and 
fed several people to the lions. I expect it was only the fog that 
saved you. If she'd have been able to see you, you wouldn't be here 
now." 
Captain Kadian swallowed hard. 
"Do you need any more?" Silk asked. 
"No," Belgarath replied. "I think that covers everything." He looked 
at the captain. "We thank you, Kadian. Can you sketch us a map of the 
beach where you dropped off" these passengers of yours?" 
"I can indeed," Kadian replied bleakly. "Is it in your mind to chase 
down the witch?" 
"We were sort of thinking along those lines, yes." 
"When you burn her, throw on a few logs of wood in memory of my 
bo'sun and his oarsmen." 
"You have my word on that, Captain," Garion told him. 
"Green logs," Kadian added. "They don't burn so fast." 
"We'll keep that in mind." 
Silk stood up and handed the captain a leather pouch. 


Kadian bounced it on his palm a few times, and it gave forth a 
jingling sound. "You're very generous, your Highness," he said, also 
rising to his feet. "Is there pen and ink handy? I'll draw you that 
chart." 
"Right over on that table," Silk said, pointing. 
The captain nodded and crossed the room. 
"Where's Aunt Pol," Garion asked, "and the others?" 
"They're changing clothes," Silk replied. "I sent word to our ship 
just as soon as one of Vetter's men came back and told us that they'd 
found Captain Kadian. She's waiting in the harbor for us right now." 
He looked closely at Gar-ion. "Aren't you feeling well?" he asked. 
"You're looking a little pale." 
"I got a message that had some bad news in it." 
Silk gave Belgarath a puzzled look. 
"We found the Ashabine Oracles," the old man explained tersely. 
"Torak left a message for Garion on the last page. It wasn't very 
pleasant. We can talk about it once we get on board ship." 
Captain Kadian came back holding a sheet of parchment. 
I "This is Selda," he said, pointing at his drawing. "There's 
a headland to the south, and the beach I was telling you 
152 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
153 
about is just south of that. I can't tell you exactly where the witch 
landed because of the fog, but this place marked with the X should be 
fairly close." 
"Thanks again, Captain," Silk said. "My pleasure, your Highness, and 
good hunting." Ka-dian turned and left the room with the rolling gait 
of a man who spends little time on shore. 
It was only a few moments later when Polgara and the others joined 
them. Ce'Nedra and Velvet were both wearing plain gray dresses much 
like the one Polgara always wore when she was traveling. Gray, Garion 
noticed, was not a good color for Ce'Nedra. It made her skin look 
very pale, and the only touch of color about her was her flaming 
wealth of copper-colored hair. 
Durnik and the other men—except for Toth, who still wore only his 
unbleached blanket and loincloth—were dressed in the same nondescript 
brown that Silk wore. 
"Well, father?" Polgara asked as she entered, "did you find what we 
wanted?" 
He nodded. "Why don't we talk about that after we get on board ship, 
though? We've done what we came to do in Melcena and we can talk 
while our ship's moving." He led the way out and down the stairs. 
It was a silvery evening. The full moon had risen early and it filled 
the streets of Melcena with its pale light. Candles glowed golden in 


the windows of the houses they passed, and hundreds of lanterns 
winked from the rigging of the ships anchored in the harbor. Garion 
rode in silence, his melancholy thoughts still on the dreadful 
communication Torak had left for him thousands of years ago. 
They boarded their ship quickly and went immediately below to the 
cramped cabin beneath the aft deck. 
"AH right," Belgarath said to them after Durnik had closed the door, 
"we found the Oracles and we also found the place where the Sardion 
was kept until just about the time of the battle of Vo Mimbre." 
"That was a profitable trip, wasn't it?" Silk noted. "Is Senji really 
as old as they say?" 
Betdin grunted. "Older." 
"Wouldn't that mean that he's a sorcerer?" Ce'Nedra asked. Perhaps it 
was the somber gray dress, but she seemed 
I a bit disconsolate as she sat on an ornately carved bench I under a 
swinging oil lamp. 
Belgarath nodded. "He's not very good at it, but he does 
the ability, yes." 
"Who was his instructor?" Polgara wanted to know. She fiat down 
beside Ce'Nedra and laid one arm affectionately facross the little 
queen's shoulders. 
"Nobody," Belgarath said with a certain disgust. "Would you believe 
that he just stumbled over it on his own?" "Did you look into that?" 
"Yes. Beldin's got a theory. He can explain it to you ;r. At any 
rate, the Sardion was brought to the university ;here several 
thousand years ago. They kept it in a museum, don't think anybody 
knew what it really was. Then, about five hundred years ago, one of 
the scholars stole it and took |jt around the southern tip of 
Gandahar and sailed off in the leral direction of the Dalasian 
Protectorates. Nobody lows for sure what happened to it after that. 
Anyway, Senji 
an unmutilated copy of the Ashabine Oracles." "What did it say?" 
Velvet asked intently. "A great deal. We found out why Zandramas 
abducted iGeran." 
"As a sacrifice?" she said. 
"Only in an obscure sense of the word. If the Dark )phecy wins out, 
Geran is going to be the new God of igarak." 
'My baby?" Ce'Nedra exclaimed. 'He won't be your baby any more, I'm 
afraid," the old fman told her bleakly. "He'll be Torak." 
'Or worse," Beldin added. "He'll have the Orb in one id and the 
Sardion in the other. He'll have dominion over srything that exists, 
and I don't think he'll be a kindly 1" 
'We have to stop her!" Ce'Nedra cried. "We can't let this happen!" 
'I think that's the general idea, your Majesty," Sadi told 
| "What else did it say, father?" Polgara asked. "It said something 
about Zandramas that's a little ob-ire. For some reason her body's 


being gradually taken by some kind of light. The sea captain who 
carried her 
154 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
155 
to Selda caught a glimpse of her hand and he said that there are 
moving lights under her skin. The Oracles said it was going to 
happen." 
"What does it mean?" Durnik asked. 
"I haven't got the faintest idea," Belgarath admitted. He looked at 
Garion and moved his fingers slightly. —/ don't think we need to tell 
Ce'Nedra what the book said about her, do you?— 
Garion shook his head. 
"Anyway, we're going to have to go to Kell." 
"Kell?" Polgara's voice was startled. "What for?" 
"The location of the place we're looking for is in the copy of the 
Mallorean Gospels the seers keep there. If we go to Kell, we can get 
to this meeting place before Zandra-mas does." 
"That might be a nice change," Silk said. "I'm getting a little tired 
of tagging along behind her." 
"But we'll lose the trail," Ce'Nedra protested. 
"Little girl," Beldin said to her gruffly, "if we know where 
Zandramas is going, we won't need the trail. We can just go directly 
to the Place Which Is No More and wait for her to show up." 
Polgara's arm curled more tightly about Ce'Nedra's shoulders in a 
protective fashion. "Be gentle with her, uncle. She was brave enough 
to kiss you at the archduke's house, and I'd imagine that was quite a 
shock to her sensibilities." 
"Very funny, Pol." The ugly hunchback dropped heavily into a chair 
and scratched vigorously at one armpit. 
"Was there anything else, father?" Polgara asked. 
"Torak wrote something to Garion," Belgarath replied. "It was fairly 
bleak, but it appears that even he knew how bad things would get if 
Zandramas succeeds. He told Garion to stop her at all costs." 
"I was going to do that anyway," Garion said quietly. "I didn't need 
any suggestions from Torak." 
"What are we going to be up against in Peldane?" Belgarath asked 
Silk. 
"More of what we ran into in Voresebo and Rengel, I'd imagine." 
"What's the fastest way to get to Kell?" Durnik asked. 
"It's in the Protectorate of Likandia," Silk replied, "and the 
shortest way there is right straight across Peldane and Darshiva and 
then down through the mountains." 
"What about Gandahar?" Sadi asked. "We could avoid all that 
unpleasantness if we sailed south and went through there." Somehow 


Sadi looked peculiar in hose and a belted tunic. Once he had 
discarded his iridescent robe, he seemed more like an ordinary man 
and less like a eunuch. His scalp, however, was freshly shaved. 
Silk shook his head. "It's all jungle down in Gandahar, Sadi," he 
said. "You have to chop your way through." • "Jungles aren't all 
that bad, Kheldar." 
"They are if you're in a hurry." 
"Could you send for those soldiers of yours?" Velvet asked. 
"It's possible, I suppose," Silk answered, "but I'm not sure they'd 
be all that much help. Vetter says that Darshiva's crawling with 
Grolims and Zandramas' troops, and Peldane's been in chaos for years. 
My troops are good, but not that good." He looked at Belgarath. "I'm 
afraid you're going to get more burrs in your fur, old friend." 
"Are we just going to ignore the trail, then," Garion asked, "and 
make straight for Kell?" 
Belgarath tugged at one earlobe. "IVe got a suspicion that the trail 
is going to lead in the general direction of Kell anyway," he said. 
"Zandramas read the Ashabine Oracles, too, you know, and she knows 
that Kelt's the only place where she can get the information she 
needs." 
"Will Cyradis let her look at the Gospels?" Durnik asked. 
"Probably. Cyradis is still neutral and she's not likely to show any 
favoritism." 
Garion rose to his feet. "I think I'll go up on deck, Grandfather," 
he said. "I've got some thinking to do, and sea air helps to clear my 
head." 
The lights of Melcena twinkled low on the horizon behind 
em, and the moon laid a silvery path across the surface of 
e sea. The ship's captain stood at the tiller on the aft deck, 
s hands steady and sure. 
"Isn't it a little hard to know which way you're going at Bight?" 
Garion asked him. 
156 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
157 
"Not at all," the captain replied. He pointed up toward the night 
sky. "Seasons come and go, but the stars never change." 
"Well," Garion said, "we can hope, I guess." Then he walked forward 
to stand in the bow of the ship. 
The night breeze that blew down the strait between Melcena and the 
mainland was erratic, and the sails first bellied and then fell 
slack, their booming sounding like a funeral drum. That sound fitted 
Garion*s mood. For a long time he stood toying with the end of a 
knotted rope and looking out over the moon-touched waves, not so much 
thinking as simply registering the sights and sounds and smells 


around him. 
He knew she was there. It was not merely the fragrance he had known 
since his earliest childhood, but also the calm sense of her 
presence. With a peculiar kind of abstraction he sought back through 
his memories. He had, it seemed, always known exactly where she was. 
Even on the darkest of nights he could have started from sleep in a 
strange room in some forgotten town and pointed unerringly to the 
place where she was. The captain of this ship was guided by the 
lights in the sky, but the star that had led Garion for his entire 
life was not some far-distant glimmer on the velvet throat of night. 
It was much closer, and much more constant. 
"What's troubling you, Garion?" she asked, laying a gentle hand on 
his shoulder. 
"I could hear his voice, Aunt Pol—Torak's voice. He hated me 
thousands of years before I was even born. He even knew my name." 
"Garion," she said very calmly, "the universe knew your name before 
that moon up there was spun out of the emptiness. Whole 
constellations have been waiting for you since the beginning of 
time." 
*'I didn't want them to, Aunt Pol." 
"There are those of us who aren't given that option, Gar-ion. There 
are things that have to be done and certain people who have to do 
them. It's as simple as that." 
He smiled rather sadly at her flawless face and gently touched the 
snowy white lock at her brow. Then, for the last time in his life, he 
asked the question that had been on 
his lips since he was a tiny boy. "Why me, Aunt Pol? Why me?" 
"Can you possibly think of anyone else you'd trust to deal with these 
matters, Garion?" 
He had not really been prepared for that question. It came at him in 
stark simplicity. Now at last he fully understood. "No," he sighed, 
"I suppose not. Somehow it seems a little unfair, though. I wasn't 
even consulted." 
"Neither was I, Garion," she answered. "But we didn't have to be 
consulted, did we? The knowledge of what we have to do is born in 
us." She put her arms around him and drew him close. "I'm so very 
proud of you, my Garion," she said. 
He laughed a bit wryly. "I suppose I didn't turn out too badly after 
all," he conceded. "I can get my shoes on the right feet at least." 
"And you have no idea how long that took to explain to you," she 
replied with a light laugh. "You were a good boy, Garion, but you'd 
never listen. Even Rundorig would listen. He didn't usually 
understand, but at least he'd listen." 
"I miss him sometimes. Him and Doroon and Zubrette." Garion paused. 
"Did they ever get married? Rundorig and Zubrette, I mean?" 
"Oh, yes. Years and years ago, and Zubrette is up to her waist in 


children—five or so. I used to get a message every autumn, and I'd 
have to go back to Faldor's farm to deliver her newest baby." 
"You did that?" He was amazed. 
"I certainly wouldn't have let anyone else do it. Zubrette and I 
disagreed about certain things, but I'm still very fond of her." 
"Is she happy?" 
"I think she is, yes. Rundorig's easy to manage, and she has all 
those children to keep her mind occupied." She looked at him 
critically. "Are you a little less moody now?" she asked. 
c "I feel better," he replied. "I always feel better when you're 
around." : "That's nice." 
158 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
He remembered something. "Did Grandfather get a chance to tell you 
what the Oracles said about Ce'Nedra?" 
"Yes," she said. "I'll keep an eye on her. Why don't we go below now? 
The next few weeks might be hectic, so let's get all the sleep we can 
while we have the chance." 
The coast of Peldane was engulfed in fog just as Captain Kadian had 
predicted, but the beacon fires burning on the walls of Selda 
provided reference points, and they were able to feel their way 
carefully along the coast until the ship's captain estimated that 
they were near the beach shown on Kadian's chart. 
"There's a fishing village about a mile south of here, your 
Highness," the captain advised Silk. "It's deserted now, because of 
all the troubles in the area, but there's a dock there—or at least 
there was the last time I sailed past this coast. We should be able 
to unload your horses there.' * 
"Excellent, Captain," Silk replied. 
They crept along through the fog until they reached the deserted 
village and its shaky-looking dock. As soon as Chretienne reached the 
shore, Garion saddled him, then mounted and rode slowly back along 
the beach with Iron-grip's sword resting on the pommel of his saddle. 
After he had gone perhaps a mile and a half, he felt the familiar 
pull. He turned and rode back. 
The others had also saddled their horses and led them to the edge of 
the fog-shrouded fishermen's village. Their ship was moving slowly 
out to sea, a dim shape in the fog with red and green lanterns 
marking her port and starboard sides and with a lone sailor astride 
her bowsprit blowing a melancholy foghorn to warn other ships away. 
Garion dismounted and led his big gray stallion to where the others 
waited. 
"Did you find it?" Ce'Nedra asked intently in a hushed little voice. 
Garion had noticed that for some reason, fog always made people speak 
quietly. 
"Yes," he replied. Then he looked at his grandfather. "Well?" he 


asked. "Do we just ignore the trail and take the shortest route to 
Kell or what?" 
Belgarath scratched at his beard and looked first at 
DAVID EDDINGS 
159 
Bel din, then at Polgara. "What do you think?" he asked them. 
"The trail was going inland, wasn't it?" Beldin asked Garion. 
Garion nodded. 
"Then we don't have to make the decision yet," the hunchback said. 
"As long as Z and ram as is going in the same direction we want to 
go, we can keep on following her. If she changes direction later on, 
then we can decide." 
"It makes sense, father," Polgara agreed. 
"All right, we'll do it that way, then." The old man looked around. 
"This fog should hide us just as well as darkness would. Let's go 
pick up the trail, and then Garion, Pol, and I can scout on ahead." 
He squinted up into the murky sky. "Can anybody make a guess about 
the time?" 
"It's about midafternoon, Belgarath," Durnik told him after a 
momentary consultation with Toth. 
"Let's go find out which way she's going, then." 
They rode along the beach, following Chretienne's tracks until they 
reached the spot where Garion's sword swung in his hand to point 
inland. 
"We should be able to gain some time on her," Sadi noted. 
"Why's that?" Silk asked him. 
"She came ashore in a small boat," the eunuch replied, "so she didn't 
have horses." 
"That's no real problem for her, Sadi," Polgara told him. "She's a 
Grolim, and she can communicate with her underlings over long 
distances. I'm sure she was on horseback within an hour of the time 
her foot touched the sand.' * 
The eunuch sighed. "I forget about that from time to : time," he 
admitted. "It's very convenient for us to have that advantage, but 
not nearly so convenient when the other side has it, too." 
Belgarath swung down from his horse. "Come along, Garion. You, too, 
Pol. We might as well get started." He looked over at Durnik. "We'll 
stay in close touch," he told the smith. "This fog could make things 
a little tricky." 
"Right," Durnik agreed. 
Garion took Polgara's arm to help her through the soft 
160 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
161 
sand and followed his grandfather up the beach to the line of 


driftwood at the high-water mark. 
"This should do it," the old man decided. "Let's make the change
here, and then Garion and I can scout on ahead. Pol, try to keep the
others more or less in sight. I don't want them straying." 
"Yes, father," she said even as she began to shimmer and change. 
Garion formed the image in his mind, pulled in his will, and once 
again felt that curious melting sensation. He looked himself over 
carefully as he always did. On one occasion he'd made the change in a 
hurry and had forgotten his tail. A tail does not mean very much to a 
two-legged animal, but it is distinctly necessary for a four-legged 
one. 
"Stop admiring yourself," he heard BelgarauYs voice in the silences 
of his mind. "We've got work to do." 
"I was just making sure that I had everything, Grandfather." 
"Let's go. You won't be able to see very much in the fog, so use your 
nose." 
Polgara was perched sedately on a bone-white limb jutting up from a 
driftwood log. She was meticulously preening her snowy feathers with 
her hooked beak. 
Belgarath and Garion effortlessly hurdled over the driftwood and
loped off into the fog. "It's going to be a wet day," Garion noted 
soundlessly as he ran alongside the great silver wolf. 
"Your fur won't melt." 
"I know, but my paws get cold when they're wet." 
"I'll have Durnik make you some little booties." 
"That would be absolutely ridiculous, Grandfather," Garion said
indignantly. Even though he had only recently made the change, the 
wolfs enormous sense of decorum and propriety had already begun to 
permeate his consciousness. 
"There are some people just ahead," Belgarath said, sniffing at the 
air. "Tell your aunt." 
They separated and moved off into the tall, fog-wet marsh grass. 
"Aunt Pol." Garion cast the words into the foggy silence around him.
"Yes, dear?" 
"Tell Durnik and the others to rein in. There are some strangers up 
ahead." 
"All right, Garion. Be careful." 
Garion slunk low to the ground through the wet grass, setting each 
paw down carefully. 
"Will it never lift?" he heard a voice somewhere off to his left
demand irritably. 
"The local people say that it's always foggy around here in the 
spring," another voice replied.
"It's not spring." 
"It is here. We're south of the line. The seasons are reversed." 
"That's a stupid sort of thing." 



"It wasn't my idea. Talk to the Gods if you want to register a 
complaint." 
There was a long silence. "Have the Hounds found anything yet?" the 
first voice asked. 
"It's very hard to sniff out a trail after three days—even for the 
Hounds—and all the wet from this fog isn't making it any easier." 
§ Garion froze. "Grandfather!" he hurled the thought into 1 the 
fog. 
"Don't shout." 
"There are two men talking just up ahead. They have some of the 
Hounds with them. I think they're trying to find the trail, too." 
"Pol." The old man's thought seemed to crackle. "Come up here." 
"Yes, father." 
It was no more than a few minutes, but it seemed like hours. Then in 
the murky fog overhead, Garion heard the single stroke of soft wings. 
"There are some men over there to the left," Belgarath's voice 
reported. "I think they might be Grolims. Have a look, but be 
careful." 
"All right," she replied. There was another soft wing beat in the 
fog. Again there was that interminable wait. 
Then her voice came back quite clearly. "You're right, 
ither," she said. "They're Chandim." 
162 
SORCERESS OP DARSHIVA 
A muttered oath came out of the stillness. "Urvon," Bel-garatn's 
voice said. 
"And probably Nahaz as well," Polgara added. 
"This complicates things," the old man said. "Let's go back and talk 
with the others. We might have to make the decision sooner than 
Beldin thought." 
CHAPTER TEN 
They gathered not far from the driftwood-littered beach. The fog had 
slipped imperceptibly from white to gray as evening settled slowly 
over this misty coast. 
"That's it, then," Beldin said after Belgarath had told mem what lay 
ahead. "If the Chandim and the Hounds are out there trying to sniff 
out Zandramas' trail the same as we are, we're bound to run into them 
sooner or later." 
"We've dealt with them before," Silk objected. 
"I'll grant that," Beldin replied, "but why risk that sort of thing 
if we don't have to? The trail of Zandramas isn't really important to 
us now. What we really need to do at this point is to get to Kell." 
Belgarath was pacing up and down. "Beldin's right," he said. "There's 
no point in taking risks over something that doesn't really matter 
any more." 
163 


164 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
165 
"But we're so close," Ce'Nedra protested. 
"If we start running into Chandim—and Hounds—we won't stay very 
close," Beldin told her. 
Sadi had put on a western-style traveler's cloak and had turned the 
hood up to ward off the dampness of the fog. The covering of his 
shaved scalp peculiarly altered his appearance. "What's Zandramas 
likely to do when she finds out that the Chandim are trailing her?" 
he asked. 
"She'll put every Grolim and every soldier she can lay her hands on 
in their path," Polgara replied. 
"And they'll just bring in more force to counter that, won't they?" 
"That's the logical assumption," Durnik agreed. 
"That sort of means that things are going to come to a head here 
fairly soon, wouldn't you say—even if neither side would particularly 
have chosen this place for a major confrontation?" 
"What are you getting at, Sadi?" Silk asked him. 
"If Urvon and Zandramas are concentrating on each other, they won't 
really pay that much attention to us, will they? About all we have to 
do is get out of this general vicinity, and then we should be able to 
make straight for Kell without much in the way of interference." 
"What lies to the south of us?" Beldin asked Silk. 
"Nothing major." Silk shrugged. "At least not until you get to 
Gandahar." 
Beldin nodded. "But we've got a city just to the north of here, don't 
we?" 
"Selda," Silk supplied. 
"Urvon's probably there already, but if we go south, we should be 
able to avoid him—and Zandramas as well. Sadi's right. They'll be so 
busy with each other they won't have time to look for us." 
"Anybody want to add anything?" Belgarath asked them. 
"A fire maybe?" Durnik said. 
"I don't quite follow you." 
"WeVe got all this fog," Durnik explained, "and night's coming on. 
The Chandim are out there ahead of us, and we need something to 
distract their attention while we slip around them. There's all that 
driftwood along the upper edge of the beach. A bonfire on a foggy 
night lights up the whole 
I sky. You can see it for miles. If we build a few fires, the 

•.•Chandim are going to think that something serious is going on 
behind them and they'll all rush back to investigate. That fought to 
clear the way for us." 
''{ Beldin grinned and clapped a gnarled hand on the smith's 

shoulder. "You made a good choice, Pol," he chortled. "This is a rare 
fellow here." 
"Yes," she murmured. "I saw that almost immediately." 
They rode back along the beach to the abandoned fishing village. "Do 
you want me to do it, Grandfather?" Garion coffered. "Set fire to the
driftwood, I mean?"
"No," the old man replied, "I'll take care of it. You and Pol take
the others on down along the shoreline. I'll catch up in a bit." 
"Do you want these?" Durnik asked, offering the old iman his flint 
and steel. 
V Belgarath shook his head. "I'll do it the other way," he f'said. 
"I want to give the Chandim some noise to listen to, 


•f as well as the fire to watch. That should get their undivided X 
attention." He strode off into the fog, heading back up the beach. 
"Come along, Garion," Polgara said, pushing back the (hood of her 
cloak. "We'll scout ahead again. I think we'll |want to move fairly 
fast." 
The two of them walked a short distance down the beach and made the 
change once more. "Keep your mind awake as well as your ears and 
nose," Polgara's voice silently in-utructed. "With this fog, the 
Chandim will probably be Watching with their thoughts rather than 
their eyes." " "Yes, Aunt Pol," he replied, loping toward the upper 
end «f the beach. Sand was different underfoot than grass or %rf. It 
gave slightly under his paws and it slowed him a bit. He decided that 
he did not really like running in sand. He ran along for a couple of 
miles without any encounters, then ...|K heard and felt a shockingly 
loud surge coming from lewhere behind him. He flinched and glanced 
back over shoulder. The fog was illuminated by a sooty orange There 
was another surge that sounded almost like a detonation, then 
another, and another. 
166 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
167 
"Tacky, father," he heard Polgara say disapprovingly. "Why are you 
being so ostentatious?" 
"I just wanted to be sure they heard me, is all," the old man 
replied. 
"They probably heard you in Mal Zeth. Are you coming back now?" 
"Let me start a few more fires first. The Chandim have a limited 
attention span. Besides, the smoke should confuse the Hounds' sense 
of smell." 
There were several more detonations. 
"That should do it." Belgarath's thought had a note of selfsatisfaction 
in it. 
About twenty minutes later, the great silver wolf came out of the fog 

like a ghost. "Oh, there you are," Belgarath said to Garion in the 
way of wolves. "Let's spread out a bit and move right along. Durnik 
and the others are right behind us." 
"Did the Chandim go back to the beach to see what was happening?" 
"Oh, yes." Belgarath's tongue lolled out in the wolfs version of a 
grin. "They were definitely curious. There were quite a few of them. 
Shall we go?" 
They ran along for about another hour before Garion's nostrils caught 
the scent of a horse and rider coming from somewhere ahead. He loped 
on through the fog, ranging back and forth until he pinpointed the 
man's location. Then he ran forward. 
It was a solitary Temple Guardsman who was galloping northward toward 
the towering fires Belgarath had ignited. Garion rushed him, snarling 
terribly. The Guardsman's horse squealed in panic, rearing up onto 
his hind legs and dumping his startled rider into a bleached pile of 
driftwood. The horse fled, and the Guardsman groaned as he lay 
tangled up in the white logs and branches half-buried in the sand. 
"Trouble?" Belgarath's thought came out of the fog. 
"A Guardsman," Garion replied. "He fell off his horse. I think he may 
have broken some things." 
"Was he alone?" 
"Yes, Grandfather. Where are you?" 
"Just a ways ahead of you. There are some woods up 
here. This looks like as good a place as any to turn west. I don't 
think we need to go all the way down to Gandahar." 
"I'll tell Aunt Pol to pass the word to Durnik." 
The woods were quite extensive, and there was very little 
undergrowth. At one point, Garion passed the embers of a campfire 
still glowing in the foggy dark. The campsite, however, was deserted, 
and there were signs that whoever had been there had departed in some 
haste. The track of churned loam on the forest floor indicated that 
the people had galloped off toward the fires on the beach. 
Garion ran on. 
Near the edge of the woods, a faint breeze carried a sharp canine 
reek. Garion stopped. "Grandfather," he sent his thought out 
urgently, "I smell a dog up ahead." 
"Only one?" 
"I think so." He crept forward, his ears and nose alert. "I can only 
smell one," he reported. 
"Stay put. I'll be right there." 
Garion dropped to his haunches and waited. A few moments later, the 
silver wolf joined him. 
"Is he moving around at all?" Belgarath asked. 
"No, Grandfather. He seems to be just sitting in one place. Do you 
think we can slip around him?" 
"You and I could, but I don't think that Durnik and the others would 


be able to. The Hounds can hear and smell almost as well as wolves 
can." 
"Can we frighten him off?" 
"I doubt it. He's bigger than we are. Even if we did, he'd just go 
for help—and we definitely don't want a pack of the Hounds on our 
trail. We're going to have to kill him." 
"Grandfather!" Garion gasped. For some reason, the thought of 
deliberately killing another canine profoundly '' shocked him. 
"I know," Belgarath agreed. "The notion's repugnant, but we don't 
have any choice. He's blocking our way out of this area, and we have 
to be clear of here by daylight. Now listen carefully. The Hounds are 
big, but they're not very agile. They particularly aren't very good 
at turning around jin a hurry. I'll confront him head-on. You run in 
behind him and hamstring him. You know how to do that?" 
That knowledge was instinctive in wolves, and Garion 
168 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
169 
found, almost with surprise, that he knew precisely what to do. 
"Yes," he replied. The speech of wolves is limited in its emotional 
range, so he could not indicate how uncomfortable this impending 
encounter made him. 
"All right," Belgarath continued, "once you cut his hamstrings, get 
back out of the range of his teeth. He'll try to turn on you. That's 
instinctive, so he won't be able to stop himself. That's when I'll 
take his throat." 
Garion shuddered at the deliberateness of the plan. Belgarath was 
proposing not a fight, but a cold-blooded killing. "Let's get it over 
with, Grandfather," he said unhappily. 
"Don't whine, Garion," Belgarath's thought came to him. "He'll hear 
you." 
"I don't like this," Garion thought back. 
"Neither do I, but it's the only thing we can do. Let's 
go-" They crept among the fog-dimmed tree trunks with the 
smell of the Hound growing stronger in their nostrils. It was not a 
pleasant smell, since dogs will eat carrion, while wolves will not. 
Then Garion saw the Hound outlined black against the fog beyond the 
edge of the trees. Belgarath paused, indicating that he also saw 
their intended victim. Then the two wolves separated and moved in the 
slow, deliberate pace of the hunt, setting each paw carefully and 
noiselessly down on the damp forest loam. 
It was over in a shockingly short time. The Hound screamed once when 
Garion's fangs ripped the tendons of his hind legs, but the scream 
died into a hideous rattling gurgle as Belgarath's jaws closed on his 
throat. The huge black body twitched a few times with its front paws 


scratching convulsively at the dirt. Then it shuddered and went limp. 
The dead Hound blurred peculiarly, and then there was a Grolim lying 
on the ground before them with his throat torn out. 
"I didn't know they did that," Garion said, fighting down a surge of 
revulsion. 
"Sometimes they do." Then Belgarath sent out his thought. "It's clear 
now, Pol. Tell Durnik to bring them on through." 
As dawn turned the fog opalescent, they took shelter in a ruined 
village. There had been a wall around it, and part of 
it was still standing. The houses had been made of stone. Some were 
still more or less intact—except for the roofs. Others had been 
tumbled into the narrow streets. In places, smoke still rose from the 
shattered debris. 
"I think we can risk a fire," Durnik suggested, looking at the smoke. 
Polgara looked around. "A hot breakfast wouldn't hurt," she agreed. 
"It might be some time before we get another chance for one. Over 
there, I think," she added, "in what's left of that house." 
"In just a moment, Durnik," Belgarath said. "I'll need you to 
translate for me.' * He looked at Toth. ' 'I assume you know how to 
get to Kell from here?" he asked the huge mute. 
Toth shifted the unbleached wool blanket he wore draped over one 
shoulder and nodded. 
"In Melcena, we heard that Kell has been sealed off," the old man 
continued. "Will they let us through?" 
Toth made a series of those obscure gestures. 
"He says that there won't be any problem—as long as Cyradis is still 
at Kell," Durnik translated. "She'll instruct the other seers to let 
us through." 
"She's there, then?" Belgarath asked. 
The gestures came more rapidly. 
"I didn't quite follow that," Durnik told his friend. 
Toth gestured again, slower this time. 
Durnik frowned. "This is a little complicated, Belgarath," he said. 
"As closely as I can make out what he says, she's there and yet not 
there at the same time—sort of the way she was when we saw Zandramas 
that time. But she's also there and not there in several other places 
as well—and in several different times." 
"That's a neat trick," Beldin said. "Did he tell you where these 
other places and times are?" 
"No. I think he'd rather not." 
"We can respect that," Belgarath said. 
"It doesn't diminish the curiosity, though," Beldin said. He brushed 
a few twigs out of his beard, then pointed at the sky. "I'm going up 
there," he added. "I think we ought to know how far this fog extends 
and what we're likely to 


SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
run into once we get past it." He stopped, spread his arms, 
shimmered, and swooped away. 
Durnik led the way into the ruined house and built a small fire in 
the fireplace while Silk and Sadi prowled through the shattered 
village. After a short while they returned with a very thin Melcene 
in the brown robe of a bureaucrat. "He was hiding in a cellar," Silk 
reported. 
The bureaucrat was trembling visibly, and his eyes were wild. 
"What's your name?" Belgarath asked him. 
The Melcene stared at the old man as if he didn't understand. 
"I think he's had a bad time lately," Silk said. "We weren't able to 
get a word out of him." 
"Can you give him something to calm his nerves?" Belgarath asked 
Sadi. 
"I was just about to suggest that myself, Ancient One." Sadi went to 
his red leather case and took out a small glass vial filled with 
amber liquid. He took a tin cup from the table and poured some water 
into it. Then he carefully measured a few drops of the amber liquid 
into the water and swirled it around. "Why don't you drink this?" he 
said, handing the trembling Melcene the cup. 
The fellow seized the cup gratefully and drained it in several noisy 
gulps. 
"Give it a few moments to take effect," Sadi said quietly to 
Belgarath. 
They watched the terrified man until his trembling subsided. "Are you 
feeling any better now, friend?" Sadi asked him. 
"Y-yes," the thin fellow replied. He drew in a long shuddering 
breath. "Thank you," he said. "Have you any food? I'm very hungry." 
Polgara gave him some bread and cheese. "This should tide you over 
until breakfast," she said. 
"Thank you, Lady." He hungrily took the food and began to wolf it 
down. 
"You look as if you've been through quite a lot lately," Silk said. 
"And none of it pleasant," the bureaucrat told him. "What did you say 
your name was?" 
DAVID EDDINGS 
171 
"Nabros. I'm with the Bureau of Roads." 
"How long have you been in Peldane?" 
' 'It seems like forever, but I suppose it's only been twenty years 
or so." 
"What's going on here?" The rat-faced man gestured around at the 
shattered houses. 
"Absolute chaos," Nabros replied. "Things have been in an upheaval 
for several years now, but last month Zan-dramas annexed Peldane." 


"How did she do that? I'd heard that she was somewhere in the western 
part of the continent." 
"So had I. Maybe she just got word back to her generals. Nobody's 
seen her for several years now." 
"You seem to be fairly well informed, Nabros," Silk suggested. 
Nabros shrugged. "It goes with being a member of the bureaucracy." He 
smiled a bit wanly. "Sometimes I think we spend more time gossiping 
than we do working." 
"What have you heard about Zandramas lately?" Belgarath asked. 
"Well," the fellow replied, rubbing at his unshaven cheek, "just 
before I fled the bureau offices in Selda, a friend of mine from the 
Bureau of Commerce came by. He said that there's supposed to be a 
coronation of some kind in Hemil—that's the capital of Darshiva, you 
know. My friend told me that they're going to crown some archduke 
from Melcena as Emperor of Mallorea." 
"Mallorea's already got an emperor," Velvet objected. 
"I think that may be part of the idea. My friend from Commerce is a 
fairly shrewd fellow, and he was speculating a bit after he told me 
what they were planning. Kal Zakath's been in Cthol Murgos for years 
now, but he recently returned to Mal Zeth. Most of his army is still 
in the west, however, so he can't put great masses of troops in the 
field. My friends seemed to think that Zandramas ordered this 
coronation in order to infuriate the Emperor to the point that he'll 
do something rash. It's my guess that she hopes to lure him out of 
Mal Zeth so her forces can fall on him. If she succeeds in killing 
him, this archduke from Melcena will actually be the emperor." 
"What's the point of that?" Silk asked him. 
172 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
173 
"You've heard of Urvon, haven't you?" 
"The Disciple?" 
"That's the one. He's been sitting for centuries in Mal Yaska, but 
what's been going on in this part of the world has finally lured him 
out. It's because of Zandramas, you see. She's a direct challenge to 
him. Anyway, he marched across Karanda gathering up an enormous army. 
The Kar-ands even believe he has demons aiding him. That's nonsense, 
of course, but Karands will believe anything. That's why Zandramas—or 
her people—have to get control of the imperial throne. She needs to 
bring the Mallorean army back from Cthol Murgos to match Urvon's 
forces. Otherwise, he'll destroy everything she's worked for." The 
suddenly talkative bureaucrat sighed deeply, and his head began to 
nod. 
"I think he'll sleep now," Sadi murmured to Belgarath. 
"That's all right," the old man replied. "I've got what I need." 


"Not quite yet," Polgara said crisply from her cook-fire. "There are 
some things that I need as well." She carefully stepped across the 
littered floor of the half-ruined house and lightly touched one hand 
to the dozing bureaucrat's face. His eyes opened, and he looked at 
her a bit blankly. "How much do you know about Zandramas?" she asked 
him. "I think I'd like to hear the full story—if you know it. How did 
she gain so much power?" 
"That's a long story, Lady." 
"We have time." 
The thin Melcene rubbed at his eyes and stifled a yawn. "Let me 
see," he said, half to himself, "where did it all start?" He sighed. 
"I came here to Peldane about twenty years ago. I was young and very 
enthusiastic. It was my first post, and I wanted very much to make 
good. Peldane's not such a bad place, really. We had Grolims here, 
naturally, but they were a long way from Urvon and Mal Yaska, and 
they didn't take their religion very seriously. Torak had been 
dormant for five hundred years, and Urvon wasn't interested in what 
was going on out here in the hinterlands. 
"Over in Darshiva, though, things were different. There had been some 
kind of a schism in the Temple in Hemil, the capital, and it ended up 
in a bloodbath." He smiled 
fointly. "One of the few times Grolims have ever put their knives to 
good use, I suppose. The upshot of the affair was that a new 
archpriest gained control of the Temple—a man named Naradas." 
"Yes," Polgara said. "We've heard of him." 
"I've never actually seen him, but I'm told he has very strange eyes. 
Anyway, among his followers there was a young Grolim priestess named 
Zandramas. She must have been about sixteen then, and very beautiful, 
I've heard. Naradas reintroduced the old forms of worship, and the 
altar in the Temple at Hemil ran with blood." He shuddered. "It seems 
that the young priestess was the most enthusiastic participant in the 
Grolim rite of sacrifice—either out of an excess of fanaticism, or 
innate cruelty, or because she knew that this was the best way to 
attract the eye of the new archpriest. There are rumors that she 
attracted his eye in other ways as well. She'd unearthed a very 
obscure passage in the Book of Torak that seemed to say that the rite 
of sacrifice should be performed unclad. They say that Zandramas has 
a striking figure, and I guess the combination of blood and her 
nakedness completely inflamed Naradas. I've heard that things used to 
happen in the sanctum of the Temple during the rite that cannot be 
described in the presence of ladies." 
"I think we can skip over that part, Nabros," Polgara told him 
primly, glancing at Eriond. 
"Anyhow," Nabros continued, "all Grolims claim to be sorcerers, but 
from what I gather, the ones in Darshiva weren't very skilled. 
Naradas could manage a few things, but most of his followers resorted 


to charlatanism—sleight of hand and other forms of trickery, you 
understand. 
"At any rate, not long after Naradas had consolidated his • position, 
word reached us here that Torak had been killed. Naradas and his 
underlings went into absolute despair, but something rather profound 
seems to have happened to Zandramas. She walked out of the Temple at 
Hemil in a kind :?,flf a daze. My friend from the Bureau of Commerce 
was ; Ifeere at the time and he saw her. He said that her eyes were 
and that she had an expression of inhuman ecstasy her face. When she 
reached the edge of the city, she off her clothes and ran naked into 
the forest. We 
174 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
175 
all assumed that she'd gone completely mad and that we'd seen the 
last of her. 
"Once in a while, though, travelers would report having seen her in 
that wilderness near the border of Likandia. Sometimes, she'd run 
away from them, and other times, she'd stop them and speak to them in 
a language no one could understand. They listened, though—perhaps 
because she still hadn't managed to find any clothes. 
"Then one day after a few years, she showed up at the gates of Hemil. 
She was wearing a black Grolim robe made of satin, and she seemed to 
be totally in control of herself. She went to the Temple and sought 
out Naradas. The arch-priest had given himself wholly over to the 
grossest kind of debauchery in his despair, but after he and 
Zandramas spoke together privately, he seems to have had a 
reconversion of some kind. Since that time, he's been the follower. 
He'll do anything Zandramas tells him to do. 
"Zandramas spent a short time in the Temple, then she began to move 
about in Darshiva. At first she spoke only with Grolims, but in time 
she went out and talked with ordinary people as well. She always told 
them the same thing—that a new God of Angarak was coming. After a 
time, word of what she was doing got back to Mal Yaska, and Urvon 
sent some very powerful Grolims to Darshiva to stop her. I'm not sure 
what happened to her out there in that wilderness, but whatever it 
was seems to have filled her with enormous power. When Urvon's 
Grolims tried to stop her from preaching, she simply obliterated 
them." 
"Obliterated?" Beigarath exclaimed in astonishment. 
"That's about the only word I can use. Some of them she consumed with 
fire. Others were blasted to bits by bolts of lightning that shot 
down out of a cloudless sky. Once, she opened the earth, dropped five 
of them into a pit, and then closed the earth on them again. Urvon 
began to take her very seriously at that point, I guess. He sent more 


and more Grolims to Darshiva, but she destroyed them all. The 
Darshivan Grolims who chose to follow her were given real powers, so 
they didn't have to resort to trickery any more." 
"And the ones who didn't?" Polgara asked. 
' 'None of them survived. I understand that a few of them
tried deception—pretending to accept her message—but I guess she
could see right through them and took appropriate steps. It probably
wasn't really necessary, though. She spoke as if inspired, and no one 
could resist her message. Before long, all of Darshiva—Grolims and 
secular people alike-groveled at her feet. 
"She moved north from Darshiva into Rengel and Voresebo, preaching as 
she went and converting whole multitudes. The archpriest Naradas 
followed her blindly and he was also enormously eloquent and appears 
to have only slightly less power than she does. For some reason, she 
never came across the River Magan into Peldane—until recently." 
"All right," Polgara said, "she converted Rengel and Voresebo. Then
what?"
"I really can't say." Nabros shrugged. "About three years ago, both 
she and Naradas disappeared. I think they went off to the west 
someplace, but I don't know for sure. About the last thing she told
the crowds before she left was that she was going to be the bride of
this new God she's been talking about. Then, a month ago, her forces 
came across the Magan and invaded Peldane. That's about all I know, 
really." 
Polgara stepped back. "Thank you, Nabros," she said gently. "Why 
don't you see if you can get some sleep now? -I'll save some
breakfast for you." 
He sighed, and his eyelids began to droop. "Thank you, Lady," he said
drowsily, and a moment later he was fast asleep. Polgara gently
covered him with a blanket.
Beigarath motioned to them, and they all went back over to the fire
again. "It's all beginning to fit together now, isn't lit?" he said.
"When Tbrak died, the Dark Spirit took over Zandramas and made her 
the Child of Dark. That's what that business in the wilderness was 
all about." 
Ce'Nedra had been muttering to herself under her breath. Her eyes 
were dangerous and her face angry. "You'd better do something about 
this, old man," she said threateningly Jto Beigarath.
"About what?" He looked a little baffled. 
"You heard what that man said. He told us that Zandra-plans to be the 
bride of this new God." 


SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"Yes," he said mildly, "I heard him." 
"You're not going to let something like that happen, are you?" 
"I hadn't planned to, no. What's got you so upset, Ce'Nedra?" 



Her eyes flashed. "I will not have Zandramas for a daughter-in-law," 
she declared hotly, "no matter what happens." 
He stared at her for a moment, then he began to laugh. 
CHAPTER ELEVEN 
By midafternoon the wan dish of the sun had begun to burn through the 
pervading mist, and Held in returned. "The fog's completely cleared 
away about a league west of here," he told them. 
"Are there any signs of movement out there?" Belgarath asked him. 
"Some," Beldin replied. "A few detachments of troops that are all 
headed north. Otherwise it's as empty as a merchant's soul. Sorry, 
Kheldar, it's just an old expression." "That's all right, Beldin," 
Silk forgave him grandly. hese little slips of the tongue are common 
in the very Ifbiderly." 
I/ Beldin gave him a hard look and then continued. "The ! villages 
up ahead all seem to be deserted and mostly in 
177 
178 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
ruins. I'd say that the villagers have fled." He glanced at the 
sleeping Melcene. "Who's your guest?" he asked. 
"He's with the Bureau of Roads," Belgarath replied. "Silk found him 
hiding in a cellar." 
"Is he really all that sleepy?" 
"Sadi gave him something to calm his nerves." 
"I'd say it worked pretty good. He looks very calm." 
"Would you like something to eat, uncle?" Polgara asked. 
"Thanks all the same, Pol, but I had a fat rabbit an hour or so 
ago." He looked back at Belgarath. "I think we'll still want to 
travel at night," he advised. "You don't have whole regiments out 
there, but mere are enough to give us trouble if they happen to 
surprise us." 
"Any idea of whose troops they are?" 
"I didn't see any Guardsmen or Karands. I'd guess that they belong to 
Zandramas—or to the King of Peldane. Whoever they are, they're going 
north toward that battle that's about to begin." 
"All right," Belgarath said, "we'll travel at night, then— at least 
until we get past the soldiers." 
They moved along at a fair rate of speed that night. They had passed 
the woods, and the watchfires of the soldiers encamped on the plain 
made them easy to avoid. Then, just before dawn, Belgarath and Garion 
stopped atop a low hill and looked down at a camp that seemed quite a 
bit larger than those they had passed earlier. "About a battalion, 
Grandfather," Garion surmised. "I think we've got a problem here. The 
country around here's awfully flat. This is the only hill weVe seen 
for miles, and there isn't very much cover. No matter how we try to 
hide, their scouts are going to see us. It might be safer if we 


turned around and went back a ways." 
Belgarath laid back his ears in irritation. "Let's go back and warn 
the others," he growled. He rose to his feet and led Garion back the 
way they had come. 
"There's no point in taking chances, father," Polgara said after she 
had drifted in on silent wings. "The country was more broken a few 
miles back. We can go back there and find shelter." 
"Were the cooks making breakfast?" Sadi asked. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
179 
"Yes," Garion replied. "I could smell it—some kind of porridge and 
bacon." 
"They're not likely to move or send out scouts until after they eat, 
are they?" 
"No," Garion told him. "Troops get very surly if you make them start 
marching before you feed them." 
"And were the sentries all wearing the standard military cloak—the 
ones that look more or less like these?" He plucked at the front of 
his traveler's cloak. 
"The ones I saw were," Garion said. 
"Why don't we pay them a visit, Prince Kheldar?" The eunuch 
suggested. 
"What have you got in mind?" Silk asked suspiciously. 
"Porridge is so bland, don't you think? I have a number of things in 
my case that can spice it up just a bit. We can walk through the 
encampment like a pair of sentries whoVe just been relieved and go 
directly to the cook-fires for a bite of breakfast. I shouldn't have 
much trouble seasoning the kettles with certain condiments." 
Silk grinned at him. 
"No poison," Belgarath said firmly. 
"I hadn't considered poison, Ancient One," Sadi protested mildly. ' 
'Not out of any sense of morality, mind you. It's just that soldiers 
tend to grow suspicious when their messmates turn black in the face 
and topple over. I have something much more pleasant in mind. The 
soldiers will all be deliriously happy for a short while, then 
they'll fall asleep." 
"For how long?" Silk asked. 
"Several days," Sadi shrugged. "A week at the very ••most." , Silk 
whistled. "Is it dangerous at all?" 
"Only if one has a weak heart. I've used it on myself on 
occasion—when I was particularly tired. Shall we go, then?" 
"Teaming those two together may have been a moral jjiunder," 
Belgarath mused as the two rogues walked off in darkness toward the 
twinkling watchfires. 
It was about an hour later when the little Drasnian and eunuch 
returned. "It's safe now," Sadi reported. "We go on through their 


camp. There's a low range of hills 
180 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
181 
a league or so farther on where we can take shelter until night." 
"Any trouble at all?" Velvet asked. 
"Not a bit," Silk smirked. "Sadi's very good at that sort of thing." 
"Practice, my dear Kheldar," the eunuch said deprecat-ingly. ' 'I Ve 
poisoned a fair number of people in my time.'' He grinned 
mirthlessly. "Once I gave a banquet for a group of my enemies. Not a 
single one of them saw me season the soup course, and Nyissans are 
very observant when it comes to that sort of thing." 
"Didn't they get suspicious when you didn't eat any soup?" Velvet 
asked curiously. 
"But I did, Liselle. I'd spent an entire week dosing myself with the 
antidote." He shuddered. "Vile-tasting stuff, as I recall. The poison 
itself was quite tasty. A number of my guests even complimented me on 
the soup before they left." He sighed. "Those were the good old 
days," he mourned. 
"I think we can reminisce later on," Belgarath said. "Let's see if we 
can reach those hills before the sun gets much higher." 
The soldiers' encampment was silent, except for an occasional snore. 
The troops were all smiling happily as they slept. 
The following night was cloudy, and the air smelled strongly of 
incipient rain. Garion and Belgarath had no trouble finding the 
encampments of the soldiers in their path, and a few overheard 
snatches of conversation revealed the fact that these troops were 
members of the royal army of Peldane, and further that they were 
approaching the impending battle with a great deal of reluctance. 
About morning, Garion and his grandfather trotted back to rejoin the 
others with Polgara ghosting just above them on silent wings. 
"A sound is still a sound," Durnik was saying stubbornly to Beldin. 
The two were riding side by side. 
"But if there's nobody to hear it, how can we call it a sound?" 
Beldin argued. 
Belgarath shook himself into his own form. "The noise 
in the woods again, Beldin?" he said in a tone of profound-est 
disgust. 
The hunchback shrugged. "You've got to start somewhere." 
"Can't you think of anything new? After we argued the question for a 
thousand years, I thought you might have gotten tired of it." 
"What's this?" Polgara asked, walking through the tall grass to join 
them in the shadowless light of dawn. 
"Beldin and Durnik are discussing a very tired old philosophical 
question." Belgarath snorted. "If there's a noise . in the woods, and 


there's nobody around to hear it, is it really a noise?" 
"Of course it is," she replied calmly. "How did you reach that 
conclusion?" Beldin demanded. "Because there's no such thing as an 
empty place, uncle. There are always creatures around—wild animals, 
mice, insects, birds—and they can all hear." 
"But what if there weren't? What if the woods are truly empty?" 
"Why waste your time talking about an impossibility?" : He stared 
at her in frustration. 
f "Not only that," Ce'Nedra added just a bit smugly, ^"you're talking 
about woods, so there are trees there. Trees lean hear, too, you 
know." 
He glared at her. "Why are you all taking sides against me?" 
"Because you're wrong, uncle." Polgara smiled. "Wrong, Polgara?" He 
spluttered. "Me?" "It happens to everybody once in a while. Why don't 
we all have some breakfast?" 
The sun rose while they were eating, and Belgarath looked Op, 
squinting into the morning rays. "We haven't seen any soldiers since 
midnight," he said, "and all we've seen so fer are troops of the army 
of Peldane. They're not really .anything to worry about, so I think 
it's safe to ride on a e farther this morning." He looked at Silk. 
"How far is to the border of Darshiva?" 
*'Not really all that far, but we haven't been making very d time. 
It's spring, so the nights are getting shorter, and lose time when we 
have to circle around those troops." 
182 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
He frowned. "We might have a bit of a problem at the border, though. 
We're going to have to cross the River Ma-gan, and if everyone has 
fled the area, we could have some trouble finding a boat." 
"Is the Magan really as big as they say?" Sadi asked. 
"It's the biggest river in the world. It runs for a thousand leagues 
and more, and it's so wide that you can't see the far shore." 
Durnik rose to his feet. "I want to check over the horses before we 
go any farther," he said. "We've been riding them in the dark, and 
that's always a little dangerous. We don't want any of them pulling 
up lame." 
Eriond and Toth also rose, and the three of them went through the 
tall grass to the place where the horses were picketed. 
"I'll go on ahead," Beldin said. "Even if the troops are Peldanes, we 
still don't need any surprises." He changed form and flew off toward 
the west, spiraling up into the cloudless morning sky. 
Garion stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his 
elbows. 
"You must be tired," Ce'Nedra said, sitting beside him and touching 
his face tenderly. 
"Wolves don't really get that tired," he told her. "I get the feeling 


that I could run for a week if I really had to." 
"Well, you don't have to, so don't even consider it." 
"Yes, dear."
Sadi had risen to his feet with his red leather case in his hands. 
"As long as we're stopped, I think I'll find something to feed 
Zith," he said. A small frown touched his brow. "You know, Liselle," 
he said to Velvet, "I think you were right back in Zamad. She
definitely looks as if she's gained a few ounces." 
"Put her on a diet," the blond girl suggested. 
"I'm not sure about that." He smiled. "It's very hard to explain to a 
snake why you're starving her, and I wouldn't want her to get cross 
with me." 
They rode out not long afterward, following Toth's gestured 
directions. 
"He says that we can probably find a village south of the big town on
the river," Durnik told them. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
183
"Ferra," Silk supplied. 
"I suppose so. I haven't looked at a map for a while. Anyway, he says 
that there are quite a few villages on this side where we might be 
able to hire a boat to get us across to Darshiva." 
"That's assuming that they aren't all deserted," Silk added. 
Durnik shrugged. "We'll never know until we get there." 
It was a warm morning, and they rode across the rolling grasslands of 
southern Peldane under cloudless skies. About mid morn ing, Eriond 
rode forward and fell in beside Garion. "Do you think Polgara would 
mind if you and I took a little gallop?" he asked. "Maybe to that 
hill over there?" He pointed at a large knoll off to the north. 
"She probably would," Garion said, "unless we can come up with a good 
reason." 
"You don't think she'd accept the idea that Horse and Chretienne need 
to run once in a while?" 
"Eriond, you've known her for a long time. Do you really think she'd
listen if we tried to tell her that?" 
Eriond sighed. "No, I suppose not." 
Garion squinted at the hilltop. "We really ought to keep an eye out 
to the north, though," he said thoughtfully. "That's where the 
trouble's going to break out. We sort of need to know what's 
happening up there, don't we? That hilltop would be a perfect place 
to have a look." 
"That's very true, Belgarion." 
"It's not as if we'd actually be lying to her." 
"I wouldn't dream of lying to her." 
"Of course not. Neither would I." 
The two young men grinned at each other. "I'll tell Bel-garath where 



we're going," Garion said. "We'll let him explain it to her." 
"He's the perfect one to do it," Eriond agreed. 
Garion dropped back and touched his half-dozing grandfather's 
shoulder. "Eriond and I are going to ride over to that hill," he
said. "I want to see if there are any signs that the fighting's 
started yet."
"What? Oh, good idea." Belgarath yawned and closed his eyes again. 
184
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
Garion motioned to Eriond, and the two of them trotted off into the 
tall grass at the side of the trail. 
"Garion," Polgara called, "where are you going?" 
"Grandfather can explain it, Aunt Pol," he shouted back. "We'll catch 
up again in just a bit." He looked at Eriond. "Now let's get out of 
earshot in a hurry." 
They went north, first at a gallop and then at a dead run with the 
grass whipping at their horses' legs. The chestnut and the gray 
matched stride for stride, plunging along with their heads thrust far 
forward and their hooves pounding on the thick turf. Garion leaned 
forward in his saddle, surrendering to the flow and surge of 
Chretienne's muscles. Both he and Eriond were laughing with delight 
when they reined in on the hilltop.
"That was good," Garion said, swinging down from his saddle. "We 
don't get the chance to do that very often any more, do we?" 
"Not often enough," Eriond agreed, also dismounting. "You managed to 
arrange it very diplomatically, Belga-rion." 
"Of course. Diplomacy's what kings do best." 
"Do you think we fooled her?" 
"Us?" Garion laughed. "Fool Aunt Pol? Be serious, Eriond." 
"I suppose you're right." Eriond made a wry face. "She'll probably 
scold us, won't she?" 
"Inevitably, but the ride was worth a scolding, wasn't it?" 
Eriond smiled. Then he looked around, and his smile faded. 
"Belgarion," he said sadly, pointing to the north.
Garion looked. Tall columns of black smoke rose along the horizon. 
"It looks as if it's started," he said bleakly.
"Yes." Eriond sighed. "Why do they have to do that?" 
Garion crossed his arms on Chretienne's saddle and leaned his chin
pensively on them. "Pride, I suppose," he replied, "and the hunger
for power. Revenge, too, sometimes. I guess. Once in Arendia,
Lelldorin said that very often it's because people just don't know 
how to stop it, once it's started." 
"But it's all so senseless." 
"Of course it is. Arends aren't the only stupid people on
DAVID EDDINGS 
185



earth. Any time you have two people who both want the same thing 
badly enough, you're going to have a fight. If the two people have 
enough followers, they call it a war. If a couple of ordinary men 
have that kind of disagreement, there might be a broken nose and some
missing teeth, but when you start getting armies involved, people get 
killed." 
"Are you and Zakath going to have a war, then?" 
It was a troubling question, and Garion wasn't sure he knew the 
answer. "I don't really know," he admitted. 
"He wants to rule the world," Eriond pointed out, "and you don't want
him to. Isn't that the sort of thing that starts a war?" 
"It's awfully hard to say," Garion replied sadly. "Maybe if we hadn't 
left Mal Zeth when we did, I might have been able to bring him 
around. But we had to leave, so I lost the chance." He sighed. "I 
think it's finally going to be up to him. Maybe he's changed enough
so that he'll abandon the whole idea—but then again, maybe he hasn't. 
You can never tell with a man like Zakath. I hope he's given up the 
notion. I don't want a war—not with anybody; but I'm not going to bow 
to him, either. The world wasn't meant to be ruled by one man—and 
certainly not by somebody like Zakath." 
"But you like him, don't you?" 
"Yes, I do. I wish I could have met him before Taur Urgas ruined his 
life." He paused, and his face grew set. "Now there's a man I'd have
rather cheerfully gone to war with. He contaminated the whole world 
just by living in it."
"But it wasn't really his fault. He was insane, and that excuses
him." 
"You're a very forgiving young man, Eriond." 
"Isn't it easier to forgive than to hate? Until we learn how to
forgive, that sort of thing is going to keep on happening." He 
pointed at the tall pillars of smoke rising to the north. "Hate is a 
sterile thing, Belgarion." 
"I know." Garion sighed. "I hated Torak, but in the end I guess I
forgave him—more out of pity than anything else. I still had to kill
him, though." 
"What do you think the world would be like if people didn't kill each 
other any more?" 
"Nicer, probably." 
"Why don't we fix it that way then?"


SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"You and I?" Garion laughed. "All by ourselves?" 
"Why not?"
"Because it's impossible, Eriond." 
"I thought you and Belgarath had settled the issue of impossible a 
long time ago." 



Garion laughed again. "Yes, I suppose we did. All right, let's drop 
impossible. Would you accept extremely difficult instead?" 
"Nothing that's really worthwhile should be easy, Bel-garion. If it's 
easy, we don't value it; but I'm certain we'll be able to find an 
answer." He said it with such shining confidence in his face that for 
a moment Garion actually believed that the wild notion might indeed 
be feasible. 
Then he looked out at the ugly columns of smoke again, and the hope 
died. "I suppose we should go back and let the others know what's 
happening out there," he said. 
It was about noon when Beldin returned. "There's another detachment 
of troops about a mile ahead," he told Belgarath. "A dozen or so." 
"Are they going toward that battle to the north?" 
"No, I'd say this particular group is running away from it. They look 
as if they were fairly well mauled recently.'' 
"Could you tell which side they're on?" 
"That doesn't really matter, Belgarath. A man gives up his 
allegiances when he deserts." 
"Sometimes you're so clever you make me sick." 
"Why don't you have Pol mix you up something to cure it?" 
"How long has that been going on?" Velvet asked Pol-gara. 
"Which was that, dear?" 
"That constant wrangling between those two?" 
Polgara closed her eyes and sighed. "You wouldn't believe it, 
Liselle. Sometimes I think it started at about the beginning of 
time.'' 
The soldiers they encountered were wary, even frightened. They stood 
their ground, however, with their hands on their weapons. Silk made a 
quick motion to Garion, and the two of them rode forward at an 
unthreatening walk. 
"Good day, gentlemen," Silk greeted them conversationally. "What in 
the world is happening around here?** 
DAVID EDDINGS 
187 
"You mean you haven't heard?" a wiry fellow with a bloody bandage 
around his head asked. 
"I haven't found anybody to tell me," Silk replied. "What happened to 
all the people who used to live in this part of Peldane? We haven't 
seen a soul in the last four days." 
"They all fled," the bandaged man told him. "The ones who were still 
alive did, at any rate." 
"What were they fleeing from?" 
"Zandramas," the fellow replied with a shudder. "Her army marched 
into Peldane about a month ago. We tried to stop them, but they had 
Grolims with them, and ordinary troops can't do much against 
Grolims." 


"That's the truth, certainly. What's all that smoke up to the north?" 
"There's a big battle going on." The soldier sat down on the ground 
and began to unwind the bloodstained bandage from around his head. 
"It's not like any battle I've ever seen," another soldier supplied. 
His left arm was in a sling, and he looked as if he had just spent 
several days lying in the mud. "I've been in a few wars, but nothing 
like this. When you're a soldier, you takes your chances—swords and 
arrows and spears and the like, y'know—but when they starts throwing 
horrors at me, I begins to feel it's time to find another line of 
work." 
"Horrors?" Silk asked him. 
"They's got demons with 'em, friend—both sides of 'em has—monstrous 
big demons with snaky arms and fangs and claws and suchlike." 
"You're not serious!" 
"I seen 'em with my own eyes. You ever seen a man get et alive? Makes 
your hair stand on end, it does." 
"I don't quite follow this," Silk confessed. "Who's involved in this 
battle? I mean, ordinary armies don't keep tame demons with them to 
help with the fighting." 
"That's the honest truth," the muddy man agreed. "A ordinary 
soldier's likely to leave the service if they expect him to march 
alongside something mat looks at him as if he was something to eat. I 
never did get the straight of it, though." He looked at the man with 
the wounded head. "Did you ever find out who was fighting, Corporal?" 
188 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
The corporal was wrapping a clean bandage around his head. "The 
captain told us before he got killed," he said. 
"Maybe you'd better start at the beginning," Silk said. "I*m a little 
confused about this." 
"Like I told you," the corporal said, "about a month ago the 
Darshivans and their Grolims invaded Peldane. Me and my men are in 
the Royal Army of Peldane, so we tried to hold them back. We slowed 
them some on the east bank of the Magan, but then the Grolims come at 
us, and we had to retreat. Then we heard that there was another army 
coming down out of the north—Karands and soldiers in armor and more 
Grolims. We figured that we was really in for it at that point, but 
as it turns out, this new army isn't connected with the Darshivans. 
It seems that it's working for some High Grolim from way off to the 
west. Well, this Gro-lim, he sets up along the coast and don't come 
inland at all. It's like he's waiting for something. We had our hands 
full with the Darshivans, so we wasn't too interested in what it was 
he was waiting for. We was doing a lot of what our officers called 
'maneuvering'—which is officer talk for running away.'' 
"I take it that the Grolim finally decided to come inland after 
all," Silk observed. 


"He surely did, friend. He surely did. It was just a few days ago 
when he struck inland just as straight as a tight string. Either he 
knew exactly where he was going or he was following something, I 
don't know exactly which. Anyway, the Darshivans, they stopped 
chasing us and rushed in to try to block his way, and that's when he 
called in the demons Vurk here was talking about. At first, the 
demons charged right through the Darshivans, but then their 
Grolims—or maybe it was Zandramas herself—they conjured up their 
demons, and that's when the big fight commenced. The demons, they 
went at each other for all they was worth and they trampled over 
anybody unlucky enough to get in the way. There we was, caught right 
in the middle of it all and getting trampled on by first one set of 
demons and then the other. That's when me and Vurk and these others 
put our heads together and decided to find out what the weather's 
like in Gandahar." 
"Hot this time of year," Silk told him. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
189 
"Not near as hot as it is north of here, friend. You ever see a demon 
breathe fire? I seen one of them armored soldiers get roasted alive 
right inside his chain mail. Then the demon picked him out of his 
armor piece by piece and et him while he was still smoking." The 
corporal knotted the ends of his fresh bandage. "That ought to hold 
it," he said, rising to his feet again. He looked up into the noon 
sky, squinting slightly. "We can make some more miles before the sun 
goes down, Vurk," he said to his muddy friend. "Get the men ready to 
march. If that battle starts to spread out, we could get caught in 
the middle of it again, and none of us want that." 
"I'll do 'er, Corporal," Vurk replied. 
The corporal looked at Silk again, his eyes narrowed ap-praisingly. 
"You and your friends are welcome to come along," he offered. "A few 
men on horseback might be a help in case we run into trouble." 
"Thanks all the same, Corporal," Silk declined, "but I think we'll 
ride over to the Magan and see if we can find a boat. We could be at 
the mouth of the river in a week or so." 
"I'd advise riding hard, then, my friend. Demons can run awful fast 
when they're hungry." 
Silk nodded. "Good luck in Gandahar, Corporal," he added. 
"I think I'll stop being a corporal," the fellow said ruefully. "The 
pay wasn't bad, but the work's getting danger-ouser and dangerouser, 
and all the pay in the world won't do a man much good once he takes 
up residence inside a demon." He turned to his friend. "Let's move 
out, Vurk," he ordered. 
Silk wheeled his horse and rode back to where the others were 
waiting, Garion close behind him. 
"It's more or less what we thought," the little man reported, 


dismounting. "The battle up north is between Ur-von and Zandramas, 
and both sides have demons now." 
"She went that far?" Polgara asked incredulously. 
"She didn't really have that much choice, Polgara," Silk told her. 
"Nahaz was leading his hordes of demons into the ranks of her troops, 
and her army was being decimated. She 
190 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
had to do something to stop him. Being captured by a demon is no 
joke—not even for the Child of Dark." 
"All right," Durnik said soberly, "what do we do now?" 
"The corporal in charge of those troops made an interesting 
suggestion," Silk told him. 
"Oh? What was that?" 
"He recommended that we get out of Peldane as fast as we possibly 
can." 
"Corporals usually have good sense," Durnik noted. "Why don't we 
follow his advice?" 
"I was hoping someone would say that," Silk agreed. 
CHAPTER TWELVE 
Vella was feeling melancholy. It was an unusual emotion for her, but 
she found that she rather liked it. There was much to be said for 
sweet, languorous sadness. She went with quiet dignity through the 
stately, marble-clad corridors of the palace in Boktor, and everyone 
gave way to her pensive expression. She chose not to consider the 
fact mat her daggers may have played a certain part in this universal 
respect. In point of fact, Vella had not drawn a dagger on anyone for 
almost a week now—the last having been a slightly overfamiliar 
serving man who had mistaken her bluff camaraderie for an offer of a 
more intimate friendship. But she had not hurt him very much, and he 
had forgiven her almost before the bleeding had stopped. 
Her destination that early morning was the sitting room of the Queen 
of Drasnia. In many ways Queen Porenn baf- 
191 
192 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
fled Vella. She was petite and imperturbable. She carried no daggers 
and seldom raised her voice, but all of Drasnia and the other Alorn 
kingdoms held her in universal regard. Vella herself, not knowing 
exactly why, had acceded to the tiny queen's suggestion that she 
should customarily garb herself in gowns of lavender satin. A gown is 
a cumbersome thing that tangles up one's legs and confines one's 
bosom. Always before, Vella had preferred black leather trousers, 
boots, and a leather vest. The garb was comfortable and utilitarian. 
It was sturdy, and yet it provided opportunities for Vella to display 
her attributes to those whom she wished to impress. Then, on special 


occasions, she had customarily donned an easily discardable wool
dress and a fine diaphanous undergown of rose-colored Mallorean silk
that clung to her as she danced. Satin, on the other hand, rustled 
disturbingly, but felt good against her skin, and it made Vella 
uncomfortably aware of the fact that there was more to being a woman 
than a couple pair of daggers and a willingness to use them. 
She tapped lightly on Porenn's door. 
"Yes?" Porenn's voice came to her. 
Did the woman never sleep? 
"It's me, Porenn—Vella."
"Come in, child." 
Vella set her teeth. She was not, after all, a child. She had been 
abroad in the world since her twelfth birthday. She had been sold—and 
bought—a half-dozen times, and she had been married for a brief, 
deliriously happy year to a lean Nadrak trapper named Tekk, whom she 
had loved to distraction. Porenn, however, seemed to prefer to look
upon her as some half-gentled colt in sore need of training. In spite 
of herself, that thought softened Vella's resentment. The little 
blond Queen of Drasnia had in some strange way become the mother she 
had never known, and thoughts of daggers and of being bought and sold
slid away under the influence of that wise, gentle voice. 
"Good morning, Vella," Porenn said as the Nadrak girl entered her 
room. "Would you like some tea?" Although the queen always wore black
in public, her dressing gown that morning was of the palest rose, and
she looked somehow very vulnerable in that soft color. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
193
"Hullo, Porenn," Vella said. "No tea, thanks." She flung herself into 
a chair beside the blond queen's divan. 
"Don't flop, Vella," Porenn told her. "Ladies don't flop." 
"I'm not a lady." 
"Not yet, perhaps, but I'm working on it." 
"Why are you wasting your time on me, Porenn?" 
"Nothing worthwhile is ever a waste of time." 
"Me? Worthwhile?"
"More than you could possibly know. You're early this morning. Is 
something troubling you?" 
"I haven't been able to sleep. I've been having the strangest dreams
lately.''
"Don't let dreams bother you, child. Dreams are sometimes the past, 
sometimes the future, but mostly they're only that—dreams." 
"Please don't call me 'child,' Porenn," Vella objected. "I think if 
we got right down to it, I'm almost as old as you are." 
"In years, perhaps, but years aren't the only way to measure time." 
There was a discreet rap at the door. 
"Yes?" Porenn replied.



"It's me, your Majesty," a familiar voice said. 
"Come in, Margrave Khendon," the queen said.
Javelin had not changed since Vella had last seen him. He was still
bone-thin and aristocratic and had a sardonically amused twist to his 
lips. He wore, as was his custom, a pearl-gray doublet and tightfitting 
black hose. His skinny shanks were not shown to any 
particular advantage by the latter. He bowed rather extravagantly.
"Your Majesty," he greeted the queen, "and my Lady Vella." 
"Don't be insulting, Javelin," Vella retorted. "I don't have a title, 
so don't 'my Lady' me." 
"Haven't you told her yet?" Javelin mildly asked the queen.
"I'm saving it for her birthday." 
"What's this?" Vella demanded. 
"Be patient, dear," Porenn told her. "You'll find out 'about your 
title all in due time." 
"I don't need a Drasnian title." 
194
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 


* 'Everybody needs a title, dear—even if it's only 'ma'am.' " 
"Has she always been like this?" Vella bluntly asked the Chief of 
Drasnian Intelligence. 
"She was a little more ingenuous when she still had her baby teeth," 
Javelin replied urbanely, "but she got to be more fun when she 
developed her fangs." 
"Be nice, Khendon," Porenn told him. "How was Rak Urga?" 
"Ugly—but then, most Murgo cities are." 
"And how is King Urgit?" 
"Newly married, your Majesty, and a little distracted by the novelty 
of it." 
Porenn made a face. "I didn't send a gift," she fretted.
"I took the liberty of attending to that, your Majesty," Javelin 
said. "A rather nice silver service I picked up in Tol Honeth—at a 
bargain price, of course. I have this limited budget, you 
understand." 
She gave him a long, unfriendly look. 
"I left the bill with your chamberlain," he added with not even the 
faintest trace of embarrassment. 
"How are the negotiations going?" 
"Surprisingly well, my queen. The King of the Murgos seems not to
have yet succumbed to the hereditary disorder of the House of Urga. 
He's very shrewd, actually." 
"I somehow thought he might be," Porenn replied just a bit smugly. 
"You're keeping secrets, Porenn," Javelin accused. 
"Yes. Women do that from time to time. Are the Mal-lorean agents in 
the Drojim keeping abreast of things?" 
"Oh, yes." Javelin smiled. "Sometimes we have to be a little obvious 

in order to make sure that they're getting the point, but they're 
more or less fully aware of the progress of the negotiations. We seem
to be making them a bit apprehensive." 
"You made good time on your return voyage." 
Javelin shuddered slightly. "King Anheg put a ship at our disposal. 
Her captain is that pirate Greldik-1 made the mistake of telling him
I was in a hurry. The passage through the Bore was ghastly."
There was another polite knock on the door. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
195
"Yes?" Porenn answered. 
A servant opened the door. "The Nadrak Yarblek is here again, your
Majesty," he reported. 
"Show him in, please." 
Yarblek had a tight look on his face that Vella recognized all too 
well. Her owner was in many respects a transparent man. He pulled off 
his shabby fur cap. "Good morning, Porenn," he said without ceremony, 
tossing the cap into a corner. "Have you got anything to drink? IVe 
been in the saddle for five days and I'm perishing of thirst."
"Over there." Porenn pointed at a sideboard near the window. 
Yarblek grunted, crossed the room, and filled a large goblet from a 
crystal decanter. He took a long drink. "Javelin,*' he said then, 
"have you got any people in Yar Nadrak?" 
"A few," Javelin admitted cautiously. 
"You'd better have them keep an eye on Drosta. He's up to something." 
"He's always up to something." 
"That's no lie, but this might be a little more serious. He's
reopened lines of communication with Mal Zeth. He and Zakath haven't 
been on speaking terms since he changed sides at Thull Mardu, but now 
they're talking again. I don't like the smell of it." 
"Are you sure? None of my people have reported it." 
"They're probably in the palace, then. Drosta doesn't conduct serious 
business there. Have them go to a riverside tavern in the thieves'
quarter. It's called the One-Eyed Dog. Drosta goes there to amuse 
himself. The emissary from Mal Zeth's been meeting with him in an 
upstairs room there— that's when Drosta can drag himself away from
the girls." 
"I'll put some people on it right away. Could you get any idea at all 
of what they're discussing?"
Yarblek shook his head and dropped wearily into a chair. 
"Drosta's ordered his guards to keep me out of the place." 
He looked at Vella. "You're looking a little pecky this
morning," he observed. "Did you drink too much last
Inight?" 
"I almost never get drunk any more," she told him. r "I knew it was a 
mistake to leave you here in Boktor," 



196 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
197 
he said glumly. "Porenn's a corrupting influence. Did you get over 
your irritation with me yet?" 
"I suppose so. It's not really your fault that you're stupid." 
"Thanks." He looked her up and down appraisingly. "I like the 
dress," he told her. "It makes you look more like a woman, for a 
change." 
"Did you ever have any doubts, Yarblek?" she asked him archly. 
Adiss, the Chief Eunuch in the palace of Eternal Sal-missra, received 
the summons early that morning and he approached the throne room with 
fear and trembling. The queen had been in a peculiar mood of late, 
and Adiss painfully remembered the fate of his predecessor. He 
entered the dimly lit throne room and prostrated himself before the 
dais. 
"The Chief Eunuch approaches the throne," the adoring chorus intoned 
in unison. Even though he himself had been until recently a member of 
that chorus, Adiss found their mouthing of the obvious irritating. 
The queen dozed on her divan, her mottled coils moving restlessly 
with the dry hiss of scales rubbing against each other. She opened 
her soulless serpent's eyes and looked at him, her forked tongue 
flickering. "Well?" she said peevishly in the dusty whisper that 
always chilled his blood. 
"Y-you summoned me, Divine Salmissra," he faltered. 
"I'm aware of that, you idiot. Do not irritate me, Adiss. I'm on the 
verge of going into molt, and that always makes me short-tempered. I 
asked you to find out what the Alorns are up to. I am waiting for 
your report." 
"I haven't been able to find out very much, my Queen." 
"That is not the answer I wanted to hear, Adiss," she told him 
dangerously. "Is it possible that the duties of your office are 
beyond your capabilities?" 
Adiss began to tremble violently. "I-I've sent for Drob-lek, your 
Majesty—the Drasnian Port Authority here in Sthiss Tor. I thought he 
might be able to shed some light on the situation." 
"Perhaps so." Her tone was distant, and she gazed at her reflection 
in the mirrior. "Summon the Tolnedran Ambassador 
as well. Whatever the Alorns are doing in Cthol Mur-gos also 
involves Varana." 
"Forgive me, Divine Salmissra," Adiss said, feeling a trifle 
confused, "but why should the activities of the Alorns and Tolnedrans 
concern us?" 
She swung her head about slowly, her sinuous neck weaving in the air. 
"Are you a total incompetent, Adiss?" she asked him. "We may not like 


it, but Nyissa is a part of the world, and we must always know what 
our neighbors are doing—and why." She paused, her tongue nervously 
tasting the air. "There is a game of some kind afoot, and I want to 
find out exactly what it is before I decide whether or not to become 
involved in it." She paused again. "Have you ever found out what 
happened to that one-eyed fellow, Is-sus?" 
"Yes, your Majesty. He was recruited by Drasnian intelligence. At 
last report, he was in Rak Urga with the Alorn negotiators." 
"How very curious. I think this entire business is reaching the point 
where I must have detailed information—and very, very soon. Do not 
fail me, Adiss. Your position is not all that secure, you know. Now 
you may kiss me." She lowered her head, and he stumbled to the dais 
to touch his cringing lips to her cold forehead. 
"Very well, Adiss," she said. "Leave now." And she went back to 
gazing at her reflection in the mirror. 
King Nathel of Mishrak ac Thull was a slack-lipped, dull-eyed young 
man with lank, mud-colored hair and a profound lack of anything even 
remotely resembling intelligence. His royal robes were spotted and 
wrinkled, and his crown did not fit him. It rested atop his ears and 
quite often slid down over his eyes. 
Agachak, the cadaverous Hierarch of Rak Urgo, could not stand the 
young King of the Thulls, but he forced himself to be civil to him 
during their current discussions. Civility was not one of Agachak's 
strong points. He much ^-preferred peremptory commands backed up by 
threats of £ dreadful retribution for failure to comply, but a 
careful as-aessment of Nathel's personality had persuaded him that 
the Thull would collapse on the spot if he were suddenly 
198 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
given any kind of threat or ultimatum. And so it was that Agachak was 
forced to rely on cajolery and wheedling instead. 
"The prophecy clearly states, your Majesty," he tried again, "that 
whichever king accompanies me to the place of the meeting will become 
Overking of all of Angarak.'' 
"Does that mean I get Cthol Murges and Gar og Nadrak, too?" Nathel 
asked, a faint glimmer coming into his uncomprehending eyes. 
"Absolutely, your Majesty," Agachak assured him, "and Mallorea as 
well." 
"Won't that make Kal Zakath unhappy with me? I wouldn't want him to 
feel that way. He had my father flogged once, did you know that? He 
was going to crucify him, but there weren't any trees around." 
"Yes, I'd heard about that, but you don't have to worry. Zakath would 
have to genuflect to you." 
"Zakath genuflect—to me?" Nathel laughed. It was a sound 
frighteningly devoid of thought. 
"He would have no choice, your Majesty. If he were to refuse, the New 


God would blast him to atoms on the spot.'' 
"What's an atom?" 
Agachak ground his teeth. "A very small piece, your Majesty," he 
explained. 
"I wouldn't mind making Urgit and Drosta bow to me," Nathel 
confessed, "but I don't know about Zakath. Urgit and Drosta think 
they're so smart. I'd like to take them down a peg or two. Zakath, 
though—I don't know about that." His eyes brightened again. "That 
means I'd get all the gold in Cthol Murgos and Gar og Nadrak, doesn't 
it? And I could make them dig it out of the ground for me, too." His 
crown slipped down over his eyes again, and he tilted his head back
so that he could peer out from under its rim.
"And you'd get all the gold in Mallorea, too, and the jewels, and the 
silks and carpets—and they'd even give you your own elephant to 
ride." 
"What's an elephant?" 
"It's a very large animal, your Majesty." 
"Bigger than a horse, even?" 
"Much bigger. Besides, you'd also get Tolnedra and you 
DAVID EDDINGS 
199
know how much money they've got. You'd be the king of the world." 
"Even bigger than an ox? I've seen some awful big oxes sometimes." 
"Ten times as big." 
Nathel smiled happily. "I bet that would make people sit up and take 
notice." 
"Absolutely, your Majesty." 
"What is it I have to do again?" 
"You must go with me to the Place Which Is No More." 
"That's the part I don't understand. How can we go there if it's not 
there any more?" 
"The prophecy will reveal that to us in time, your Majesty." 
"Oh. I see. Have you got any idea about where it is?" 
"The clues I've been getting indicate that it's somewhere in 
Mallorea." 
Nathel's face suddenly fell. "Now that's a real shame," he said 
petulantly. 
"I don't quite—" 
"I'd really like to go with you, Agachak. Truly I would— what with
all the gold and carpets and silks and stuff—and making Urgit and
Drosta and maybe even Zakath bow down to me and all, but I just
can't." 
"I don't understand. Why not?" 
"I'm not allowed to leave home. My mother'd punish me something awful 
if I did. You know how that goes. I couldn't even think of going as 
far away as Mallorea."



"But you're the king." 
"That doesn't change a thing. I still do what mother says. She tells 
everybody that I'm the best boy ever when it conies to that." 
Agachak resisted a powerful urge to change this half-wit into a toad 
or perhaps a jellyfish. "Why don't I talk with your mother?" he 
suggested. "I'm sure I can persuade her ;to give you her permission." 
:-• "Why, that's a real, real good idea, Agachak. If mother nys 
it's all right, I'll go with you quick as lightning." ; "Good," 
Agachak said, turning. 
"Oh, Agachak?" Nathel's voice sounded puzzled. 
200 SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"Yes?" 
"What's a prophecy?" 
They had gathered at Vo Mandor, far from the watchful eyes of their 
kings, to discuss something that was very private and very urgent. It 
was also just a trifle on the disobedient side, and there is a very 
ugly word men use to describe those who disobey their kings. 
Barak was there, and also Hettar, Mandorallen, and Lell-dorin. Relg 
had just arrived from Maragor, and Barak's son Unrak sat on a highbacked 
bench by the window. 
The Earl of Trellheim cleared his throat by way of calling them to 
order. They had gathered in the tower of Mandor-alien's keep, and the 
golden autumn sunlight streamed in through the arched window. Barak 
was huge and resplendent in a green velvet doublet. His red beard was 
combed, and his hair was braided. "All right," he rumbled, "let's get 
started. Mandorallen, are you sure the stairway leading up here is 
guarded? I wouldn't want anybody to overhear us." 
"Of a certainty, my Lord of Trellheim," the great knight replied 
earnestly. "I vouchsafe it upon my life to thee." Mandorallen wore 
mail and his silver-trimmed blue surcoat. 
"A simple yes would have been enough, Mandorallen." Barak sighed. 
"Now," he continued briskly, "weVe been forbidden to ride along with 
Garion and the others, right?" 
"That's what Cyradis said at Rheon," Hettar replied softly. He wore 
his usual black horsehide, and his scalplock was caught in a silver 
ring. He lounged in a chair with his long legs thrust far out in 
front of him. 
"All right, then," Barak continued. "We can't go with them, but 
there's nothing to stop us from going to Mallorea on business of our 
own, is there?" 
"What kind of business?" Lelldorin asked blankly. 
"We'll think of something. I've got a ship. We'll run on down to Tot 
Honeth and load her with a cargo of some kind. Then we'll go to 
Mallorea and do some trading." 
"How do you plan to get the Seabird across to the Sea of the East?" 
Hettar asked. "That could be a long portage, don't you think?" 


Barak winked broadly. "I've got a map," he said. "We 
DAVID EDDINGS 
201 
can sail around the southern end of Cthol Murgos and right on into 
the eastern sea. From there to Mallorea is nothing at all." 
"I thought the Murgos were very secretive about maps of their 
coastline," Lelldorin said, a frown creasing his open young face. 
"They are," Barak grinned, "but Javelin's been in Rak Urga and he 
managed to steal one." 
"How did you get it away from Javelin?" Hettar asked. "He's even more 
secretive than the Murgos." 
"He sailed back to Boktor aboard Greldik's ship. Javelin's not a good 
sailor, so he wasn't feeling very well. Greldik pinched the map and 
had his cartographer make a copy. Javelin never even knew he'd been 
robbed." 
"Thy plan is excellent, my Lord," Mandorallen said gravely, "but 
methinks I detect a flaw." 
"Oh?" 
"As all the world knows, Mallorea is a vast continent, thousands of 
leagues across and even more thousands from the south to the polar 
ice of the far north. It could well take us our lifetimes to locate 
our friends, for I perceive that to be the thrust of thy proposal." 
Barak slyly laid one finger aside his nose. "I was just coming to 
that," he said. "When we were in Boktor, I got Yarblek drunk. He's 
shrewd enough when he's sober, but once you get a half keg of ale 
into him, he gets talkative. I asked him a few questions about the 
operation of the business he and Silk are running in Mallorea, and I 
got some very useful answers. It seems that the two of them have 
offices in every major city in Mallorea, and those offices keep in 
constant touch with each other. No matter what else he's doing, 
Silk's going to keep an eye on his business interests. Every time he 
gets near one of those offices, he'll find some excuse to stop by to 
see how many millions he's made in the past week." 
"That's Silk, all right," Hettar agreed. 
"All we have to do is drop anchor in some Mallorean seaport and look 
up the little thief's office. His people will know approximately 
where he is, and where Silk is, you're going to find the others." 
"My Lord," Mandorallen apologized, "I have wronged 
202 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
203 
thee. Canst thou forgive me for underestimating thy shrewdness?" 
"Perfectly all right, Mandorallen," Barak replied magnanimously. 
"But," Lelldorin protested, "we're still forbidden to join Garion and 
the others." 


"Truly," Mandorallen agreed. "We may not approach them lest we doom
their quest to failure." 
"I think I've worked that part out, too," the big man said. "We can't
ride along with them, but Cyradis didn't say anything about how far 
we have to stay away from them, did she? All we're going to be doing 
is minding our own business—a league or so away—or maybe a mile. 
We'll be close enough so that if they get into any kind of trouble, 
we'll be able to lend a hand and then be on our way again. There's 
nothing wrong with that, is there?" 
Mandorallen's face came suddenly alight. " Tis a duty, my Lord," he 
exclaimed, "a moral obligation. The Gods look with great disfavor
upon those who fail to come to the aid of travelers in peril." 
"Somehow I knew you'd see it that way," Barak said, slapping his 
friend on the shoulder with one huge hand. 
"Sophistry," Relg said with a note of finality in his harsh voice. 
The UIgo zealot now wore a tunic that looked very much like the one 
Durnik customarily wore. His once-pale skin was now sun-browned, and 
he no longer wore a cloth across his eyes. The years of working out 
of doors near the house he had built for Taiba and their horde of 
children had gradually accustomed his skin and eyes to sunlight. 
"What do you mean, sophistry?" Barak protested.
"Just what I said, Barak. The Gods look at our intent, not our clever
excuses. You want to go to Mallorea to aid Belgarion—we all do—but
don't try to fool the Gods with these trumped-up stories." 
They all stared at the zealot helplessly. 
"But it was such a good plan," Barak said plaintively. 
"Very good," Relg agreed, "but it's disobedient, and disobedience of
the Gods—and of prophecy—is sin."
"Sin again, Relg?" Barak said in disgust. "I thought you'd gotten 
over that." 
"Not entirely, no." 
Barak's son Unrak, who at fourteen was already as big as a grown man, 
rose to his feet. He wore a mail shirt and had a sword belted at his 
side. His hair was flaming red, and his downy beard had already begun
to cover his cheeks. "Let's see if I've got this right," he said. 
Unrak's voice no longer cracked and warbled, but had settled into a 
resonant baritone. "We have to obey the prophecy, is that it?"
"To the letter," Relg said firmly. 
"Then I have to go to Mallorea," Unrak said. 
"That went by a little fast," his father said to him.
"It's not really all that complicated, father. I'm the hereditary
protector of the heir to the Rivan Throne, aren't I?" 
"He's got a point there," Hettar said. "Go ahead, Unrak. Tell us what 
you've got in mind." 
"Well," the young man said, blushing slightly under the scrutiny of 
his elders, "if Prince Geran's in Mallorea and in danger, I have to



go there. The prophecy says so. Now, I don't know where he is, so I'm 
going to have to follow King Belgarion until he finds his son so that 
I can protect him." 
Barak grinned broadly at his son. 
"But," Unrak added, "I'm a little inexperienced at this protection 
business, so I might need a little guidance. Do you suppose, father, 
that I might be able to persuade you and your friends to come with 
me? Just to keep me from making any mistakes, you understand." 
Hettar rose and shook Barak's hand. "Congratulations," he said 
simply. 
"Well, Relg," Barak said, "does that satisfy your sense of 
propriety?" 
Relg considered it. "Why yes," he said, "as a matter of &et, I think 
it does." Then he grinned the first grin Barak had ever seen on his 
harsh face. "When do we leave?" he asked. 
; His Imperial Majesty, Kal Zakath of Mallorea, stood at . fk.window 
in a high tower in Maga Renn, looking out at the expanse of the great 
River Magan. A huge armada of craft of all sizes dotted the surface 
of the river up-of the city and moved down in orderly progression 
204 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
to the wharves where the imperial regiments waited to embark. 
"Have you had any further news?" the Emperor asked. 
"Things are a bit chaotic down there, your Imperial Majesty," Brador, 
the brown-robed Chief of the Bureau of Internal Affairs, reported, 
"but it appears that the major confrontation between Urvon and 
Zandramas is going to take place in Peldane. Urvon has been moving 
down from the north, and Zandramas annexed Peldane last month to put 
a buffer between him and Darshiva. She's been rushing her forces into 
Peldane to meet him." 
"What's your assessment, Atesca?" Zakath asked. 
General Atesca rose and went to the map hanging on the wall. He 
studied it for a moment, then stabbed one blunt finger at it. "Here, 
your Majesty," he said, "the town of Ferra. We move down in force and 
occupy that place. It's a logical forward base of operations. The 
River Magan is about fifteen miles wide at that point, and it 
shouldn't be too difficult to interdict any further movement across 
it from Darshiva. That will eliminate Zandramas' reinforcements. 
Urvon will have numerical superiority when they meet, and he'll crush 
her army. He'll take casualties, though. Both sides are fanatics, and 
they'll fight to the death. After he wipes out Zandramas' army, he'll 
stop to lick his wounds. That's when we should hit him. He'll be 
weakened, and his troops will be exhausted. Ours will be fresh. The 
outcome ought to be fairly predictable. Then we can cross the Magan 
and mop up in Darshiva." 


"Excellent, Atesca," Zakath said, a faint smile touching his cold 
lips, "There's a certain ironic charm to your plan. First we have 
Urvon eliminate Zandramas for us, then we eliminate him. I like the 
idea of having the Disciple of Torak do my dirty work for me." 
"With your Majesty's permission, I'd like to lead the forward 
elements and oversee the occupation of Ferra," the general said. 
"Zandramas will almost have to counterattack, since we'll have cut 
her army in two. We'll need to fortify the town. I'll also need to 
put out patrols on the river to keep her from trying to slip her 
troops into Peldane around our flanks. It's a fairly crucial part of 
the operation, and I'd like to supervise it myself." 
205 
I 
"By all means, Atesca," Zakath gave his consent, wouldn't really 
trust anyone else to do it anyway." 
Atesca bowed. "Your Majesty is very kind," he said. 
"If I may, your Imperial Majesty," Brador said, "we're getting some 
disturbing reports from Cthol Murgos. Our agents there report that 
there are some fairly serious negotiations going on between Urgit and 
the Alorns." 
"The Murgos and the Alorns?" Zakath asked incredulously. "They've 
hated each other for eons." 
"Perhaps they've found a common cause," Brador suggested delicately. 
"Me, you mean?" 
"It does seem logical, your Majesty." ; **We have to put a stop to 
that. I think we'll have to attack the Alorns. Give them something 
close to home to worry •bout so they won't have time for any 
adventures in Cthol Murgos." 
Atesca cleared his throat. "May I speak bluntly, your Majesty?" he 
asked. 
"IVe never heard you speak any other way, Atesca. What's on your 
mind?" 
"Only an idiot tries to fight a war on two fronts, and only ft madman 
tries to fight one on three. You have this war here in Peldane, 
another in Cthol Murgos, and now you're contemplating a third in 
Aloria. I advise against it in the strong-eat possible terms." 
Zakath smiled wryly. "You're a brave man, Atesca," he said. "I can't 
recall the last time somebody called me an idiot and a madman in the 
same breath." ?; *'I trust your Majesty will forgive my candor, but 
that's my honest opinion of the matter." 
"That's all right, Atesca." Zakath waved one hand as if brushing it 
aside. "You're here to advise me, not to flatter »e, and your plain 
language definitely got my attention. 3§Sty well, we'll hold off on 
going to war with the Alorns !yJHal we finish up here. I'll go as far 
as idiocy; lunacy is ipmething else. The world had enough of that 
with Taur ." He began to pace up and down. "Curse you, Bel->!" he 


burst out suddenly. "What are you up to?" 1—your Majesty," Brador 
interposed diffidently, 
206 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
207 
"Belgarion isn't in the West. He was seen just last week in Melcena." 
"What's he doing in Melcena?" 
"We weren't able to determine that, your Majesty. It's fairly certain 
that he left the islands, however. We think that he's somewhere in 
this general vicinity." 
"Adding to the confusion, no doubt. Keep an eye out for him, Atesca. 
I really want to have a long talk with that young man. He stalks 
through the world like a natural disaster." 
"I'll make a point of trying to locate him for your Majesty," Atesca 
replied. "Now, with your Majesty's permission, I'd like to go 
supervise die loading of the troops." 
"How long is it going to take you to get to Ferra?" 
"Perhaps three or four days, your Majesty. I'll put the troops to 
manning the oars." 
"They won't like that." 
"They don't have to like it, your Majesty." 
"All right, go ahead. I'll be along a few days behind you." 
Atesca saluted and turned to go. 
"Oh, by the way, Atesca," Zakath said as an afterthought, "why don't 
you take a kitten on your way out?" He pointed at a number of 
prowling, half-grown cats on the for side of the room. His own 
mackerel-striped tabby was perched high on the mantelpiece with a 
slightly harried expression on her face. 
"Ah . . ." Atesca hesitated. "I'm overwhelmed with gratitude, your 
Majesty, but cat fur makes my eyes swell shut, and I think 1*11 need 
my eyes during die next few weeks." 
Zakath sighed. "I understand, Atesca," he said. "That will be all." 
The general bowed and left the room. 
Zakath considered it. "Well," he said, "if he won't take a kitten, I 
suppose we'll have to give him a field marshal's baton instead—but 
only if this campaign of his is successful, you understand." 
"Perfectly, your Majesty," Brador murmured. 
unmitigated ass and he had to be led by the hand through -,the 
ceremony. When it was over, Zandramas installed him OH an ornate 
throne in the palace at Hemil and left instructions that he be 
flattered and fawned over. Then she quietly 
tea. 
Prince Geran was in the simple room Zandramas had chosen for herself 
in the temple. A middle-aged Grolim priestess had been watching over 
him. "He's been very good this morning, Holy Zandramas," the 


priestess advised. 
"Good, bad—what difference does it make?" Zandramas shrugged. "You 
can go now." 
"Yes, Holy Priestess." The middle-aged woman genuflected and left the 
room. 
Prince Geran looked at Zandramas with a grave expression on his 
little face. 
"You're quiet this morning, your Highness," Zandramas said 
ironically. 
The child's expression did not change. Though they had been together 
for over a year, Geran had never shown the slightest sign of 
affection for her and, perhaps even more disturbing, he had never 
shown fear either. He held up one of his toys. "Ball," he said. 
"Yes," she replied, "I suppose so." Then, perhaps because his 
penetrating gaze disturbed her, she crossed the mom to stand before 
her mirror. She pushed back her hood and gazed intendy at her 
reflection. It had not touched her bee yet. That was something at 
least. She looked with dis-tMte at die whirling, sparkling lights 
beneath die skin of her lands. Then, quite deliberately, she opened 
the front of her robe and gazed at her nude reflection. It was 
spreading, Ifcere could be no question about that. Her breasts and 
belly also underlaid with those selfsame whirling points of 
Geran had come silendy up to stand beside her. "Stars," Mid, pointing 
at the mirror. 
*Just go play, Geran," the Child of Dark told him, clos-faer robe. 
The coronation of die Archduke Otrath as Emperor of Mallorea went off 
quite smoothly. Otrath, of course, was an 
DAVID EDDINGS 
209 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
As they rode west that afternoon, they could see a heavy, dark purple 
cloudbank building up ahead of them, rising higher and higher and 
blotting out the blue of the sky. Finally Durnik rode forward. "Toth 
says that we'd better find shelter," he told Belgarath. "These spring 
storms in this part of the world are savage,'' 
Belgarath shrugged. "I've been rained on before." "He says that the 
storm won't last long," Durnik said, "but it's going to be very 
intense. It should blow through by morning. I really think we should 
listen to him, Belgarath. It's not only the rain and wind. He says 
that there's usually hail as well, and the hailstones can be as big 
as apples." 
Belgarath peered toward the blue-black clouds towering up into the 
western sky with lightning bolts staggering down 
208 
from their centers. "All right," he decided. "We wouldn't be able to 
go much farther today anyway. Does he know of ; any shelter nearby?" 


"There's a farm village a league or so ahead," Durnik 'told him. "If 
it's like the others we've passed, there won't be anybody there. We 
ought to be able to find a house with enough roof left to keep the 
hailstones off our heads." 
"Let's aim for there then. That storm's moving fast. I'll call in 
Beldin and have him take a look." He lifted his face, and Garion 
could feel his thought reaching out. 
They rode at a gallop into a mounting wind that whipped their cloaks 
about them and carried with it an unpleasant chill and vagrant 
spatters of cold rain. 
When they crested the hill above the deserted village, they could see 
the storm front advancing like a wall across die open plain. 
"It's going to be close," Belgarath shouted above the wind. "Let's 
make a run for it." 
: They plunged down the hill through wildly tossing grass and 
then across a broad belt of plowed ground that encircled Ihe village. 
The place was walled, but the gate was off its binges, and many 
houses showed signs of recent fires. They clattered along a rubble- 
littered street with the wind screaming at them. Garion heard a loud 
pop. Then another. Then several more in a growing staccato. "Here 
comes the bail!" he shouted. 
..- : Velvet suddenly cried out and clutched at her shoulder. Silk, 
almost without thinking, it seemed, pulled his horse in beside hers 
and flipped his cloak over her, tenting it protectively with his arm. 
>JKBeldin stood in the dooryard of a relatively intact house. |f*In 
here!" he called urgently. "The stable doors are open! ICtel the 
horses inside!" 
-v; They swung out of their saddles and quickly led their v-j$ounts 
into a cavernlike stable. Then they pushed the doors 
and dashed across the yard to the house. *Did you check the village 
for people?" Belgarath asked hunchbacked sorcerer as they entered. 
^'There's nobody here," Beldin told him, "unless there's 
ler bureaucrat hiding in a cellar somewhere." 'The banging sound 
outside grew louder until it became a 
210 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
211 
steady mar. Garion looked out the door. Great chunks of ice were 
streaking out of the sky and smashing themselves to bits on the 
cobblestones. The chill grew more intense moment by moment. "I think 
we made it just in time," he said. 
"Close the door, Garion," Polgara told him, "and let's get a fire 
going." 
The room into which they had come showed signs of a hasty departure. 
The table and the chairs had been overturned, and there were broken 


dishes on the floor. Durnik looked around and picked up a stub of 
candle from the corner. He righted the table, set the candle on a 
piece of broken plate, and reached for his flint, steel, and tinder. 
Toth went to the window and opened it. Then he reached out, pulled 
the shutters closed, and latched them. 
Durnik's candle guttered a bit, then its flame grew steady, casting a 
golden glow through the room. The smith went to the fireplace. 
Despite the litter on the floor and the disarray of the furniture, 
the room was pleasant. The walls had been whitewashed, and the 
overhead beams were dark and had been neatly adzed square. The 
fireplace was large and it had an arched opening. A number of 
pothooks jutted from its back wall, and a pile of firewood was neatly 
stacked beside it. It was a friendly kind of place. 
"All right, gentlemen," Polgara said to them. "Let's not just stand 
there. The furniture needs to be put right, and the floor needs to be 
swept. We'll need more candles, and I'll want to check the sleeping 
quarters." 
The fire Durnik had built was catching hold. He gave it a critical 
look; satisfied, he rose to his feet. "I'd better see to the 
horses," he said. "Do you want the packs in here, Pol?" 
4 'Just the food and the cooking things for now, dear. But don't you 
think you should wait until the hail lets up?" 
"There's a sort of covered walkway along the side of the house," he 
replied. "I'd guess that the people who built the place knew about 
this sort of weather." He went out with Toth and Eriond close behind 
him. 
Garion crossed the room to where Velvet sat on a rude bench with her 
hand laid protectively over her right shoulder. Her face was pale, 
and her brow was dewed with sweat. 
"Are you all right?" he asked her. 
*'It surprised me, that's all," she replied. "It's nice of to ask, 
though." 
*'Nice my foot!" He was suddenly angry. "You're like a sister to me, 
Liselle, and if you let yourself get hurt, I'll take it as a personal 
insult." 
"Yes, your Majesty," she said, her smile suddenly lighting up the 
room. 
"Don't play with me, Velvet. Don't try to be brave. If /you're hurt, 
say so." 
-. "It's only a little bruise, Belgarion," she protested. Her large 
brown eyes conveyed a world of sincerity, mostly feigned. 
"I'll spank you," he threatened. "Now, that's an interesting 
notion." She laughed. He didn't even think about it. He simply leaned 
forward and kissed her on the forehead. 
; She looked a little surprised. "Why, your majesty," she jftid in 
mock alarm. "What if Ce'Nedra had seen you do 


»t?" 
:'-' "Ce'Nedra can cope with it. She loves you as much as I ;>do. 
I'll have Aunt Pol look at that shoulder." iA "It's really fine, 
Belgarion." ; :;/• "Do you want to argue about that with Aunt Pol?" 
She thought about it. "No," she said, "I don't really so. Why don't 
you send Kheldar over to hold my
"Anything else?" 
"You could kiss me again, if you'd like." 
a certain clinical detachment, Polgara opened the of Velvet's gray 
dress and carefully examined the large le bruise on the blond girl's 
shoulder. Velvet blushed modestly covered her more salient features. 
**I don't think anything's broken," Polgara said, gently ing the 
bruised shoulder. "It's going to be very painful, gh-" "I noticed
that almost immediately," Velvet said, winc- 
"A1I right, Sadi," Polgara said briskly, "I need a good jesic. What 
would you suggest?" 
**I have oret, Lady Polgara," the eunuch answered. 
212
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
She thought about it. "No," she said. "Oret would incapacitate her 
for the next two days. Do you have any mis-eth?" 
He looked a bit startled. "Lady Polgara," he protested. "Miseth is an 
excellent painkiller, but—" He looked at the suffering Velvet. "There 
are those side effects, you know." 
"We can control her if necessary." 
"What side effects?" Silk demanded, hovering protectively over the 
blond girl. 
"It tends to rouse a certain—ah, shall we say—ardor," Sadi replied 
delicately. "In Nyissa it's widely used for that purpose." 
"Oh," Silk said, flushing slightly. 
"One drop," Polgara said. "No. Make that two." 
"Two?" Sadi exclaimed.
"I want it to last until the pain subsides." 
"Two drops will do that, all right," Sadi said, "but you'll have to 
confine her until it wears off." 
"I'll keep her asleep if I need to." 
Dubiously, Sadi opened his red case and removed a vial of deep purple 
liquid. "This is against my better judgment, Lady Polgara," he said. 
"Trust me."
"It always makes me nervous when somebody says that," Belgarath said
to Beldin. 
"A lot of things make you nervous. We can't go anywhere until the 
girl's better. Pol knows what she's doing." 
"Maybe," Belgarath replied. 
Sadi carefully measured two drops of the purple medication into a cup 
of water and stirred the mixture with his finger. Then he rather 



carefully dried his hand on a piece of cloth. He handed the cup to 
Velvet. "Drink it slowly," he instructed. "You'll begin to feel very 
strange almost immediately." 
"Strange?" she asked suspiciously. 
"We can talk about it later. All you need to know now is that it's 
going to make the pain go away." 
Velvet sipped at the cup. "It doesn't taste bad," she observed. 
"Of course not," the eunuch replied, "and you'll find 
DAVID EDDINGS 
213 
t it tastes better and better as you get toward the bottom 
the cup." 
Velvet continued to take small sips of the liquid. Her face flushed. 
"My," she said, "isn't it warm in here all of sudden?" 
Silk sat down on the bench beside her. "Is it helping at $11?" he 
asked. " "Hmm?" ; "How's the shoulder?" 
"Did you see my bruise, Kheldar?" She pulled her dress 
-open to show it to him. She showed him—and everyone else jn the 
room—other things as well. "Oops," she said ab- 

•ehtly, not bothering to cover herself. 
"I think you'd better take those steps you mentioned, Lady Polgara," 
Sadi said. "The situation is likely to get ~$ut of hand any minute 
now." 
Polgara nodded and put one hand briefly on Velvet's brow. Garion felt 
a light surge. 
"Suddenly I feel so very drowsy," Velvet said. "Is the i-ftjedicine 
doing that?" 
? "In a manner of speaking," Polgara replied. ;;'; Velvet's head 
drooped forward, and she laid it on Silk's 
"Bring her along, Silk," Polgara told the little man. 'Let's find a 
bed for her." 
IT .'Silk picked the sleeping girl up and carried her from the ;ipom 
with Polgara close beside him. * "Does that stuff always have that 
effect?" Ce'Nedra asked 
"Miseth? Oh yes. It could arouse a stick." , "And does it work on 
men, too?" JP'Gender makes no difference, your Majesty." 
*,/ ,"How very interesting." She gave Garion a sly, sidelong |£ance. 
"Don't lose that little bottle, Sadi," she said. 
*$""Never mind," Garion told her. 
%-;li took them perhaps a quarter of an hour to tidy up the i. 
Polgara was smiling when she and Silk returned. s'U sleep now," she 
said. "I looked into the other i, too. The woman of the house appears 
to have been y neat sort of person," she said. "This is the only that 
was seriously disturbed when the family left." 
214 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 

She set her candle down and smoothed the front of her gray dress with 
a satisfied expression. "The house will do very nicely, uncle," she 
told Beldin. 
"I'm glad you approve," he replied. He was sprawled on a high-backed 
bench by the window and was carefully re-tying the thong that held 
his ragged left sleeve in place. 
"How far are we from the river?" Belgarath asked him. 
"It's still a ways—a good day's hard riding at least. I can't be much 
more exact than that. When the wind came up, it almost blew off my 
feathers." 
"Is the country on up ahead still empty?" 
"It's hard to be sure. I was up fairly high, and if there are any 
people out there, they'd all have taken cover from this storm." 
"We'll have to have a look in the morning." Belgarath leaned back in 
his chair and stretched his feet out toward the hearth. "That fire 
was a good idea," he said. "There's a definite chill in the air.'' 
"That happens sometimes when you pile three or four inches of ice on 
the ground," Beldin told him. The ugly little man squinted 
thoughtfully. "If this sort of storm is a regular afternoon 
occurrence around here, we'll need to cross the Magan during the 
morning hours," he noted. "Getting caught in a hailstorm in an open 
boat isn't my idea of fun.'' 
"Now you stop that!" Sadi said sharply to Zith's earthenware bottle. 
"What's the trouble?" Ce'Nedra asked. 
"She was making a funny little noise," Sadi replied. "1 wanted to see 
if she was all right, and she hissed at me." 
"She does that every now and then, doesn't she?" 
"This was a bit different. She was actually warning me to stay away 
from her." 
"Could she be ill?" 
"I wouldn't think so. She's a fairly young snake, and I've been very 
careful about what I feed her." 
"Perhaps she needs a tonic." Ce'Nedra looked question-ingly at 
Polgara. 
Polgara laughed helplessly. "I'm sorry, Ce'Nedra," she said, "but I 
have no experience with the illnesses of reptiles." 
DAVID EDDINGS 
215 
*' "Do you suppose we could talk about something else?" k asked 
plaintively. "Zith is a nice enough little animal, ^suppose, but 
she's still a snake." $V Ce'Nedra whirled on him, her eyes suddenly 
flashing. ]$*How can you say that?" she snapped angrily. "She's saved 
^•11 our lives twice— once in Rak Urga when she nipped that ij©rolim, 
Sorchak, and again at Ashaba when she bit Har-fakan. Without her, we 
wouldn't be here. You might show 
at least a little bit of gratitude." 


-""Well ..." he said a little uncertainly. "You could be fight, I 
suppose, but hang it all, Ce'Nedra, I can't abide 
' "I don't even think of her as a snake. ' * ;'•-', "Ce'Nedra," he 
said patiently, "she's long and skinny, ipe wriggles, she doesn't 
have any arms or legs, and she's poisonous. By definition, she's a 
snake." :' "You're prejudiced," she accused. 
"Well— yes, I suppose you could say that." 
*Tm bitterly disappointed in you, Prince Kheldar. She's 
sweet, loving, brave little creature, and you're insulting 
He looked at her for a moment, then rose to his feet and floridly to 
the earthenware bottle. "I'm dreadfully t, dear Zith," he apologized. 
"I can't think what came me. Can you possibly find it in your cold 
little green ^;!^ to forgive me?" 
Zith hissed at him, a hiss ending in a curious grunt. : "She says to 
leave her alone," Sadi told him. jt;*?Can you really understand what 
she's saying?" £flh a general sort of way, yes. Snakes have a very 
limited lary, so it's not all that difficult to pick up a few here 
and there." The eunuch frowned. "She's been ing a great deal lately, 
though, and that's not like her. usually a very ladylike little 
snake." can't believe I'm actually involved in this conversa-Silk 
said, shaking his head and going off down the rard the back of the 
house. 
returned with Tom and Eriond. They were car-le packs containing 
Polgara's utensils and the food. looked critically at the fireplace 
and its facilities. been eating some rather sketchy meals lately," 
she 
216 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
noted. "We have a fairly adequate kitchen here, so why don't we take 
advantage of it?" She opened the food pack and rummaged through it. 
"I wish I had something besides travel rations to work with," she 
said half to herself. 
"There's a hen roost out back, Pol," Beldin told her helpfully. 
She smiled at him. "Durnik, dear," she said in an almost dreamy tone 
of voice. 
"I'll see to it at once, Pol. Three, maybe?" 
"Make it four. Then we'll be able to carry some cold chicken with us 
when we leave. Ce'Nedra, go with him and gather up all the eggs you 
can find." 
Ce'Nedra stared at her in astonishment. "I've never gathered eggs 
before, Lady Polgara," she protested. 
"It's not hard, dear. Just be careful not to break them, that's all." 
"But—" 
"I thought I'd make a cheese omelette for breakfast." 
Ce'Nedra's eyes brightened. "I'll get a basket," she said quickly. 
"Splendid idea, dear. Uncle, are there any other interesting things 


about this place?" 
"There's a brewhouse at the back of the building." He shrugged. "I 
didn't have time to look into it." 
Belgarath rose to his feet. "Why don't we do that right now?" he 
suggested. 
"People in farm villages don't make very good beer, Belgarath." 
"Maybe this one's an exception. We'll never know until we try it, 
will we?" 
"You've got a point there." 
The two old sorcerers went off toward the back of the house while 
Ehond piled more wood on the fire. 
Ce'Nedra returned, frowning and a little angry. "They won't give me 
their eggs, Lady Polgara," she complained. "They're sitting on them." 
"You have to reach under them and take the eggs, dear." 
"Won't that make them angry?" 
"Are you afraid of a chicken?" 
The little queen's eyes hardened, and she left the room purposefully. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
217 
A root cellar behind the house yielded a store of vegeta-and 
Belgarath and Beldin brought a cask of beer in the brewhouse. While 
the chickens were roasting, Pol-rummaged through the canisters and 
bins in the n. She found flour and a number of other staples, and She 
rolled up her sleeves in a businesslike way, mixed up a targe batch 
of dough, and began to knead it on a well-scrubbed cutting board near 
the fire. "We can have some biscuits tonight, I think," she said, 
"and I'll bake some fresh bread in the morning." 
The supper was the best Garion had eaten in months. There had been 
banquets and adequate meals in inns sod the like, but there was a 
certain indefinable quality to his Aunt Pol's cooking that no other 
cook in the world could hope to match. After he had eaten more 
perhaps than was mally good for him, he pushed his plate away with a 
sigh and leaned back in his chair. 
"I'm glad you decided to leave some for the rest of us," Ce'Nedra 
said in a slightly snippy tone. 
"Are you cross with me for some reason?" he asked her. 
**No, I suppose not, Garion. I'm just a little irritated, that's 
all." 
"Why?" 
"A chicken bit me." She pointed at the remains of a roasted hen lying 
on a large platter. "That one," she added. iShe reached out, wrenched 
a drumstick off the chicken and bit into it rather savagely with her 
small white teeth. 'There," she said in a vengeful tone. "How do you 
like 
*?" 
iVjGarion knew his wife, so he knew better than to laugh. 


supper, they all lingered at the table in a kind of contentment as 
the storm outside abated, there was a light, almost diffident rap on 
the door, sprang to his feet, reaching over his shoulder for his 
:'**! don't mean to disturb you," a querulous old voice from the 
other side of the door. "I just wanted to be you have everything you 
need." garath rose from his chair, went to the door, and nr.-d it. | 
4Holy Belgarath," the man outside said with a bow of 
218 
SORCERESS OF PARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
219 
the profoundest respect. He was very old, with snowy white hair and a 
thin, lined face. 
He was also a Grolim. 
Belgarath stared at him warily. "You know me?" he asked. 
"Of course. I know you all. I've been waiting for you. May I come 
in?" 
Wordlessly, Belgarath stepped aside for him, and the aged Grolim 
tottered into the room, aided by a twisted cane. He bowed to Polgara. 
"Lady Polgara," he murmured. Then he turned to Garion. "Your 
Majesty," he said, "may I beg your forgiveness?" 
"Why?" Garion replied. "You've never done anything to me." 
"Yes I have, your Majesty. When I heard about what had happened in 
the City of Endless Night, I hated you. Can you forgive that?" 
"There's nothing to forgive. It was only natural for you to feel that 
way. You've had a change of heart, I take it?" 
"It was changed for me, King Belgarion. The New God of Angarak will 
be a kindlier, gentler God than was Torak. I live now only to serve 
that God and I abide against the day of his coming." 
"Sit down, my friend," Belgarath told him. "I assume you've had a 
religious experience of some kind?" 
The old Grolim sank into a chair with a beatific smile on his lined 
face. "My heart has been touched, Holy Belgarath," he said simply. "I 
had devoted all of my life to the service of Torak in the temple in 
this village. I grieved more than you can know when I learned of His 
death, for I served Him without question. Now I have removed His 
likeness from the Temple wall and I decorate the altar with flowers 
instead of the blood of sacrificial victims. Bitterly I repent the 
times when I myself held the knife during the rite of sacrifice." 
"And what was it that so changed you?" Polgara asked him. 
"It was a voice that spoke to me in the silences of my soul, Lady 
Polgara, a voice that filled me with such joy that it seemed that all 
the world was bathed in light." 
"And what did the voice say to you?" 
t4 The old priest reached inside his black robe and withdrew t 
parchment sheet. "I took great care to inscribe the words itttaetly 


as the voice spoke them to me," he said, "for such W$ the instruction 
I received. A man may misconstrue what j|fe is told, or change it if 
it is not to his liking or if he fails Ipjjunderstand." He smiled 
gently. "What I have written is lor the benefit of others, though, 
for the words are engraved Bpon my heart far more indelibly than upon 
this sheet." He &fied the parchment and read from it in a quavering 
voice. '-**<'Behold:' " he read, " 'In the days which shall follow 
IJhe meeting of the Child of Light and the Child of Dark in the City 
of Endless Night shall a great despair fall over the Priests of the 
Dark God, for He shall have been laid low and shall come no more 
among His people. But lift up thine faeart, for thy despair is but 
the night which shall be ban-igfaed by the rising of a new sun. For 
verily I say to thee, Angarak shall have a new birth with the coming 
of her true ||Jpd--He who was purposed to lead her since the 
Beginning 'ofif Days. For lo, the Dark God was bora out of 
nothingness the instant of the EVENT which divided all creation, and 
was not He who was foreordained to guide and protect garak. In the 
last meeting of the Child of Dark and the Id of Light shall the true 
God of Angarak be revealed, ye shall render up unto Him your hearts 
and your de->n. 
'And the course which Angarak shall follow shall be "Artermined by 
the CHOICE, and once the CHOICE is made, not be unmade and shall 
prevail eternally for good ill. For harken, two shall stand in the 
Place Which Is More, but only one shall be chosen. And the Child of 
and the Child of Dark shall surrender up the burden spirits which 
guide them to the two who shall stand lopectation of the CHOICE. And 
should the CHOICE fall to tone hand, the world shall be drowned in 
darkness, but it fall to the other hand, shall all be bathed in 
light, that which was ordained since before the beginning of shall 
come to pass. 
"Abide in hope, therefore, and treat thy fellow creatures and with 
love, for this is pleasing to the true God, should He prevail and be 
chosen, He shall bless thee lay but a gentle yoke upon thee.' " The 
old Grolim 
220 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
221 
lowered the sheet and bowed his head prayerfully. "Thus spoke the 
voice which filled my heart with joy and banished my despair," he 
said simply. 
"We're grateful that you shared this with us," Belgarath told him. 
"Might we offer you something to eat?" 
The Grolim shook his head. "I do not eat meat any more," he said. "I 
would not offend my God. I have cast away my dagger and will shed no 
more blood for all the days of my life." He rose to his feet. "I will 


leave you now," he said. "I came but to reveal to you the words the 
voice spoke to me, and to assure you that one at least in all of 
Angarak shall pray for your success." 
"We thank you," Belgarath said sincerely. He went to the door and 
held it open for the gentle old man. 
"That was fairly specific, wasn't it?" Beldin said after the Grolim 
had left. "It's the first time I heard a prophecy that got straight 
to the point." 
"You mean to say that he's really a prophet?" Silk asked. 
"Of course he is. It's an almost classic case. He had all the 
symptoms—the ecstasy, the radical change of personality, all of it." 
"There's something wrong here, though," Belgarath said, frowning. 
"I've spent eons reading prophecies, and what he said didn't have the 
same tone as any that I Ve ever come across—either ours or the 
others." He looked at Garion. "Can you get in touch with your 
friend?" he asked. "I need to talk with him." 
"I can try," Garion replied. "He doesn't always come when I call, 
though." 
"See if you can reach him. Tell him that it's important." 
"I'll see what I can do, Grandfather." Garion sat down and closed his 
eyes. "Are you in there?" he asked. 
"Please don't shout, Garion, " the voice responded in a pained tone. 
"It hurts my ears. " 
' 'Sorry,'' Garion apologized. ' 7 didn 't realize I was talking so 
loud. Grandfather wants to talk with you.'' 
"All right. Open your eyes, Garion. I can't see when they're closed. 
" 
As had happened occasionally in the past, Garion felt himself shunted 
off into some quiet corner of his mind, and 
dry voice took over. "All right, Belgarath," it said 
Garion's lips. "What is it this time?' "I've got a couple of 
questions, " the old man replied. ftMFThere 's nothing new about 
that. You 've always got questions. " 
?n£'Did you hear what the Grolim said?" "Naturally." "Was it you? I 
mean, were you the voice that came to 
, "No, as a matter of fact, I wasn't. " "Then it was the other 
spirit?" "No. It wasn't him either. " "Then who was it?'' 
"Sometimes I can't believe that Aldur chose you as his first 
disciple. Are your brains packed in wool?" 
"You don't have to be insulting. " Belgarath sounded a *4it injured, 
but Beldin laughed an ugly, cackling kind of laugh. 
^, "All right," the voice sighed, "I'll go through it 
care-''tjjjlflfy. Try not to miss too much. My counterpart and I came 
}' J&W0 existence when Destiny was divided. Have you got that 
;>% "/ knew that already. " 
|^' "And you even managed to remember it? Amazing. " |P "Thanks, " 


Belgarath said in a flat tone. §<£; **/'m working with Garion's 
vocabulary. He's a peasant, he can be a little blunt sometimes. Now, 
doesn 't it seem that when Destiny is reunited, there should be a new 
My counterpart and I will have served our purpose, tre won't be any 
further need for us. Millions of years 
between us have warped our perceptions a bit. : Belgarath looked 
startled at that. '"Think, old man," the voice told him. "I'm not 
suited deal with a united universe. I've got too many old ?s. The 
new voice can start out fresh without any pre-xptions. It's better 
that way, believe me.'' 7 think I'm going to miss you. " 'Don't get 
sentimental on me, Belgarath. I don't think I 
bear that. " 
'Wait a minute. This new voice will come into existence the meeting, 
right?" 
222 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
223 
"At the instant of the meeting, actually. " 
"Then how did it speak to the old Grolim, if it's not in existence 
yet?" 
"Time doesn't really mean that much to us, Belgarath. We can move 
backward and forward in it without any particular difficulty.'' 
"You mean the voice was speaking to him from the future ?'' 
"Obviously. " Garion felt a faint, ironic smile cross his lips. "How 
do you know I'm not speaking to you from the past?" 
Belgarath blinked. 
' 'Now we 've got you,'' Beldin said triumphantly. ' 'We 're going to 
win, aren't we?" 
"We can hope so, but there's no guarantee. " 
' "The voice that spoke to the Grolim represents a kindlier God, 
doesn't it?" 
"Yes. " 
' 'If the Child of Dark wins, the New God isn 't going to be very 
kindly, is he?" 
"No. " 
"Then the simple fact that the voice came to him from out of the 
future—after the choice—indicates that the Child of Light is going to 
win, doesn't it?" 
The voice sighed. "Why do you always have to complicate things, 
Beldin? The voice that spoke to the Grolim is the possibility of the 
new spirit. It's simply reaching back in time to make certain 
preparations so that things will be ready in the eventuality that it 
comes out on top. The Choice still hasn 't been made yet, you know.'' 
"Even the possibility of existence has that kind of power?" 
' 'Possibility has enormous power, Beldin—sometimes even more than 


actuality.'' 
"And the possibility of the other spirit could be making its own 
preparations as welt, couldn't it?" 
' 7 wouldn 't be at all surprised. You have an enormous grasp of the 
obvious.'' 
' 'Then we 're right back where we started from. We 're still going 
to have two spirits wrestling across time and the universe for 
dominance.'' 
''-•• ' 'No. The Choice will eliminate one of the possibilities 
once and for all. " 
' 7 don't understand,'' Beldin confessed. ; ,'7 didn 't think you 
would.'' 
"What preparations was this new voice making?" Pol-gara asked 
suddenly. 
"The Grolim who came to you here will be the prophet and the first 
Disciple of the New God—assuming that the Child of Light is chosen, 
of course. " 
"A Grolim?" 
"The decision wasn't mine to make. The new God will be a God of 
Angarak, though, so it does make sense, I suppose." 
"That might take a bit of getting adjusted to. " 
"You have as many prejudices as I do, Polgara," the 
voice laughed, "but I think in the long run, you're more 
\. adaptable—and certainly more so than these two stubborn 
'(. old men are. You 'II come to accept it in time. Now, if there 
wen't any more questions, I still have some things to attend 
to—in another part of time.'' 
And then the voice was gone. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
225 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
The sun was just going down, staining the purple cloudbank to the 
west with a jaundiced yellow as it broke through an opening in the 
approaching storm. Garion crested a long hill and looked down into 
the next valley. There was a complex of buildings there, a complex so 
familiar that he dropped onto his haunches and stared at it in 
amazement for a moment. Then he rose on all fours again and moved 
cautiously through the tall grass toward the farmstead. He saw no 
smoke, and the large gate was open, but he didn't see any point in 
taking chances. Farmers have an automatic aversion to wolves, and 
Garion did not particularly want to dodge arrows shot at him from 
concealment. 
He stopped at the edge of the cleared area surrounding the farm, 
dropped to his belly in the grass, and looked at the farm for quite 
some time. It seemed to be deserted. He 
224 


Tan forward and slunk cautiously through the open gate. The 
^•compound was quite nearly as large as Faldor's farm, half ^a world 
away. 
p He slipped through an open shed door and stood inside v with one 
forepaw slightly raised as his nose and ears in-| tently sought for 
any evidence that he was not alone. The | farmstead was silent, save 
for the complaining moan of an '- udder-heavy cow lowing to be milked 
in the barn across the 
central yard. The smells of people were here, of course, but 
they were all many days old. 
: Garion slipped out of the shed and trotted cautiously from $ door 
to door, opening each in turn by twisting the handle °; with his 
jaws. The place in many respects was so strikingly i familiar that it 
brought him a sharp pang of a homesickness [". he thought he had long 
since put behind him. The storage *£. rooms were all almost the same 
as at Faldor's. The smithy H was so like Durnik's that Garion could 
almost hear the steely paring of his friend's hammer on the anvil. He 
was quite cer-J Cain that he could close his eyes and pad unerringly 
across f; the yard to the kitchen. 
;}; Methodically, he entered each room around the lower £ floor of 
the farmstead, then scrambled up the stairs leading £.--to the 
gallery with his toenails scratching at the wooden 
All was deserted. 
He returned to the yard and poked an inquiring nose into the barn. 
The cow bawled in panic, and Garion backed out through the door to 
avoid causing her further distress. 
"Aunt Pol," he sent his thought out. 
"Yes, dear?" 
"There's nobody here, and it's a perfect place." , "Perfect is an 
extravagant word, Garion." . "Wait until you see it." 
A few moments later, Belgarath trotted through the gateway, sniffed, 
looked around, and blurred into his own form. "It's like coming home, 
isn't it?" He grinned. 
"I thought so myself," Garion replied. ;;; Beldin carae spiraling 
in. "It's about a league to the 'river," he said even as he changed. 
"If we move right along, we can make it by dark." 
"Let's stay here instead," Belgarath said. "The river- 
226 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
227 
banks might be patrolled, and there's no point in creeping around in 
the dark if we don't have to." The hunchback shrugged. "It's up to 
you." Then Polgara, as pale and silent as a ghost, drifted over the 
wall, settled on the tailgate of a two-wheeled cart in the center of 
the yard, and resumed her own form. "Oh, my," she murmured, stepping 


down and looking around. "You were right, Garion. It is perfect." She 
folded her cloak across her arm and crossed the yard to the kitchen 
door. 
About five minutes later, Durnik led the others into the yard. He 
also looked around, then suddenly laughed. "You'd almost expect 
Faldor himself to come out that door," he said. "How's it possible 
for two places so far apart to look so much alike?" 
"It's the most practical design for a farm, Durnik," Bel-garath told 
him, "and sooner or later, practical people the world over are going 
to arrive at it. Can you do something about that cow? We won't get 
much sleep if she bawls all night long." 
"I'll milk her right away." The smith slid down from his saddle and 
led his horse toward the barn. 
Belgarath looked after him with an affectionate expression. "We may 
have to drag him away from here in the morning," he noted. 
"Where's Polgara?" Silk asked, looking around as he helped Velvet 
down from her horse. 
"Where else?" Belgarath pointed toward the kitchen. * 'Getting her 
out of there may be even harder than dragging Durnik out of the 
smithy." 
Velvet looked around with a slightly dreamy expression on her face. 
The drug Sadi had given her the previous night had not yet entirely 
worn off, and Garion surmised that Polgara was keeping her under 
rigid control. "Very nice," she said, leaning involuntarily toward 
Silk. "Sort of homey." 
Silk's expression was wary, like that of a man about ready to bolt. 
They ate well again that evening, sitting around a long table in the 
beamed kitchen with the golden light of wax candles filling the room 
and winking back from the polished copper bottoms of kettles hung on 
the wall. The room was 

•snug and warm, even though the storm which had been 
•.building up all afternoon raged outside, filling the night with 
thunder and wind and driving rain. 
Garion felt oddly at peace, a peace he had not known for ' more than 
a year now, and he accepted this time of renewal gratefully, knowing 
that it would strengthen him in the cli-mactic months ahead. 
"Oh, my goodness!" Sadi exclaimed. After he had finished eating, the 
eunuch had taken his red case to the far end of the kitchen and had 
been trying to coax Zith from her little home with a saucer of fresh, 
warm milk. ; "What is it, Sadi?" Velvet said, seeming to shake off 
the effects of the drug and Polgara's insistence that she remain 
calm. 
"Zith had a little surprise for us," Sadi replied in a de-lighted 
tone. "Several little surprises, in fact." 
Velvet went curiously to his side. "Oh," she said with a ; little 
catch in her voice, "aren't they adorable?" : "What is it?" 

Polgara asked. 
"Our dear little Zith is a mother," Velvet said. 
The rest of them rose and went to the other end of the 
room to look at the new arrivals. Like their mother, they 
were all bright green with the characteristic red stripe run|:
ning from nose to tail. There were five of them, and they 
were no larger than angleworms. They all had their chins 
on the edge of the saucer and they were lapping up warm 
milk with their forked little tongues, purring all the while. 
Zith hovered over them protectively, somehow managing to 
look demure. 
"That would explain why she's been so bad-tempered ately," Sadi said. 
"Why didn't you tell me, Zith? I could 'feave helped you with the 
delivery." 
"I'm not sure I'd want to be a midwife to a snake," Silk said. 
"Besides, I thought reptiles laid eggs." 
"Most of them do," Sadi admitted. "Some kinds are ; live-bearers, 
though. Zith happens to be one of those Hands." 
"And here I thought she was just getting fat," Velvet said, "and all 
the time she was pregnant." Durnik was frowning. "Something doesn't 
quite fit 
228 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
229 
here," he said. "Isn't Nyissa the only place where her species is 
found?" 
"Yes," Sadi said, "and they're very rare even in Nyissa." 
"Then how ..." Duraik flushed slightly. "What I'm getting at is, how 
did this happen? We've been away from Nyissa for a long time. Where 
did she meet the father?" 
Sadi blinked. "That's true, isn't it? This is impossible. Zith, what 
have you been up to?" 
The little green snake ignored him. 
"It's really not such a mystery, Sadi," Eriond told him, smiling 
slightly. "Don't you remember what Cyradis said to Zith at Ashaba?" 
"Something about something being delayed. I didn't really pay that 
much attention. We were in the middle of something fairly distracting 
at the moment, if I remember right." 
"She said, 'Be tranquil, little sister, for the purpose of all thy 
days is now accomplished, and that which was delayed may now come to 
pass.' This is what she was talking about. This is what was delayed." 
"You know," Beldin said to Belgarath, "I think he's right. This isn't 
the first time the prophecy's tampered with things in order to get 
the job done. That business about the 'purpose of all her days' 
simply means that Zith was born for one thing—to bite Harakan. Once 


she'd done that, things went back to normal again." Then the 
hunchback looked at Eriond. "How is it that you remembered exactly 
what she said? We were all fairly excited there in Urvon's throne 
room." 
"I always try to remember what people say," Eriond replied. "It may
not always make sense at the time they say it, but sooner or later it
always seems to fit together." 
"This is a strange boy, Belgarath," Beldin said. 
"WeVe noticed that on occasion."
"Is it really possible?" Sadi asked the old sorcerer. "That sort of
intervention, I mean?"
"That's the wrong question to ask my grandfather." Gar-ion laughed. 
"He doesn't believe that anything's impossible." 
Silk was standing a safe distance away from Zith and her new brood. 
His eyebrow was raised slightly. "Congratula- 
| tions, Zith," he said finally to the little green mother. Then be 
looked sternly at the others. "This is all very nice, I suppose," he 
added, "but if anybody calls them little nippers, I'll just scream." 
They had bathed and gone to bed, but Ce'Nedra was restless, and she 
tossed and turned. Suddenly she sat up. "I wonder if that milk's 
still warm," she murmured. She tossed back the blanket and padded on 
little bare feet to the door. "Do you want some, too?" she asked
Garion. 
"No, thanks all the same, dear."
"It would help you sleep." 
"I'm not the one who's having trouble sleeping." 
She stuck her tongue out at him and went out into the hallway.
When she returned a few moments later with her glass of milk, she was 
stifling a naughty little giggle. 
"What's so funny?" he asked her. 
"I saw Silk." 
"So?" 
"He didn't see me, but I saw him. He was going into a bedroom." 
"He can go in and out of his bedroom if he wants to." 
She giggled again and hopped into bed. "That's the point, Garion," 
she said. "It wasn't his bedroom." 
"Oh." Garion coughed in embarrassment. "Drink your milk." 
"I listened at the door for a moment," she said. "Don't you want to 
hear what they were saying?" 
"Not particularly, no." 
She told him anyway. 
The rain had passed on through, although there were still rumbles of 
thunder far to the west, and jagged sheets of lightning raked the 
western horizon. Garion awoke suddenly and sat upright in bed. There 
was a different kind of rumble outside, and it was occasionally
accompanied by a shrill bellowing noise. He slipped softly out of bed 



and went out onto the balcony that encircled the farmyard. A long 
line of torches was slowly moving out there in the darkness, perhaps 
a half mile to the west. Garion peered out through the 
230 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
231 
tag end of the storm, then began to form up the image of the wolf in 
his mind. This was definitely something that needed to be 
investigated. 
The torches moved at a peculiarly slow pace; as Garion loped closer 
to them, he noticed that they seemed much higher than they would have 
been if the torchbearers were mounted on horses. The slow rumbling 
sound and the peculiar bellowing continued. Then he stopped beside a 
bramble thicket and sat down on his haunches to watch and listen. A 
long line of huge grey beasts was plodding through the night in a 
northeasterly direction. Garion had seen the image, at least, of an 
elephant on the Isle of Verkat in Cthol Murgos when his Aunt Pol had 
routed the mad hermit in the forest. An image of an elephant is one 
thing, however, but the reality is quite something else. They were 
enormous, far larger than any animal Garion had ever seen, and there 
was a kind of ponderous implacability about their steady pace. Their 
foreheads and flanks were covered with skirts of chain mail, and 
Garion shuddered inwardly at the thought of such vast weight, though 
the elephants moved as if the mail were as insubstantial as cobwebs. 
Their sail-like ears swayed as they walked, and their pendulous 
trunks drooped down before them. Occasionally, one of them would curl 
his trunk up, touching it to his forehead, and give vent to a 
shattering trumpet sound. 
Men in crude body armor were mounted on the huge, plodding beasts. 
One, bearing a torch, sat cross-legged atop each huge neck. Those 
riding behind were armed with javelins, slings, and short-limbed 
bows. At the head of the column, riding astride the neck of a beast 
fully a yard taller than the ones in his wake, was a man wearing the 
black robe of a Grolim. 
Garion rose and slunk closer, his careful paws making no sound in the 
rain-wet grass. Although he was certain that the elephants could 
easily catch his scent, he reasoned that beasts so large would pay 
little attention to a predator who posed no real threat to them. In 
the presence of such immensity, he felt small, even flealike. He did 
not particularly like the feeling. His own bulk approached two 
hundred pounds, but an elephant's weight was measured in tons, not in 
pounds. 
He ranged on silent paws along the column, maintaining a distance of 
perhaps fifty yards and keeping his nose and eyes alert. His 
attention was concentrated on the black-robed OroHm astride the neck 


of the lead animal. 
The elephants moved on, and Garion trotted alongside the column, 
maintaining his distance. 
Then there appeared in the track ahead of the lead elephant a figure 
robed in shiny black satin that gleamed in the torchlight. The column 
halted, and Garion slunk closer. : The satin-robed figure pushed back 
her hood with a hand that seemed filled with swirling light. At 
Ashaba and again in Zamad, Garion had briefly seen the face of his 
son's abductor, but the confrontations with the Darshivan sorceress 
had been so charged with danger and dread that he had not really had 
time to let the features of the Child of Dark register on his memory. 
Now, slinking still closer, he looked upon her torchlit face. 
, Her features were regular, even beautiful. Her hair was a lustrous 
black, and her skin was very nearly as pale as that of Garion's 
cousin Adara. The similarity ended there, however. Zandramas was a 
Grolim, and her dark eyes had that peculiar angularity common to all 
Angaraks. her nose was 

•lightly aquiline, and her forehead was broad and unlined. IHer chin 
was pointed, which made her face seem oddly triangular. 
**I have been awaiting thee, Naradas," she said in her harshly 
accented voice. "Where hast thou been?" 
"Forgive me, mistress," the Grolim astride the neck of the massive 
lead bull apologized. "The herdsmen were farther south than we had 
been told." He pushed back his . His face was cruel, and his white 
eyes gleamed in the 
•flickering torchlight. "How fares the struggle with die Disciple's 
minions?" 
"Not well, Naradas," she replied. "His Guardsmen and bis Chandim and 
the rabble out of Karanda outnumber our ; forces." 
"I have a regiment of elephant cavalry behind me, mis-1 Naradas 
informed her. "They will turn the tide of The grass of central 
Peldane will be well watered [with the blood of Urvon's Guardsmen, 
Chandim, and Kar- 
232 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
ands. We will roll them back and make Darshiva secure once and for 
all." 
"I care nothing for Darshiva, Naradas. I seek the world, and die fate 
of one small principality on the eastern edge of Mallorea is a matter 
of sublime indifference to me. Let it stand or let it fall. I care 
not. It hath served its purpose, and now I am weary of it. How long 
will it take you to deliver your beasts to the field of battle?" 
"Two days at most, mistress." 
"Do so then. Put them under the command of my generals and then 
follow me to Kell. I will return to Hemil and gather up Otrath and 
Belgarion's brat. We will await thee in the shadow of the holy 

mountain of the seers." 
"Is it true that Urvon brought the Demon Lord Nahaz and his hordes 
with him, mistress?" 
"He did, but that no longer concerns us. Demons are not so difficult 
to raise, and Nahaz is not the only Demon Lord in Hell. Lord Mordja 
consented to aid us with his hordes. There hath long been enmity 
between Mordja and Nahaz. They do war upon each other now with no 
concern for ordinary forces." 
"Mistress!" Naradas exclaimed. "Surely you would not consort with 
such creatures!" 
"I would consort with the King of Hell himself in order to triumph in 
the Place Which Is No More. Mordja hath feigned flight and hath lured 
Nahaz away from the battlefield. Take thy beasts there so that they 
may destroy Urvon's hosts. Nahaz and his minions shall not be there 
to delay thee. Then come with all possible speed to Kell." 
"I shall, mistress," Naradas promised submissively. 
A slow rage had been building up in Garion. His son's abductor was no 
more than seconds away from him, and he knew that there was no way 
she could gather in her will before his fangs were into her flesh, 
and then it would be too late. He curled his lips back from his 
dreadful teeth and slunk closer, one step at a time, his hackles 
erect and his belly low to the ground. He thirsted for blood, and his 
hatred burned like a fire in his brain. Quivering in awful 
anticipation, he bunched his muscles, and a low, rumbling growl 
filled his throat. 
It was that sound that ultimately brought him to his senses. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
233 
thought that had seared his brain was the thought of a f, and it 
considered nothing beyond the immediate mo-If Zandramas indeed stood 
no more than a few bounds •way, he could rend her flesh and scatter 
her blood in the till grass beside the track upon which she stood 
before the echo of her shrieks had returned from nearby hillsides. 
But if the figure standing before white-eyed Naradas was but an 
insubstantial projection, he would clash his curved fangs on 
nothingness, and the Sorceress of Darshiva would escape his vengeance 
once again, even as she had at Ashaba. 
It was perhaps the thought burning in his brain that alerted her; or 
perhaps, as Polgara had done so often, she had merely sampled the 
surrounding region with her mind and bad located the others. Whatever 
it was, the sorceress suddenly hissed in alarm. "Danger!" she snapped 
to her white-eyed underling. Then she smiled a cruel, mirthless 
smile. '-"But I have a form immune to Alorn sorcery." She tensed 
herself, then blurred, and then the immense shape of the dragon 
appeared before the suddenly terrified elephants. She spread die vast 
sails of her wings and launched herself into tiie damp night air, 


filling the darkness with her shrieking bellow and her sooty red 
fire. 
"Aunt Pol!" Garion's thought flew out. "The dragon's craning!" 
"What?" her answering thought came back. 
"Zandramas has changed form! She's flying toward you!" 
"Come back here!" she commanded crisply. "Now!" 
He spun, his claws digging into the damp turf, and ran toward the 
farmstead as fast as he could. Behind him he could hear the shrill, 
panicky trumpeting of the elephants, and overhead the shrieking 
bellow of the vast dragon. He ran on desperately, knowing that 
Zandramas was immune to whatever countermeasures Polgara and the 
others might try, and that only the flaming sword of Iron-grip could 
drive her away. 
It was not far, though the seconds seemed like hours as be bunched 
and stretched in the running gait of the wolf. Ahead of him he could 
see the dragon's fiery breath illuminating the storm clouds roiling 
overhead, a fire eerily accompanied by pale blue lightning that 
danced in jerky streaks down from the clouds. Then she folded her 
huge 
234 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
235 
wings and plummeted down toward the farmstead with billows of fire 
preceding her. 
Between bounds, Garion changed and ran on toward the gate with the 
sword of Iron-grip flaming in the air above his head. 
At the last instant, the dragon extended her vast pinions and settled 
into the farmyard, still belching fire and smoke. She swung her 
snakelike neck around, sending incandescent billows of flame into the 
wooden structures surrounding the yard. The seasoned wood began to 
char and smoke, and here and there small blue flames began to flicker 
their way up the sides of the door frames. 
Garion rushed into the yard, his burning sword aloft. Grimly, he 
began to flail at the dragon with it. "You may be immune to sorcery, 
Zandramas," he shouted at her, "but you're not immune to this!" 
She shrieked, engulfing him in a sheet of flame, but he ignored it 
and continued to lash her with the blue flame of the Orb and the 
sword. Finally, unable to bear his relentless strokes any longer, she 
hurled herself into the air, flapping her great wings frantically. 
She clawed at the air and finally managed to clear the second-story 
roof of the farmstead. Then she settled to earth again and continued 
to bathe the structure in flame. 
Garion dashed out through the gateway, fully intending to confront 
her again. But then he stopped. The dragon was not alone. Glowing 
with her peculiar nimbus, the blue wolf faced the altered form of the 


Sorceress of Darshiva. Then, even as Polgara had once expanded into 
immensity in Sthiss Tor to face the God Issa and as Garion himself 
had done in the City of Endless Night when he had come at last to his 
fated meeting with Torak, the blue wolf swelled into vast-ness. 
The meeting of the two was the sort of thing nightmares are made of. 
The dragon fought with flame, and the wolf with her terrible fangs. 
Since the wolf was insubstantial— except for her teeth—the dragon's 
flame had no effect; and though the teeth of the wolf were very 
sharp, they could not penetrate the dragon's scaly hide. Back and 
forth they raged in titanic but inconclusive struggle. Then Garion 
thought he detected something. The light was not good. The sky over"
bead was still obscured by the last tattered clouds of the ; 
evening's storm, and the sullen flickers of lightning seemed 
tq^obscure more than they revealed, but it appeared that tt^h time 
the wolf lunged, the dragon flinched visibly. Then it came to him. 
Though the wolfs teeth could not injure the 
-dragon, her blue nimbus could. It seemed in some way to 
.. be akin to the glow of the Orb and the fire of Iron-grip's 
;|s sword. Somehow the blue glow surrounding Poledra, when 
". ibe assumed the shape of the wolf, partook of the power of 

•fejbe Orb, and Garion had discovered that even in the form 
-'••of the invincible dragon, Zandramas feared the Orb and 
•-anything connected with it. Her flinching became more visible, and 
Poledra pressed her advantage with savage, snarl-,:• ing lunges. 
Then, suddenly, they both stopped. A wordless ifc agreement seemed to 
pass between them and each blurred y back into her natural form. 
Their eyes flashing with implacable hatred, Zandramas and Poledra 
faced each other as two , women. 
"I've warned you about this, Zandramas," Poledra said 
a deadly voice. "Each time you try to thwart the purpose of the 
Destiny which controls us all, I will block you." 
"And I have told thee, Poledra, that I do not fear thee," the 
sorceress retorted. 
"Fine, then," Poledra almost purred. "Let us summon the seeress of 
Kell and let her make the choice here and now and based upon the 
outcome of this meeting." 
"Thou art not the Child of Light, Poledra. Thou hast no part in the 
ordained meeting." 
"I can stand in Belgarion's stead, if need be," Poledra replied, "for 
the meeting between you and him is not the .meeting upon which the 
fate of creation hinges. In that last oieeting you will no longer be 
the Child of Dark, and he will no longer be the Child of Light. 
Others are destined to take up those burdens, so let the meeting 
between you and me come now and in this place." 
"Thou wilt turn all to chaos, Poledra," Zandramas screamed. 
"Not all, I think. You have far more to lose than I. Bel-garion is 

the Child of Light and he will go from here to the Place Which Is No 
More. You are the Child of Dark, but if we have our meeting here and 
now, and if you are the one 
236 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
to fall, who will assume your burden? Urvon, perhaps, or Agachak? Or 
some other? You, however, will not be the exalted one, and I think 
that thought might be more than you can bear. Consider it, Zandramas, 
and then choose." 
The two stood facing each other with the last flickers of lightning 
from the evening's storm playing luridly among the clouds to the 
west, bathing their faces in an eerie light. 
"Well, Zandramas?" 
"We will surely meet, Poledra, and all shall be decided— but not 
here. This is not the place of my choosing." Then the Child of Dark 
shimmered and vanished, and Garion heard and felt the rushing surge 
of her translocation. 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
She walked toward him with a stately, unhurried step, golden eyes a 
mystery. "Put your sword away, Garion," |«be told him. "There's no 
need for it now." 
"Yes, Grandmother." He reached back over his shoulder id inserted the 
tip of his blade into the sheath and let it 
§"*«ttde home of its own weight. "You heard, I suppose?" f. "Yes, 
Grandmother." s "Then you understand?" £; "Not entirely, no." 
^ "I'm sure you will in time. Let's go inside. I need to talk 
t^^rith my husband and my daughter." | "All right." Garion was not 
entirely sure about the ^proprieties and he was just a bit unsure of 
what his reac-might be should he attempt to assist her, only to dis- 
237 
238 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
cover that she had no substance. Good manners, however, dictated that 
a gentleman help a lady across uneven ground, and so he set his 
teeth, reached out, and took her elbow. 
She was as solid as he was. That made him feel better. 
"Thank you, Garion." She smiled a bit whimsically at him. "Did you 
really think your hand would pass right through me?" 
He flushed. "You knew what I was thinking." 
"Of course." She laughed a low, warm iaugh. "It's not really all that 
miraculous, Garion. You're a wolf in your other form, and wolves are 
very open about their thoughts. You were speaking them out loud in a 
hundred little moves and gestures you weren't even aware you were 
making." 
"I didn't know that." 
"There's a great deal of charm about it. Puppies do it all the time." 


"Thanks," he said drily as the two of them passed through the gateway 
into the yard of the farmstead. 
Durnik and Toth were extinguishing the last flickers of flame from 
the scorched wall of a first-floor shed with buckets full of water 
carried to them by Silk, Eriond, and Sadi. The dragon had not had 
enough time to ignite the structures fully with her searing breath, 
and so none of the fires were very serious. 
Polgara crossed the yard gravely with Ce'Nedra and Velvet close 
behind her. "Mother," she said simply. 
"You're looking well, Polgara," the tawny-haired woman replied as if 
they had spoken together only last week. ' 'Married life agrees with 
you." 
"I rather like it." Polgara smiled. 
"I rather thought you might. Is he around? I need to talk with him as 
well as with you." 
"He's in one of the upstairs rooms. You know how he feels about these 
meetings." 
"Would you fetch him for me, Garion? I have only so much time, and 
there are things he has to know. He's going to have to put his 
feelings aside this time." 
"Right away, Grandmother." He turned and went quickly 
DAVID EDDINGS 
239 
the wooden steps to the second floor gallery and the door 
Aunt Pol had indicated. 
Belgarath sat on a rumpled cot. His elbows were on his " s, and his 
face was buried in his hands. "Grandfather," Garion said gently. 
'"•What?" 
"She wants to talk with you." Belgarath lifted his face. His 
expression was one of mute 
ring. 
"I'm sorry, Grandfather, but she says it's very impor-it." Belgarath 
set his jaw, then sighed in resignation. "All 
it," he said, rising to his feet. "Let's go, then." 
LS the two of them started down the steps, they saw Dur-bowing a bit 
awkwardly to Poledra. "Ma'am," the was saying. Garion suddenly 
realized that this was 
ibably the first time the two had been formally intro- 
"So stiff and proper, Durnik?" she replied. She reached and lightly 
touched his face with one hand. Then she ibraced him. "You've made my 
daughter very happy, lik," she told him. "Thank you." Then she turned 
and >ked directly at Belgarath. "Well?" she said. There was Challenge 
in her voice. 1, "You haven't changed a bit," he said in a voice 
thick 
emotion. "Oh, I've changed all right," she replied wryly, "in ways 
even you could imagine." "It doesn't show." 


"It's nice of you to say so. Did you hear the little ex-phange 
between the witch and me?" 
He nodded. "You were taking chances, Poledra. What if 
taken up your challenge?" 
"Wolves enjoy taking chances." She shrugged. "It adds certain zest to 
their lives. It really wasn't all that risky, llflliough. Zandramas 
is the Child of Dark, and the Dark Spirit gradually taking over her 
body as well as her soul; it's going to gamble at this particular 
time. It takes too long train replacements, and there's not that much 
time left >re the final meeting. All right, let's get down to busi-». 
Zandramas has her Angarak king now." 
240 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
241 
Belgarath nodded. "We'd heard about that." 
"You always were good at ferreting out secrets. The coronation 
ceremony was fairly grotesque. Zandramas followed the ancient Angarak 
ritual. Torak was supposed to be present, but she worked her way 
around that. It involved a certain amount of fakery, but the image of 
Him she conjured up was convincing enough to deceive the gullible." 
Poledra smiled. "It certainly persuaded Archduke Otrath," she added. 
"He fainted on three separate occasions during the ceremony. I think 
the oaf actually believes that he really is the emperor now—a 
delusion Kal Zakath's headsman will relieve him of shortly if Otrath 
is unlucky enough to fall into his cousin's hands. At any rate, 
Zandramas has only one more major task." 
"Oh?" Belgarath said. "What's that?" 
"The same as yours. She has to find out where the meeting's supposed 
to take place. Don't dally on your way to Kell. You've still got a 
long way to go. Time's getting short, and you have to get across the 
Magan before Zakath gets here." 
"Zakath?" He sounded startled. 
"You mean you didn't know? He moved his army into place around Maga 
Renn some weeks back. He sent out advance elements a few days ago, 
and he left Maga Renn with the bulk of his army just yesterday. He 
plans to blockade the river from the northern end of the Dalasian 
Mountains to the jungles of Gandahar. If he gets that blockade in 
place, you might have some difficulty getting across the river." Then 
she looked at Beldin. "You haven't changed much, my crooked friend," 
she noted. 
"Did you expect me to, Poledra?" He grinned at her. 
"I thought you might at least have changed that disreputable old 
tunic—or that it might have rotted off your back by now." 
"I patch it from time to time." He shrugged. "Then I replace the 
patches when they wear out. It's a comfortable tunic and it fits me. 


The original is probably only a memory, though. Is there anything 
else you think we need to know? Or are we going to stand around 
discussing my wardrobe?" 
She laughed. "I've missed you," she told him. "Oh, one 
of the hierarchs of Cthol Mtirgos has landed at Finda on the west 
coast of the Dalasian Protectorates." 
"Which one?" 
"Agachak," 
"Does he have an Angarak king with him?" Silk asked eagerly. 
"Yes." 
"Urgit—the King of the Murgos?" 
She shook her head. "No. Apparently Urgit defied Agachak and refused 
to make the journey." 
"Urgit defied Agachak? Are you sure? Urgit's afraid of his own 
shadow.'' 
"Not any more, it seems. Your brother's changed quite a bit since you 
last saw him, Kheldar. His new wife may have had something to do with 
that. She's a very determined young woman, and she's making him over 
to fit her conception of him." 
"That's terribly depressing," Silk mourned. 
"Agachak brought the new king of the Thulls instead—a cretin named 
Nathel." Poledra looked at her husband. "Be very careful when you get 
to Dalasia," she told him. "Zandramas, Urvon, and Agachak will all be 
converging on you. They hate each other, but they all know that 
you're the common enemy. They may decide to put aside their feelings 
in order to join forces against you." 
"When you add Zakath and the whole Mallorean army to that, the Place 
Which Is No More might be just a little crowded when we get there," 
Silk observed wryly. 
"Numbers will mean absolutely nothing in that place, Kheldar. There 
will only be three who matter there—the Child of Light, the Child of 
Dark, and the Seeress of Kell, who will make the choice." She looked 
at Eriond then. "Do you know what it is you have to do?" she asked 
him. 
"Yes," be replied simply. "It's not such a difficult thing, really." 
"Perhaps not," Poledra told him, "but you're the only one who can do 
it." 
"I'll be ready when the time comes, Poledra." 
Then the tawny-haired woman looked again at Belgarath. "Now I think 
it's finally time for you and me to have that 
242 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
243 
little talk you've been avoiding since our daughters were born," she 
said very firmly. 


The old man started. 
"In private," she added. "Come with me." 
"Yes, Poledra," he replied meekly. 
Purposefully she walked toward the gate of the farmstead with 
Belgarath trailing behind her like a schoolboy anticipating a 
scolding—or worse. 
"At last," Polgara sighed with relief. 
"What's going on, Lady Polgara?" Ce'Nedra asked in a baffled little 
voice. 
"My mother and father are going to be reconciled," Polgara replied 
happily. ' 'My mother died—or perhaps didn't— when my sister Beldaran 
and I were born. My father always blamed himself because he wasn't 
there to help her. He and Bear-shoulders and the others had gone to 
Cthol Mishrak to steal the Orb back from Torak. Mother never blamed 
him because she knew how important what they were doing was. Father 
doesn't forgive himself that easily, however, and he's been punishing 
himself about it for all these centuries. Mother's finally gotten 
tired of it, so she's going to take steps to correct the situation." 
"Oh," Ce'Nedra said with that odd little catch in her voice. "That's 
just beautiful." Her eyes filled with sudden tears. 
Wordlessly, Velvet drew a flimsy little bit of a handkerchief from 
her sleeve, dabbed at her own eyes, then passed it to Ce'Nedra. 
It was perhaps an hour later when Belgarath returned. He was alone, 
but there was a gentle smile on his face and a youthful twinkle in 
his eye. No one saw fit to ask him any questions. "What time of night 
would you say it is?" he asked Durnik. 
The smith squinted up at the sky where the last remnants of cloud 
were being swept off to the east by the prevailing wind to reveal the 
stars. "I'd guess about two hours until first light, Belgarath," he 
replied. "The breeze has come up, and it sort of smells like 
morning." 
"I don't think we'll get any more sleep tonight," the old man said. 
"Why don't we load the packs and saddle the horses while Pol fixes 
some of those eggs for breakfast?" 
Polgara looked at him with a slightly raised eyebrow. 
"You weren't planning to let us leave without feeding us 4$rst, were 
you, Pol?" he asked her roguishly. 
"No, father," she said, "as a matter of fact, I wasn't." 
"I didn't think so." Then he laughed and threw his arms about her. 
"Oh, my Pol," he said exuberantly. ; Ce'Nedra's eyes filled with 
tears again, and Velvet leached for her handkerchief once more. 
"Between them, they're going to wear that little thing .out," Silk 
noted clinically. 
"That's all right," Garion replied. "I've got a couple of 
ares in my pack." Then he remembered something. 
**Grandfather," he said, "in all the excitement, I almost forgot 


something. Before she changed into the dragon, I heard Zandramas 
talking with Naradas." 
"Oh?" 
"He's been in Gandahar and he's taking a regiment of lephant cavalry 
to the battlefield." 
"That won't matter very much to the demons." 
"The demons aren't there any more. Zandramas raised another Demon
Lord—Mordja, his name is—and he's man- 


•ged to lure Nahaz away from the battlefield. They've gone |pff 
someplace else to fight." 
Belgarath scratched at one bearded cheek. "Just how is that elephant 
cavalry out of Gandahar?" he asked 
"Pretty close to invincible," Silk replied. "They drape them in chain 
mail, and they trample wide paths through opposing armies. If the 
demons have left the field, Urvon's , army hasn't got a chance.'' 
"There are too many people involved in this race anyway," Belgarath 
grunted. "Let's get across the Magan and leave all these armies to 
their own devices." 
They ate breakfast and rode out from the farmstead as the first light 
of dawn began to creep slowly up out of the eastern horizon. Oddly, 
Garion felt no particular weariness despite a night significantly 
short on sleep. A great deal had happened since the sun had gone 
down, and he had much to think about. 
The sun had risen when they reached the great River Magan. Then, 
following Toth's gestured directions, they rode 
244 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
slowly southward, looking for a village where they might find a boat 
targe enough to carry them across to Darshiva. The day was warm, and 
the grass and trees had all been washed clean by the previous night's 
storm. 
They came to a small settlement of mud-smeared shacks standing on 
stilts, with rickety docks thrusting out into the river. A lone 
fisherman sat at the end of one of the docks negligently holding a 
long cane pole. 
"Talk to him, Durnik," Belgarath said. "See if he knows where we can 
hire a boat." 
The smith nodded and reined his horse around. On an impulse, Garion 
followed him. They dismounted at the landward end of the dock and 
walked out toward the fisherman. 
He was a stumpy-looking little fellow, dressed in a homespun tunic 
and with muddy, baglike shoes on his feet. His bare legs were laced 
with knotty, purple veins, and they were not very clean. His face was 
tanned, and he was not so much bearded as unshaven. 
"Any luck?" Durnik asked him. 
"See fer yerself," the fisherman said, pointing at the wooden tub at 

his side. He did not turn, but rather kept his eyes intently on the 
floating red stick to which his line was attached and which dangled 
his baited hook down into the murky water of the river. The tub was 
half-full of water, and several foot-long trout swam in circles in 
it. The fish had angry-looking eyes and jutting lower jaws. 
Durnik squatted down beside the fisherman, his hands on bis knees. 
"Nice-looking fish," he observed. 
"A fish is a fish." The stumpy fellow shrugged. "They look better on 
the plate than they do in the tub." 
"That's why we catch them," Durnik agreed. "What are you using for 
bait?" 
"Tried angleworms earlier," the fellow replied laconically. "Didn't 
seem to interest 'em, so I switched over to fish roe." 
"I don't think I've ever tried that," Durnik admitted. "How does it 
work?" 
"Caught them five in the last half hour. Sometimes it makes 'em so 
excited, you got to go behind a tree to bait 
DAVID EDDINGS 245 
iur hook to keep 'em from chasin* you right up onto the 
"I'll have to try it," Durnik said, eyeing the water wist-y. "Have 
you got any idea of where we might be able (hire a boat? We've got to 
go across the river." JJThe fisherman turned and stared at the smith 
incredu-y. "To the Darshiva side?" he exclaimed. "Man, are out of 
your mind?" *Is there some trouble over there?" "Trouble? That don't 
even begin to describe what's hap-over there. You ever hear tell of 
what they call a ion?" 
A few times." "You ever seen one?" "Once, I think." 
There's no think about it, friend. If you seen one, you'd low." The 
fellow shuddered. "They're just plain awful. fell, sir, the whole of 
Darshiva's just crawlin' with 'em. ire's this Grolim, he come down 
from the north with a pack of *em snappin' an' growlin' at his heels. 
Then ire's this other Grolim—a woman, if you can believe that— 
idramas, her name is, an' she stepped back an' cast a ill an* hauled 
some of her own out of wherever it is they ie from, an' them demons 
is fightin' each other over ;re in Darshiva." 
"We'd heard that there was fighting to the north of here fePeldane." 
"Those are just ordinary troops, and what they're fightin' it an 
ordinary war with swords an' axes an' burnin' pitch |*n* all. The 
demons, they all went across the river lookin' Jer fresh ground to 
tear up an* fresh people to eat. They do it, y' know—demons I mean. 
They eat folks—alive, most the time." 
"I'm afraid we still have to go over there," Durnik told him. 
':,; "I hope yer a good swimmer then. Yer gonna have no :k at all 
findin' a boat. Ever*body from here jumped on lythin' as would float 
an* headed downriver t'ward Gan-lar. Guess they figgered them wild 
elephants down there 


a whole lot preferable to demons." "I think you're getting a bite," 
Durnik said politely, 
246 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
247 
pointing at the floating stick on the stumpy man's line. The stick 
was submerging and popping back to the surface again. 
The fisherman jerked his pole straight up into the air and then 
swore. "Missed 'im," he said. 
"You can't catch them all," Durnik said philosophically. 
"You can sure try, though." The fellow laughed, pulling in his line 
and rebaiting his hook with a dripping gobbet of fish roe he took 
from an earthenware bowl at his side. 
"I'd try under the dock, myself," Durnik advised. "Trout always seem 
to like shade." 
"That's the good thing about usin' fish roe fer bait," the fisherman 
said sagely. "They kin smell it, an' they'll go fer it even if they 
gotta climb a fence to get there." He cast his line out again and 
absently wiped his hand on the front of his tunic. 
"How is it that you stayed behind?" Durnik asked. "I mean, if there's 
so much trouble around here, why didn't you go to Gandahar with the 
other people who left here?" 
"I never lost nothin' in Gandahar. Them folks is all crazy down 
there. They spend all their time chasin' elephants. I mean, what y' 
gonna do with a elephant once y' catch 'im? An' the fish down there 
aren't worth the bait. Besides, this is the first time I've had this 
dock all to myself in the last five years. Most of the time I can't 
even get my line in the water, there's so many out here." 
"Well," Durnik said, rising to his feet a little regretfully, "I 
suppose we'd better push on. We're going to have to find a boat 
somewhere." 
"I'd sure advise stayin' away from the Darshiva side, friend," the 
fisherman said seriously. "You'd be better off t* cut yerself a pole 
an' sit right here with me until all the trouble blows over.'' 
"I certainly wish I could," Durnik sighed. "Good luck, friend." 
"Just bein' here with my line in the water is the best luck in the 
world." The fellow shrugged, turning his eyes back to the floating 
stick on his line. "If you go over to the Darshiva side, try not t' 
get et by demons." 
"I'll make a special point of it," Durnik promised. As Garion and his 
friend walked back along the rickety ;k to where their horses were 
tethered, Durnik smiled. y talk differently in this part of the 
world, don't 
.t,*y?" 

y: "Yes," Ganon agreed, remembering the gabby old man pod his pig in 

the wayside tavern above the plains of Vore-sebo. 
'•' "I sort of like it, though," Durnik admitted. "It's kind free and 
relaxed and easy, somehow." "I wouldn't necessarily try to imitate 
it, though, if I were i," Garion advised. "Aunt Pol might wash your 
mouth with soap if you did." 
"Oh," Durnik smiled, "I don't think she'd really do that, ion." 
^; Garion shrugged. "She's your wife—and it's your iouth." 
'Belgarath was waiting for them atop the grassy hill rising 
the village on the riverbank. "Well?" he asked. uThe fish are 
biting," Durnik told him seriously. r, Belgarath stared at him for a 
moment, then rolled his eyes avenward and groaned. "I meant in 
Darshiva," he said 
between clenched teeth. 
"I couldn't really say for sure about that, Belgarath, but they're 
biting on this side, it only stands to reason that r'd be biting over 
there, too, doesn't it?" Durnik's face f$was very sincere, and his 
tone was earnest. fj.. Belgarath turned and stamped away, muttering 
to him;|| 
When they rejoined the others, Garion briefly repeated |J|ie 
information he and Durnik had gleaned from the solitary man at the 
end of the dock. 
That puts a whole new complexion on things, doesn't Silk said. "Now 
what?" 
If you don't mind a suggestion, Ancient One," Sadi id to Belgarath. 
"I think we might be wise to follow the ple of the villagers 
Belgarion mentioned and go on river to Gandahar and find a boat 
there. It might take little longer, but we'll avoid the demons." Toth 
shook his head. The huge mute's usually impassive 
248 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
249 
face had a worried frown on it. He made a quick series of those 
obscure gestures to Durnik. 
"He says we don't have time," die smith translated. 
"Is there some kind of special time when we have to get to Kell?" 
Silk asked. 
Tom gestured again, his big hands moving rapidly. 
"He says that Kell has been sealed off from the rest of Dalasia," 
Durnik told them. "Cyradis has made arrangements for us to get 
through, but once she leaves, the other seers will seal it off 
again." 
"Leaves?" Belgarath said with some surprise. "Where's she going?" 
Durnik looked inquiringly at loth, and the mute gestured some more. 
"Oh," Durnik said, "I see." He turned back to Belgarath. "She needs 
to go to the place of the meeting soon. She has to be there when it 


happens so that she can make the choice." 
"Couldn't she just travel with us?" Velvet asked. 
Toth shook his head again, and his gestures became more emphatic. 
"I'm not sure I got all that," Durnik confessed. "Tell me if I make 
any mistakes." He turned once more. "He says that something's 
supposed to happen before we get to Kell, but if it doesn't, she'll 
have to travel alone." 
"Did he say what this something is going to be?" Polgara asked her 
husband. 
"The way I understand it, he doesn't know, Pol." 
"Does he know where it's going to happen?" Belgarath asked intently. 
Toth spread his hands. 
"That young lady's really beginning to irritate me." The old man 
looked at Beldin. "What do you think?" 
"I don't see that we have much choice, Belgarath. If this event's 
supposed to happen in Darshiva and we avoid the place, it might not 
happen at all, and the whole business could hinge on that." 
"All right," Belgarath said. "We go to Darshiva then. WeVe dodged 
demons before. The main thing right now is to get across the river 
before Zakath gets here." 
"We're going to need a boat," Durnik said. 
"I'll go see if I can find one," Beldin said, crouching and spreading 
his arms. 
"You don't have to be too selective," Belgarath said. "Anything that 
floats should do it." 
"I'll keep that in mind," Beldin replied and soared away. 
Part Three 
DARSHim 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
It was not really a boat. In point of fact, it was a river barge, and 
its long, trailing rope gave evidence that it had broken its moorings 
somewhere upriver and had drifted downstream with the current. It 
would serve, however. The only real drawback Garion could see was the 
fact that it was lying in about eight feet of water with its 
starboard bow staved in. 
"What do you think, Belgarath?" Beldin asked. 
**A boat that's already been sunk once doesn't inspire much 
confidence,'* the old man said. 
"How would you like to try swimming? There's not even a raft for ten 
miles in either direction." 
Durnik stood squinting down into the cloudy water of the river. "It 
might be all right," he said. 
253 
254 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 


"Durnik," Silk objected, "it's got a big hole in the front of it." 
"I can fix that—provided it hasn't been down there long enough to
start rotting." He pulled off his rust-colored tunic and his boots. 
"Well," he said, "there's one way to find out." He waded out into the 
river, sank beneath the surface, and swam down to the wreck. He went 
hand over hand down one side, stopping every few feet to dig at the 
wood with his knife. After what seemed an eternity, he came up for 
air. 
"Well?" Belgarath called to him.
"That side seems all right," Durnik replied. "Let me check the 
other.'' He dove down again through the greenish water and went up
along the other side. He came up briefly, then went back down to look 
over the interior of the barge. Then he inspected the gaping hole in
the bow. He was breathing hard when he came back up. "It's sound," he
reported as he came dripping out of the river, "and whatever it ran 
into didn't damage anything major. I think I can fix it well enough 
to get us across the river. We'll have to unload it first, though." 
"Oh?" Silk's nose twitched with curiosity. "What kind of cargo was it
carrying?" 
"Beans," Durnik replied, "bags of them. Most of the bags burst when 
the beans swelled up, though." 
Silk groaned.
"Maybe they belonged to someone else, Kheldar," Velvet said 
consolingly. 
"Are you trying to be funny?" 
"I'll help you, Durnik," Garion offered, starting to pull off his 
plain tunic. 
"Ah . . ." Durnik hesitated. "Thanks all the same, Gar-ion, but I've 
seen you swim. You'd better stay on the bank. Toth and I can manage." 
"How do you plan to get it out of the water?" Sadi asked.
"We have all these horses." Durnik shrugged. "Once we swing it
around, they should be able to pull it up on the bank." 
"Why swing it around?"
"Because the hole's in the bow. We want the water to 
drain out as we pull it up onto the beach. A whole herd of horses 
couldn't move it if we left it full of water." 
"Oh. I guess I didn't think of that." 
Toth laid aside his staff, pulled off the blanket he wore across one 
shoulder, and waded out into the river. 
Eriond started to remove his tunic. 
"Where do you think you're going, young man?" Polgara asked him.
"I'm going to help unload the boat, Polgara," he replied earnestly. 
"I swim very well. IVe had lots of practice, remember?" Then he, too, 
waded out into the water. 
"I'm not sure I caught the significance of that," Velvet admitted. 



Polgara sighed ruefully. "When he was a little boy, he lived with 
Durnik and me in the Vale. There was a river nearby, and he used to 
fall into it regularly." 
"Oh. That explains it, I guess." 
"All right," Belgarath said crisply. "They're going to need lumber to 
patch that hole. We passed a shed about a half mile upstream. Let's 
go back and tear it apart." 
It was well after sundown by the time Durnik got the foundered barge 
up onto the beach. For once, nature cooperated, and there was no 
hailstorm that evening. They built a fire on the beach to provide 
light, and the smith, Toth, and Eriond got down to work. 
Silk walked mournfully around the barge. "It's mine, all right," he 
sighed. 
"You keep well-equipped barges, Silk," Durnik said, carefully 
measuring a board. "This one had everything I need right in the 
bow—nails, a barrel of tar, and even a fairly good saw. We'll have it 
afloat before morning." 
"I'm glad you approve," Silk said sourly. He made a wry face. "This 
is unnatural," he complained. 
"What's the problem, Kheldar?" Velvet asked him. 
"Usually, when I want a boat, I steal one. Using one of my own seems 
immoral somehow." 
She laughed gaily and patted his cheek. "Poor, poor dear," she said. 
"It must be terrible to be burdened with so delicate a conscience." 
"All right, ladies," Polgara said then, "let's see to supper." 
256 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
257 
While Durnik, Toth, and Eriond worked on the patch and Polgara, 
Ce'Nedra, and Velvet prepared supper, Garion and the others fetched 
more lumber and began to fashion crude oars. They continued to work, 
even as they ate. Somehow, everything seemed right to Garion. All his 
friends were around him and they were all busy. Although the 
repairing of the boat was of vital importance, the simple chores 
involved seemed almost mundane, and Garion could lose himself in the 
tasks at hand with no sense of the urgency which had attended the 
things he had been forced to do lately. It was almost soothing. 
After the ladies had finished with supper, they carried canvas 
buckets of water from the river and heated the water with hot rocks. 
Then they retired behind a screen of tenting to bathe. 
About midnight, Garion went down to the water's edge to dip his sore 
hands into the river. Ce'Nedra sat not far away, idly letting 
handfuls of sand trickle out from between her fingers. "Why don't you 
see if you can get some sleep, Ce'Nedra?" Garion asked her. 
"I can stay awake as long as you can," she replied. 


"I'm sure you can, but why?" 
"Don't patronize me, Garion. I'm not a child." 
"You know," he said slyly, "I've noticed that myself on any number of 
occasions." 
"Garion!" she gasped, and then she suddenly blushed. 
He laughed, rose to his feet, and went over and kissed her soundly. 
"Go get some sleep, dear," he told her. 
"What are you doing over there?" she asked, looking up the beach to 
where the others still worked. 
"We're making oars. If we just push that barge out into the river, 
the current's going to take us all the way down into Gandahar. *' 
"Oh. Ail right then. Have a pleasant night." She stretched and 
yawned. "Why don't you get me a blanket before you go back to 
building oars?" 
It took Durnik and Toth most of the night to nail a rough, tarsmeared 
patch over the hole in the bow, while the others fashioned 
crude oars fixed on long poles. Several hours before daylight, fog 
began to rise in misty tendrils from the surface of the river. After 
Durnik had liberally applied hot 
tar to the inside and the outside of the patch, he stepped back and 
critically examined his handiwork. 
"I think it's going to leak," Silk predicted. 
"All boats leak." Durnik shrugged. "We can bail the water out." 
It took a great deal of effort and some fairly exotic rigging to get 
the barge back into the river again. Durnik leaped aboard and went 
forward with a torch to examine the patch. "A little trickle is 
all," he said with some satisfaction. "It's nothing we can't keep 
ahead of." 
The fog grew steadily thicker as they loaded their packs aboard the 
barge. It was spring in this part of the world, and frogs sang 
lustily of love in the rushes at the river's edge just upstream. It 
was a pleasant, drowsy sound. Durnik scouted several hundred yards 
downstream and found a shallow bank where the current had cut away 
the soil. He fashioned a ramp from the remaining lumber. They towed 
the barge down to the cut bank and loaded the horses on board. 
"Let's wait until we have a little more light," the smith suggested. 
"Fog's bad enough, but when you add darkness to it, it's almost 
impossible to see where you're going. Rowing this thing isn't going 
to be so enjoyable that we need to paddle around in circles just for 
the entertainment of it." 
"Couldn't we rig a sail of some sort?" Silk asked hopefully. 
"Easily," Durnik replied. He wet one finger with his tongue and held 
it up. "I'll do that just as soon as you work out a way to make the 
wind blow.'' 
Silk's face fell. 
"While you're doing that, I need to go talk with Ce'Nedra." He went 


back up the beach and gently shook Garion's sleeping wife awake. 
"You know? Sometimes he has a very warped sense of humor," Silk 
observed. 
When the first light of day began to tinge the misty eastern horizon, 
they pushed out into the fog and took their places at the oars. 
"I don't want to seem critical, Goodman," Sadi said to Durnik, who 
stood in the stern with his hands gripping the tiller, "but I've seen 
a lot of fog in Nyissa, and, once it's 
258 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
259 
fully daylight, you won't have the faintest idea of where the sun is. 
How do you plan to keep your course?" 
"Ce'Nedra's taking care of that," the smith replied, pointing toward 
the bow. 
The Rivan Queen was leaning over the portside intently watching a 
floating piece of wood attached to a long cord. "What's she doing?" 
Sadi asked, sounding a bit perplexed. 
"She's watching the current. We'll be quartering it, but as long as 
that cord stays at the same angle from the boat, we'll be right on 
course. I put a mark on the rail to show her what the angle ought to 
be." 
"You think of everything, don't you?" Sadi said, continuing to pull 
his oar. 
"I try. You can usually avoid problems if you think your way 
completely through a job." 
Ce'Nedra raised one arm and pointed imperiously to starboard. She 
seemed to be taking her job very seriously. Dur-nik obediently moved 
the tiller. 
Once the eastern shore of the great river vanished in the fog, it 
seemed to Garion that time had stopped entirely. There was no real 
sense of motion, though he bent his back over his oar with monotonous 
regularity. "Tiresome, isn't it?" Silk said. "Rowing always is," 
Garion replied. Silk looked around, then spoke quietly. "Do you 
notice a change in Durnik?" he asked. "No. Not really." 
"What I'm getting at is that usually he's so self-effacing that you 
almost forget that he's around, but back there on the beach, he just 
son of took charge." 
"He's always been like that, Silk. When we're doing something he 
doesn't know all that much about, he just follows along and keeps his 
eyes open; but when we come to something he knows about, he steps in 
and does what has to be done." Garion smiled affectionately back over 
his shoulder at his old friend. Then he looked slyly at Silk. "He 
also learns very fast. By now, he's probably at least as good a spy 
as you are, and he watched you very closely while you were 


manipulating the bean market back there in Mel-cena. If he ever 
decides to go into business, I think you and 
Yarblek had better start keeping a close count of your tail 
feathers." 
Silk looked a bit worried. "He wouldn't really do that, would he?" 
"He might. You never really know about Durnik, do you?" 
As the sun rose higher, the fog diffused its light, and the world 
around them became a monochrome—white fog and black water with no 
hint at all that they were making any progress or, if they were, that 
it was in the right direction. Garion felt a bit strange, knowing 
that they were entirely at Ce'Nedra's mercy. It was only her eyes on 
that cord lightly lying across an angled mark on the rail that kept 
them on course. He loved her, but he knew that she was sometimes 
flighty, and her judgment was not always the best. Her insistent 
little gestures to port or to starboard, however, showed no sign of 
hesitancy or lack of certainty, and Durnik obeyed them implicitly. 
Garion sighed and kept on rowing. 
About midmorning, the fog began to thin, and Beldin drew in his oar. 
"Can you manage here without me?" he asked Belgarath. "I think we 
ought to know just exactly what we're running into. There's all sorts 
of unpleasantness going on in Darshiva, and I don't think we'll want 
to come ashore right in the middle of it." 
"And you're getting tired of rowing, right?" the old man replied 
sarcastically. 
"I could row all the way around the world if I wanted to," the 
gnarled-looking little hunchback replied, flexing his oak-stump arms, 
"but this might be more important. Do you really want to beach this 
tub and find Nahaz waiting for you on the sand?" 
"Do whatever you think is right." 
"I always do, Belgarath—even if it makes you unhappy sometimes." The 
grimy little gnome went forward toward the bow. "Excuse me, me little 
darlin'," he said to Ce'Nedra in an exaggerated brogue, "but I must 
be off now." 
"I need you at that oar," she objected. "How can I keep the course if 
everybody runs away?" 
"I'm sure y' kin manage, me little darlin'," he said, 
260 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
patting her cheek; then, leaving a ghostly laugh behind him, he 
disappeared into the fog. 
"You come back here!" she shouted after him, but he was already gone. 
There was the faintest touch of a breeze then. Garion could feel it 
brushing across the back of his sweaty neck as he rowed. The fog 
eddied and swirled slightly, thinning even more. 
And men there were looming black shapes all around diem. 
"Garion!" Ce'Nedra exclaimed. 


A number of triumphant shouts came out of the rapidly dissipating 
fog. They were surrounded by ships that moved purposefully to block 
them. 
"Do we make a run for it?" Silk asked in a tense, hoarse whisper. 
Belgarath looked at the ships moving to surround them, his eyes like 
flint. "Run?" he said. "In this tub? Don't be ridiculous." 
A boat had moved directly in front of them, and, as they drifted 
closer, Garion could see the oarsmen. "Mallorean soldiers," he noted 
quietly. "Zakath's army." 
Belgarath muttered a few choice oaths. "Let's sit tight for a bit. 
They may not know who we are. Silk, see if you can talk us out of 
mis. *' 
The little man rose and went to the bow of their barge. "We're 
certainly glad to see imperial troops in this region, Captain," he 
said to the officer commanding the boat blocking their path. "Maybe 
you can put a stop to all the insanity that's been going on around 
here." 
"I'll need your name," the officer replied. 
"Of course," Silk said, slapping his forehead. "How stupid of me. My 
name is Vetter. I work for Prince Kheldar. Perhaps you've heard of 
him?" 
"The name's familiar. Where are you going?" 
"Actually, we're bound for Balasa down in the Dalasian Protectorates. 
Prince Kheldar has interests there—that's assuming we can make our 
way across Darshiva. Things are in turmoil there." He paused. "I 
wonder, Captain, do you suppose you could spare us a few soldiers to 
act as an escort? I'm authorized to pay quite handsomely." 
DAVID EDDINGS 
261 
"We'll see," the officer said. 
Then an even larger ship emerged from the fog and moved alongside 
their patched and leaky vessel. A familiar face looked over the rail. 
"It's been quite some time, hasn't it, King Belgarion?" General 
Atesca said in a pleasant, conversational tone. "We really ought to 
try to stay in touch." Atesca wore his customary scarlet cloak and a 
burnished steel helmet embossed with gold. 
Garion's heart sank. Subterfuge was quite out of the question now. 
"You knew we were out here," he said accusingly. 
"Of course. I had people watching you on the Peldane side." The redclad 
general sounded a bit smug about that. 
"I felt no presence," Polgara declared, pulling her blue cloak about 
her. 
"I'd have been very surprised if you had, my Lady," Atesca replied. 
"The men who were watching you are imbeciles. Their minds are as 
vacant as the minds of mushrooms." He looked distastefully out across 
the river. "You have no idea of how long it took me to explain to 


them what they were supposed to do. Every army has a few men like 
mat. We try to weed them out, but even gross stupidity has its uses, 
I suppose." 
"You're very clever, General Atesca," she said in a tight voice. 
"No, Lady Polgara," he disagreed. "I'm just a plain soldier. No 
officer is more clever than his intelligence service. Brador's the 
clever one. He's been gathering information about your peculiar gifts 
from various Grolims since the battle of Thull Mardu. Grolims pay 
very close attention to your exploits, my Lady, and over the years 
they've amassed a great deal of information about your abilities. As 
I understand it—although I'm certainly no expert—the more acute a 
mind is, the more easily you can detect its presence. That's why I 
sent those human turnips out to watch you." He looked critically at 
their boat. "That's really a wretched tiling, you know. Are you 
keeping it afloat by sorcery?" 
"No," Durnik told him in a flat, angry tone of voice, "by skill." 
"I bow to your skill, Goodman Durnik," Atesca said a bit 
extravagantly. "You could probably work out a way to 
262 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
make a rock float—if you really wanted to." He paused and looked at 
Belgarath. "I assume we're going to be civilized about this, Ancient 
One?" he asked. 
"I'm willing to listen," Belgarath replied warily. 
"His Imperial Majesty feels a strong need to discuss certain matters 
with you and your companions, Holy Belgarath," Atesca said, "and I 
think I should advise you that you're paddling this wreck of yours 
directly into the middle of a hornet's nest. Sensible people are 
avoiding Darshiva right now." 
"IVe never pretended to be sensible." 
Atesca laughed ruefully. "I haven't either," he admitted. "At the 
moment, I'm trying to map out a military campaign to invade that most 
insensible region. May I offer you gentlemen—and your ladies—the 
hospitality of my ship?" He paused. "I think I'll have to insist," he 
added regretfully. "Orders, you understand. Besides, we might want to 
pool our information while we await the arrival of his Imperial 
Majesty." 
"Is Zakath coming here?" Garion asked. 
"I doubt that he's more than a day behind me, your Majesty," Atesca 
replied, "and he's aflame with the desire to have a long, long talk 
with you." 
—What do we do, Grandfather?—Garion's fingers asked. 
—/ don't think we 've got much choice at the moment. Beldin 's out 
there somewhere. I'll let him know what's happening. He'll come up 
with something.—"All right, General," he said aloud. "I was getting a 
little tired of rowing anyway."—Pass the word to the others—He 


motioned to Garion.—Let's seem to go along—at least until we get to 
the Darshiva side. — 
Atesca's ship, while not opulent, was comfortable. They gathered in 
the forward cabin, a room littered with maps and various-sized bits 
and pieces of parchment. As always, General Atesca was polite, but 
firm. "Have you had break-iast yet?" he inquired. 
"We were a little rushed," Belgarath told him. 
"I'll send word to the cook, then," Atesca said. He went to the door 
and spoke with one of the red-garbed guards posted outside. Then he 
came back. "While we're waiting, why don't we share that information 
I was talking about? 
DAVID EDDINGS 
263 
I'd heard that you were going to Ashaba when you left Mal Zeth. Then 
you suddenly surface in Melcena, and now you're halfway across the 
Magan to Darshiva. You people certainly move around." 
—He already knows what we 're doing. —Silk's fingers said to 
Belgarath.—There's no point in trying to hide it.— 
"Please, Prince Kheldar," Atesca said in a pained tone, "don't do 
that. It's very impolite, you know." 
Silk laughed. "Either your eyes are very sharp, General, or advancing 
age is making my fingers clumsy. In point of fact, I was merely 
suggesting to Belgarath that we'd made no secret of our reason for 
coming to Mallorea. Kal Zakath knew why we were here, so there's no 
point in being coy about it." He gave Belgarath an inquiring look, 
and the old man nodded. Silk's face grew serious, even bleak. "We 
went to Ashaba in pursuit of Zandramas—and King Belgarion's son. Then 
we followed her across Karanda and on down to Jarot in northern 
Celanta. Her trail led to Melcena, so we followed her there. Then we 
came back to the continent." 
"And you're still on her trail?" Atesca asked intently. 
' 'More or less,'' Silk lied smoothly. Then he sidestepped the issue. 
"We discovered at Ashaba that Urvon is totally mad now. I'm sure Kal 
Zakath will be interested in that. Anyhow, Urvon's under the control 
of a Demon Lord named Nahaz. Zandramas has raised another Demon Lord 
named Mordja, and the two are fighting each other in Darshiva. I'd 
think a long time before I invaded that region, General. Nahaz and 
Mordja might prefer not to be interrupted." 
"What happened to Mengha?" Atesca asked suddenly. "I thought he was 
the one who was raising demons." 
Silk smiled wryly. "Mengha was actually a Chandim priest named 
Harakan. He was Urvon's underling for centuries." 
"Was?" 
"I'm afraid he's no longer with us. He met a little green snake named 
Zith and he lost interest in things shortly after that." 
Atesca threw back his head and laughed. "I'd heard about your pet, 


your Excellency," he said to Sadi. "Do you suppose she'd accept a 
medal—Heroine of the Empire or something?" 
264 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
265 
"I don't think she'd really be interested, General Atesca," Sadi 
replied coolly. "Besides, if somebody tried to pin a medal to her, 
she might misunderstand." 
"You've got a point there," Atesca said. He looked around a little 
nervously. "You do have her confined, don't you?" 
"Of course, General," Velvet assured him with a dimpled smile. "At 
the moment, she's taking care of her babies. They're absolutely 
adorable. Why don't you show them to the General, Sadi?" 
"Ah . . ." Atesca hesitated. "Some other time, perhaps." 
"All right, General Atesca," Belgarath said, "we've told you what 
we've been doing. Now I think it's time for you to share a bit of 
information with us." 
"We haven't really made a secret of our activities either, Ancient 
Belgarath. The Emperor's forces moved out of Mal Zeth, and we used 
Maga Renn as a staging area. I was instructed to lead the advance 
elements of the army down the Magan and to occupy Ferra. The idea was 
to cut off Zandramas' reinforcements out of Darshiva so that Urvon's 
army could annihilate the troops she had in Peldane. Then we planned 
to fall on Urvon—heavily. After that, we were going to cross the 
river and deal with whatever force Zandramas had left." 
"Good plan," Silk said. 
"Unfortunately, it didn't work. We've got Darshiva cut off, but one 
of Zandramas' underlings went down into Gan-dahar and hired a sizable 
body of elephant cavalry." Atesca frowned. "I think I'll speak with 
his Imperial Majesty about that. I don't really object to 
mercenaries, but the elephant herders of Gandahar are just a bit 
unselective when it comes to hiring themselves out. At any rate, 
there was a battle in central Peldane yesterday, and elephants did 
what elephants usually do. Urvon's army fled, but instead of running 
back toward Celanta, they outflanked the elephants and the rest of 
the Darshivan army, and they're driving straight toward the Magan. If 
they get across into Darshiva, I'll have my work cut out for me. I'll 
have demons and Grolims and Chandim and Hounds and elephants and 
Karands and the whole army of Darshiva to deal with." He sighed 
mournfclly. 
"This is not, I'm afraid, going to be the short, easy campaign 
I'd anticipated." 
"Why not just let Urvon and Zandramas fight it out?" Silk suggested. 
"Policy, Prince Kheldar. The Emperor does not want to appear timid—or 
powerless—and he most certainly doesn't want any army in Mallorea 


except his own to win any kind of a victory. It sets a bad precedent 
and it might give others certain ideas. Mallorea is not as monolithic 
a society as it might appear from the outside. Overwhelming imperial 
force is the only thing that holds us together." 
"I approve of the reasoning," Silk agreed. "Stability is good for 
business." 
"Speaking of that," Atesca said. "One of these days you and I are 
going to have to have a long talk about beans." 
"Are you buying or selling, General Atesca?" Silk asked impudently. 
"Let's get down to cases, gentlemen," Polgara said. "General Atesca, 
what are the Emperor's plans concerning us?" 
"That's for him to decide, my Lady," Atesca replied. "His Majesty 
doesn't always confide in me. He was, however, quite distressed about 
the way you chose to abuse his hospitality in Mal Zeth." 
"He knew where we were going," Garion said flatly, "and why." 
"That's likely to be one of the things he'll want to discuss with 
your Majesty. It's possible that the two of you might be able to work 
out an accommodation of some kind." 
"Possible, but not very probable." 
"That's up to his Imperial Majesty, isn't it?" 
The fog had lifted, but the sky over Darshiva was heavily overcast. 
As Garion stood in the bow of Atesca's ship, he caught a scent that 
was hauntingly familiar. It was a compound of damp rust, stagnant 
water, and the musty smell of fungus. He peered ahead and saw a 
forest composed of dead white snags. His heart sank. 
Atesca quietly joined him. "I hope your Majesty isn't offended with 
me," he said. "I seem to be making a habit of apprehending you and 
your friends." 
266 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
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267 
"You're only following orders, General," Garion said shortly. "My 
quarrel is with your Emperor, not with you." 
"You're a very tolerant man, your Majesty." 
"Not really, General, but I don't waste my time holding grudges 
against people who are only doing what they're told to do." 
Atesca looked toward the Darshivan shore, less than a mile away. "I 
expect that overcast will burn off by noon," he said, smoothly 
changing the subject. 
"I wouldn't count on it, Atesca," Garion said somberly. "Did you ever 
visit Cthol Mishrak?" 
"Military people don't have much reason to visit uninhabited ruins, 
your Majesty." 
"Cthol Mishrak wasn't uninhabited," Garion told him. "The Chandim 
were there, and the Hounds, and other things I can't even put names 


to." 
"Religious fanatics," Atesca shrugged. "They do things for strange 
reasons. I'm told it was an unhealthy sort of place." 
Garion pointed at the Darshivan shore. "You're looking at another 
one, I'm afraid. I know that Melcenes are almost as skeptical as 
Tolnedrans, so I don't know how much you'll believe of what I'm going 
to tell you. Do you smell that peculiar odor in the air?" 
Atesca sniffed, then wrinkled his nose. "Not very pleasant, is it?" 
"Cthol Mishrak smelled exactly the same way. I'd guess that the cloud 
cover over Darshiva has been there for a dozen years at least." 
"I find that a bit hard to accept." 
"Look at those trees." Garion pointed at the snags. "What do you 
think it would take to kill a whole forest?" 
"Some kind of disease, I suppose." 
"No, General. Seedlings would have sprouted by now, and there's not 
even any undergrowth there. The trees died from lack of sunlight. The 
only thing growing out there now is fungus. It rains from time to 
time, and the rain water collects in pools. The sun doesn't come out 
to evaporate the water, so it just lies there and stagnates. That's a 
part of what you're smelling." 
"I seem to smell rust, too. Where's that coming from?" 
"I really don't know. At Cthol Mishrak it came from the ruins of 
Torak's iron tower. Darshiva's shrouded in perpetual gloom because 
it's the home of the Child of Dark." 
"I've heard the term before. Who is this Child of Dark?" 
"Zandramas—at least for the time being. Are you really sure you want 
to land your troops there?" 
"I have my orders, King Belgarion. My troops are well trained. 
They'll build a fortified enclave on that shore whether the sun 
shines or not. Then we'll wait for the Emperor. He has a number of 
decisions to make—not the least of which is what he's going to do 
about you." 
DAVID EDDINGS 
269 
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
They waited on board Atesca's ship while the soldiers went ashore and 
began to build the enclave. The Mal-lorean troops were quite nearly 
as efficient as the legions of Imperial Tolnedra, and in a very short 
period of time, they had cleared several acres of ground and erected 
a neat, orderly city of tents. It was surrounded on the inland side 
by breastworks, catapults, and a deep ditch bristling with sharpened 
stakes. A palisade of sharpened poles lined the river's edge, and a 
number of floating docks extended out into the water. 
It was midaftemoon when Garion and the others disembarked and were 
escorted to a large, guarded pavilion in the center of the enclave 
and politely, but firmly, asked to remain inside. 


268 
"Have you been able to contact Beldin?" Silk asked Bel-garath in a 
whisper. 
The old man nodded. "He's working on something." 
"I hope he doesn't take too long," the little man said. "I expect 
that once Zakath gets here, he'll decide that we need slightly more 
secure quarters—probably a place involving stout walls and locked 
doors." He made a sour fece. "I hate jails." 
"Don't you think you're exaggerating, Prince Kheldar?" Ce'Nedra 
asked. "Zakath's always behaved like a perfect gentleman." 
"Oh, of course," he replied with heavy sarcasm. "Why don't you tell 
that to all those Murgos he crucified on the plains of Hagga? He can 
be polite when it doesn't inconvenience him too much, but we've 
seriously irritated him. If we're not gone by the time he gets here, 
I expect he'll show us just how irritated he really is." 
"You're wrong, Prince Kheldar," Eriond said gravely. "He just doesn't 
know what he's supposed to do yet, that's all." 
"What's that supposed to mean?" 
"Back in Cthol Murgos, Cyradis told him that he was going to come to 
a crossroads in his life. This is it, I think. Once he makes the 
right choice, we can be friends again." 
"Just like that?" 
"More or less, yes." 
"Polgara, would you please make him stop that?" 
The tent was familiar. It was a Mallorean officer's pavilion with the 
usual red carpeting, and furniture which could be easily 
disassembled. They had been housed in this same kind of pavilion many 
times in the past. Garion looked around without much interest, then 
he sprawled on a bench. 
"What's the matter, Garion?" Ce'Nedra asked, coming over to sit 
beside him. 
"Isn't it obvious? Why don't they just leave us alone?" 
"I think you worry too much," she told him. She reached out and 
touched his forehead with one little finger. "Your friend in there 
isn't going to let anything happen that's not supposed to happen, so 
stop brooding about this. We're supposed to go to Kell, and Zakath 
couldn't stop us, even if he 
270 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
271 
brought his whole army back from Cthol Murgos and piled them in our 
path." 
"You're taking this all awfully calmly." 
"I have to believe, Garion," she replied with a little sigh. "If I 
didn't, I'd go insane." She leaned forward and kissed him. "Now get 


that grumpy look off your face. You're starting to look exactly like 
Belgarath."
"Of course I am. He's my grandfather, after all." 
"The resemblance shouldn't start to show up for several thousand
years yet, though," she said tartly. 
Two soldiers brought them a supper consisting of standard military 
rations. Silk opened one of the metal pots and looked inside. He 
sighed. "I was afraid of that." 
"What's the trouble, Kheldar?" Sadi asked him.
"Beans," Silk replied, pointing at the pot. 
"I thought you liked beans." 
"Not to eat, I don't." 
Because they had not slept the previous night, they retired early.
Garion tossed restlessly for a while and then finally dropped off. 
The following morning they all slept late, and Garion emerged from
the curtained-off compartment he shared with Ce'Nedra to find Silk
pacing up and down restlessly. "Finally," the little man said with 
some relief. "I thought everybody was going to sleep till noon." 
"What's your problem?" Garion asked him.
"I need somebody to talk to, that's all." 
"Lonesome?" 
"No. Edgy. Zakath's probably going to show up today. Do you suppose 
we ought to wake Belgarath?" 
"Why?" 
"To find out if Beidin's come up with a way to get us out of here, 
naturally." 
"You worry too much." 
"My, aren't we complacent this morning?" Silk snapped. 
"Not really, but there's not much point in chewing off all our 
fingernails over something that's out of our hands, is there?" 
"Garion, why don't you go back to bed?" 
"I thought you were lonesome." 
"Not that lonesome." 
"Has Atesca come by this morning?"
"No. He's probably fairly busy. He's going to have some sort of 
campaign mapped out by die time Zakath gets here.'' The little man 
flung himself into one of the folding chairs. **No matter what Beldin
comes up with, we're very likely to have at least a regiment hot on
our heels when we ride out of here," he predicted, "and I hate being 
chased." 
"We've had people chasing us ever since the night we left Faldor's 
farm. You should be used to it by now." 
"Oh, I am, Garion. I still don't like it, though." 
Perhaps an hour or so later, the others began to wake up, and not
long after that, the same red-garbed soldiers brought them breakfast.
The two men were the only people they had seen since they had been



confined in the pavilion. 
They spent the rest of the morning in desultory conversation. By 
unspoken agreement, no one mentioned their present situation.
About noon, General Atesca entered the tent. "His Imperial Majesty 
will arrive shortly," he announced. "His ships are approaching the 
docks." 
"Thank you, General," Belgaratb replied.
Atesca bowed stiffly and went back out. 
Polgara rose to her feet. "Come along, ladies," she said to Ce'Nedra 
and Velvet. "Let's go make ourselves presentable." 
Sadi looked down at his plain tunic and hose. "Hardly suitable for an
imperial audience," he said. "Do you think we ought to change?" 
"Why bother?" Belgarath shrugged. "Let's not give Zakath the 
impression that we take him seriously.''
"Don't we?" 
"Maybe, but we don't need to let him know about it." 
Not much later, the Emperor of Mallorea entered with General Atesca
and the Chief of the Bureau of Internal Affairs. As was his custom, 
Zakath wore a plain linen robe, but he had a scarlet military cape 
draped across his shoulders. His eyes were once again melancholy, and 
his pallid lips expressionless. "Good day, your Majesty," he said to 
Garion in a flat, emotionless tone. "You've been well, I trust?" 
272
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
273
"Tolerably, your Majesty," Garion replied. If Zakath wanted
formality, Garion would give him formality.
"Your extensive travels must have been fatiguing," Zakath said in
that same flat tone, "particularly for the ladies. I'll see to it
that your return journey to Mal Zeth is made in easy stages."
"Your Majesty is very kind, but we're not going back to Mal Zeth." 
"You're wrong, Belgarion. You are going back to Mal Zeth."
"Sorry. I've got a pressing engagement elsewhere." 
"I'll convey your regrets to Zandramas when I see her." 
"I'm sure she'd be overjoyed to hear that I'm not coming." 
"Not for very long, she won't. I fully intend to have her burned as a 
witch."
"Good luck, your Majesty, but I don't think you'll find that she's 
very combustible." 
"Aren't you gentlemen being just a little silly?" Polgara asked then. 
She had changed into a blue dress and she sat at a table, calmly
mending a pair of Eriond's socks. 
"Silly?" Zakath snapped, his eyes suddenly flashing. 
"You're still friends and you both know it. Now stop behaving like a 
couple of schoolboys." 



"I think you go too far, Lady Polgara," Zakath told her in a frigid
tone. 
"Really?" she replied. "I thought I'd described the situation rather 
accurately. You're not going to put Garion in chains, and he's not
going to turn you into a radish, so stop trying to bully each other." 
"I think we can continue this discussion some other time," Zakath 
said curtly. He bowed slightly to Polgara and left the tent. 
"Wasn't that perhaps a trifle abrupt, Lady Polgara?" Sadi asked her. 
"I don't think so," she replied. "It cut through a lot of nonsense." 
She carefully folded the socks she had been mending. "Eriond, I think 
it's time for you to trim your toenails again. You're cutting your 
way out of your socks faster than I can mend them." 
"He's gone back to being the way he was before, hasn't he?" Garion 
said sadly. "Zakath, I mean."
"Not entirely," Polgara disagreed. "Most of that was a pose to 
conceal his real feelings." She looked at Belgarath. "Well, father, 
has Uncle Beldin come up with anything yet?" 
"He was working on something this morning. I can't talk to him right
now because he's chasing a rabbit. We'll get back in touch after he
finishes his lunch." 
"Can't he concentrate on business?" 
"Oh, come now, Pol. I've known you to go out of your way for a fat
rabbit on occasion." 
"You don't!" Ce'Nedra gasped to Polgara, her eyes wide with sudden 
horror. 
"I really don't think you'd understand, dear," Polgara told her. "Why 
don't you bring me your gray dress? I noticed a rip in the hem and
I've already got my sewing box out." 
They waited out the remainder of the afternoon; after supper, they
sat around talking quietly. 
Silk squinted toward the door of the tent, beyond which the guards 
were posted. "Any luck with Beldin yet?" he whispered to Belgarath.
"He's working on something—something fairly exotic, I'd imagine, 
knowing Beldin. He's still hammering out the details. He'll tell me
the whole thing once he gets it put together. '' 
"Wouldn't it be better if the two of you worked on it together?" 
"He knows what he has to do. I'd just get in his way if I tried to
stick my oar in, too." The old man stretched and yawned. Then he 
stood up. "I don't know about the rest of you," he said, "but I think 
I'll go to bed." 
The next morning, Garion rose quietly, dressed, and slipped out of 
the curtained-off chamber, leaving Ce'Nedra still asleep. 
Durnik and Toth were seated at the table in the main part of the
pavilion with Belgarath.
"Don't ask me how he did it," Belgarath was saying. "All he told me
was that Cyradis agreed to come here when Toth summoned her.''



274 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
Durnik and Toth exchanged a few gestures. "He says he can do that," 
the smith translated. "Do you want her to come here now?" 
Belgarath shook his head. "No, let's wait until Zakath is in here 
with us. I know how much it tires her to project her image over long 
distances." He made a face. "Beldin suggests that we let the 
conversation get to a climax before we send for her, Beldin has urges 
in the direction of melodrama sometimes. WeVe all talked to him about 
it over the years, but he backslides from time to time. Good morning, 
Gar-ion." 
Garion nodded briefly to each of them, then sat at the table. "What's 
Cyradis going to be able to do that we can't?" he asked. 
"I'm not sure," Belgarath replied. "We all know that she has a 
peculiar effect on Zakath, though. He tends to lose his grip on 
things every time he sees her. Beldin wouldn't tell me exactly what 
he's got in mind, but he sounded disgustingly pleased with himself. 
Do you feel up to some theatricality this morning?" 
"Not really, but I suppose I can manage something." 
"You're supposed to goad Zakath a little—not too much, mind, but push 
him into making some threats. That's when we're supposed to call 
Cyradis. Don't be too obvious about it. Sort of lead him into it 
gradually." The old man looked at Toth. "Keep your eyes on me when 
Garion and Zakath start arguing," he instructed. "I'll cover my mouth 
and cough. That's when we'll need your mistress." 
Toth nodded. 
"Are we going to tell the others?" Garion asked. 
Belgarath squinted. "No," he decided. "Their reactions might be more 
natural if they don't know what's going on." 
Durnik smiled slightly. "I'd say that Beldin isn't the only one with 
a flair for the dramatic." 
"I used to be a professional storyteller, Durnik," Belgarath reminded 
him. "I can play an audience like a lute." 
After the others had awakened and breakfast had been served, General 
Atesca came into the tent. "His Imperial Majesty instructs that you 
make ready. You'll be departing for Mal Zeth within the hour.'' 
Garion moved quickly to head that off. "Tell his Imperial 
DAVID EDDINGS 
275 
Majesty that we're not going anyplace until we finish the 
conversation we started yesterday." 
Atesca looked momentarily startled, then recovered. "People do not 
speak so to the Emperor, your Majesty," he declared. 
"He might find it refreshing, then." 
Atesca drew himself up. "The Emperor is otherwise occupied at the 
moment." 


Garion leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "We'll wait," 
he said flatly. "That will be all, General." 
Atesca's face grew tight, then he bowed stiffly, turned, and went out 
without another word. 
"Garion!" Ce'Nedra gasped, "We're at Zakath's mercy, and you were
being deliberately rude."
"He hasn't been overly polite to me." Garion shrugged. "I told him we 
weren't going back to Mal Zeth, and he ignored me. It appears that 
sometimes it takes a bit to get his attention." 
Polgara was looking narrowly at Garion. Then she turned to Belgarath.
"What are you two up to, father?" she asked. 
He winked at her, but did not reply.
It took Kal Zakath approximately two minutes to arrive. He burst into 
the tent with his eyes wild and his face beet-red. "What do you 
mean?" he almost screamed at Garion. 
"What do you mean, what do I mean?"
"I gave you an imperial command!" 
"So? I'm not one of your subjects." 
"This is intolerable!" 
"You'll get used to it. You should know by now that I always do what 
I set out to do. I thought I'd made that point when we left Mal Zeth. 
I told you we were going to Ashaba, and that's exactly what we did." 
With some effort, the Emperor got himself under control. *4I was 
trying to protect you and your friends, you idiot," he said from
between clenched teeth. "You were riding directly into Mengha's 
path." 
"We didn't have any particular problem with Mengha." 
"Atesca told me that you'd killed him. I didn't get the details, 
though." Zakath seemed to have recovered his composure to some
degree. 
276
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
277
"Actually, I'm not the one who did it. Margravine Liselle killed
him." 
Zakath looked with one raised eyebrow at the dimpled Velvet. 
"His Majesty is perhaps overgenerous," she murmured with a little 
curtsy. "I had some help." 
"Help? From whom?"
"Zith, actually. Mengha was very surprised." 
"Will someone please tell me what happened without all this clever
repartee?" 
"It was really fairly simple, your Majesty," Silk said smoothly. "We 
were having a little disagreement with the Chandim and some others in
Torak's old throne room at Ashaba. Mengha was shouting orders to his 



men, and Liselle pulled Zith out of her bodice and threw the little 
green darling right into his face. Zith nipped him a few times, he 
stiffened up like a plank, and he was dead before he hit the floor." 
"You don't actually carry that snake down the front of your dress, do
you?" Zakath asked Velvet incredulously. "How can you?" 
"It took a bit of getting used to," she admitted, placing one modest
hand on her bodice. 
"It didn't really happen that way, did it?"
"Prince Kheldar's description of what took place was fairly accurate, 
your Imperial Majesty," Sadi assured him. "Zith was very put out. I 
think she was asleep when the Margravine threw her at Mengha, and
being awakened suddenly always makes her cross." 
"As it turns out, Zakath," Belgarath said, "Mengha was really one of 
the Chandim and Urvon's chief underling." 
"Yes, so Atesca told me. That puts Urvon behind what was going on in 
Karanda, doesn't it?" 
"Only marginally," Belgarath replied. "Urvon isn't sane enough to be 
behind much of anything. He's completely under the domination of a 
Demon Lord named Nahaz, and consorting with demons usually unhinges a 
man's mind. Urvon's totally convinced that he's a God now." 
"If he's that mad, who's running his campaign here? Atesca said that
his outflanking of the Darshivan army and their elephant cavalry was 
a stroke of tactical genius." 
"It's my guess that Nahaz is more or less in command, and Demon Lords 
pay very little attention to casualties. They also have ways of 
making people run very fast." 
"I've never gone to war with a Demon Lord before," Zakath mused.
"What's his objective?" 
"The Sardion," Garion replied. "Everybody wants to get his hands on
it—me included." 
"To raise a new God over Angarak?"
"That's its purpose, I suppose." 
"I don't think I'd like that. You liberated us from Torak, and I 
don't propose to see his replacement enthroned at either Mal Zeth or
Mal Yaska. Angarak doesn't need a God. It has me. Who's your 
candidate?" 
"I don't know yet. They haven't told me." 
"What am I going to do with you, Belgarion?" Zakath sighed. 
"You're going to let us go so we can do what we're supposed to do. 
You might not like the idea of a New God, but I think you'll find my
choice a lot more preferable to anything Zandramas or Urvon or
Agacnak might come up with." 
"Agachak?"
"The Hierarch of Rak Urga. He's here in Mallorea as well."
"I'll deal with him, too, then. That still leaves you, I'm afraid."
"I just told you what to do about me." 



A faint smile touched Zakath's lips. "I don't think I really like 
your proposal. You're a little undependable." 
"What's your goal in all this?" Belgarath asked him. 
"I'm going to restore order in Mallorea, even if I have to depopulate 
whole districts to do it. Since mis Sardion is the : tiling that's 
got everyone so agitated, I'd guess that my best course would be to 
find it and destroy it." 
"Good," Garion said, rising to his feet. "Let's go, then." 
"Oh, no, your Majesty." Zakath's tone was once again coldly imperial. 
"I don't trust you any more. I made that mistake once already. I can 
eliminate at least one of the people trying to reach the Sardion by 
sending you and your friends back to Mal Zeth under heavy guard. Then 
I can concentrate on looking for the Sardion myself.'' 
278 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
279 
"Where do you plan to start looking?" Garion asked him bluntly. The 
conversation, he decided, had moved around to the point where the 
goading Belgarath had suggested seemed to be in order. "You don't 
even know what you're looking for and you haven't got the faintest 
idea of where to start. You're just floundering around." 
"I don't think I care for that, Belgarion." 
"That's too bad. The truth is sometimes painful, isn't it?" 
"And I suppose you do know where it is?" 
"lean find out." 
"If you can, so can I, and I'm sure you'll give me a few clues." 
"Not a chance." 
"You'll grow more cooperative once I put a few of your friends on the 
rack. I'll even let you watch." 
"You'd better hire an expendable torturer, then. Haven't you realized 
yet just what I'm capable of? And all this time I thought you were 
intelligent." 
"I think that's quite enough, Belgarion," Zakath snapped. "Make 
ready. You're leaving for Mat Zeth; and to make sure you behave 
yourself, I'm going to separate all of you people. That should give 
me plenty of hostages in the event you decide to do something rash. I 
think that covers everything. This conversation is concluded." 
Belgarath covered his mouth with one hand and coughed. Toth nodded 
and lowered his head. 
Zakath stepped back in startled amazement as a shimmering apparition 
suddenly appeared directly in front of him. He glared at Garion. "Is 
this some kind of trick?" he demanded. 
"No tricks, Zakath," Garion replied. "She has some things to tell 
you. I suggest that you listen." 
"Wilt thou hear my words, Zakath?" the glowing form of the 


blindfolded Seeress of Kelt asked him. 
Zakath's face was still taut with suspicion. "What is it, Cyradis?" 
he asked bluntly. 
"My time with thee must needs be short, Emperor of Mallorea. I spoke 
to thee once concerning a crossroad in thy life. Thou hast reached 
mat point now. Put aside thine 
imperious manner and submit willingly to the task which I must lay 
upon thee. Thou hast spoken here of hostages." 
He drew himself up. "A custom, Cyradis," he told her. "It's a simple 
means of insuring good behavior." 
"Dost thou indeed feel so feeble that thou must threaten the innocent 
to impose thy will upon others?" Her tone was lightly touched with 
scorn. 
"Feeble? Me?" 
"Why else wouldst thou choose so cowardly a course? But hear me well, 
Kal Zakath, for thy life hangs in the balance. In the instant that 
thou dost raise thy hand against the Child of Light or any of his 
companions, thy heart shall burst, and thou shalt die between two 
breaths." 
"So be it then. I rule in Mallorea, and to change or falter because 
of any threat—even yours—is to become as nothing in my own eyes, and 
I will not do that." 
"Then shalt thou surely die, and in thy death shall thy mighty empire 
crumble into dust." She said it with a dreadful finality. 
He stared at her, his pale face growing even more livid. 
"Thou wilt not hear my warnings, Emperor of Mallorea, so I will make 
thee an offer instead. If thou dost require a hostage, / will be thy 
hostage. The Child of Light doth know that should I depart from this 
life ere my task is complete, his quest will surely fail. What better 
restraint canst thou place upon him?" 
"I will not threaten you, Holy Seeress," he said, sounding a bit less 
sure of himself. 
"And why not, mighty Zakath?" 
"It would not be appropriate," he said shortly. "Was that all you had 
to say to me? I have certain duties to attend to.'' 
"They are of no moment. Thine only true duties are to me and to the 
task which I shall lay upon thee. The completion of that task is the 
purpose of thy life. It was for that and for that only that thou wast 
born. Shouldst thou refuse it, thou wilt not live to see another 
winter." 
"That's the second time you've threatened my life since you arrived, 
Cyradis. Do you hate me so much?" 
"I do not hate thee, Zakath, and I made no threats. I merely revealed 
unto thee that which fate has in store for thee. Wilt thou accept thy 
task?" 


SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"Not until I know a little more about it." 
"Very well, then. I will reveal unto thee the first part of thy task. 
Thou must come to me at Kell, where I shall submit to thee. I shall 
be thy hostage, but thou art also surely mine. Come thou then to Kell
with die Child of Light and his other chosen companions; for, as hath
been foretold since the beginning of days, thou art of their 
company." 
"But—"
She held up one slim hand. "Leave behind thee thy retinue and thine 
army and thy symbols of power. They will be of no use to thee." She 
paused. "Or art thou fearful, O mighty Zakath, to go about in thy 
vast realm without thy soldiers clustered about thee to compel the 
stubborn knee to bend and to coerce the rebellious to submit to thy 
will?"
Zakath flushed angrily. "I fear nothing, Holy Seeress," he replied in 
a cold voice, "not even death." 
"Death is a small thing, Kal Zakath. Methinks it is life which thou
dost fear. As I have said, thou art my hostage, and I command thee to
come to me at Kell and there to take up thy burden." 
The Emperor of Mallorea began to tremble. Garion knew this man and he 
knew that Zakath would normally reject Cyradis' imperious command 
instantly, but he appeared seized by some overpowering compulsion. 
His trembling grew more violent, and his pale face broke out in a 
sweat. 
Cyradis, despite her blindfolded eyes, seemed to be aware of the
turmoil which had seized her "hostage." "Thy choice is well made, Kal
Zakath," she declared. "Thou wilt submit to me willingly—or with
reluctance—but thou must submit, for it is thy destiny." She drew 
herself up. "Speak now, Emperor of Mallorea, for thy fete requires 
thine acceptance of it. Wilt thou come to me at Kell?" 
He seemed to choke on it. "I will come," he croaked. 
"So be it then. Take thy foreordained place at Belgarion's side and 
come to the Holy City. There shall I instruct thee further in thy
task and tell thee why it is not merely thy life which doth hinge 
upon it, but the life of all this world." She turned slightly so that
her blindfolded eyes seemed to be looking at Garion. "Bring him to
me, Child of Light," she told him, "for all of this is a part of what 
must come to pass ere the final meeting." 
DAVID EDDINGS 


She stretched out her hand to Toth in a gesture of longing. 
And then she vanished. 
"And now we are twelve," Sadi murmured. 
The most recent recruit to their company, however, stood ashen-faced 
in the center of the tent, and Garion was astonished to see unshed 



tears standing in the eyes of the Emperor of Mallorea. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
283 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
"The Empty One," Eriond said with a slight note of satisfaction in 
his voice. "It's almost complete now." 
"I don't quite follow you," Sadi confessed. 
"Cyradis came to us at Rheon," the young man explained. "She told us 
who would come with us to the Place Which Is No More. I've been 
wondering who the Empty One would be. Now I know." 
"And how did she describe me?" the eunuch asked. 
"Are you really sure you want to know?" 
"I have a certain curiosity about it, yes." 
"She called you the Man Who Is No Man." 
Sadi winced. "That's direct enough, isn't it?" 
"You did ask." 
Sadi sighed. "It's all right, Eriond," he said. "The procedure took 
place when I was a baby, so I Ve never known 
282 
what it might be like to be different. Actually, I find all this 
interest in that particular function slightly amusing. Mine is a much 
less complicated way of life." 
"Why did they do it to you?" 
Sadi shrugged, rubbing his hand over his shaved scalp. "My mother was 
poor," he replied. "It was the only gift she could give me." 
"Gift?" 
"It gave me the chance for employment in Queen Sal-missra's palace. 
Otherwise, I'd have probably been a street beggar like the rest of my 
family.'' 
"Are you all right?" Garion asked the ashen-faced Zak-ath. 
"Just leave me alone, Garion," Zakath muttered. 
"Why don't you let me deal with it, dear?" Polgara suggested to 
Garion. "This is very difficult for him." 
"I can understand that. It didn't come too easily for me, either.'' 
"And we broke it to you gently. Cyradis didn't have time to be 
gentle. I'll talk with him." 
"All right, Aunt Pol." Garion walked away and left her alone with the 
shaken Zakath. This particular turn of events gave him some 
misgivings. Although he liked the Mallorean Emperor personally, he 
could foresee any number of difficulties arising from the inclusion 
of this man in their party. Quite often in the past, their very 
survival had depended entirely upon the absolute oneness of purpose 
of every member of the group, and Zakath's motives were never really 
clear. 
"Garion," the voice in his mind said wearily, "don't tamper with 
things you don't understand. Zakath has to go with you, so you might 


as well get used to the idea.''
"But—"
"No huts. Just do it. " 
Garion muttered a few oaths under his breath. 
' 'And don't swear at me, either. '' 
"This is an absurdity!" Zakath burst out, slumping into a chair. 
"No," Polgara disagreed. "You just have to get used to looking at the 
world in a different way, that's all. For most 
284
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
285
people, that's not necessary. You're a member of a very select group 
now, and different rules apply.'' 
"Rules have never applied to me, Lady Polgara. I make my own rules." 
"Not any more." 
"Why me?" Zakath demanded. 
"That's always the first question they ask," Belgarath said drily to
Silk. 
"Has anybody ever answered it?" 
"Not to my knowledge, no." 
"We can instruct you as we go along," Polgara assured Zakath. "The 
only important thing right now is whether or not you intend to honor 
your commitment to Cyradis." 
"Of course I do. I gave my word. I don't like it, but I don't have 
any choice. How can she possibly manipulate me the way she does?" 
"She has very strange powers." 
"She does it by sorcery, you mean?" 
"No. By truth." 
' 'Did you understand any of that gibberish she was speaking?" 
"Some of it, but certainly not all. I told you that we look at the 
world in a different way. The seers look at it in yet another. No one 
who does not share their vision can fully understand it." 
Zakath stared at the floor. "I suddenly feel very helpless," he 
admitted, "and I don't like the feeling. I've been rather effectively 
dethroned, you know. This morning I was the Emperor of the largest
nation on earth; this afternoon, I'm going to be a vagabond." 
"You might find it refreshing," Silk told him lightly. 
"Shut up, Kheldar," Zakath said almost absently. He looked back at 
Polgara. "You know something rather peculiar?"
"What's that?" 
"Even if I hadn't given my word, I'd still have to go to Kell. It's
almost like a compulsion. I feel as if I'm being driven, and my
driver is a blindfolded girl who's hardly more than a child." 
"There are rewards," she told him.
"Such as what?" 



"Who knows? Happiness, perhaps." 
He laughed ironically. "Happiness has never been a driving ambition 
of mine, Lady Polgara, not for a long time now." 
"You may have to accept it anyway." She smiled. "We aren't allowed to 
choose our rewards any more than we are our tasks. Those decisions 
are made for us." 
"Are you happy?" 
"Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I am." 
He sighed. 
"And why so great a sigh, Kal Zakath?" 
He held up his thumb and forefinger spread an inch or so apart. "I 
was that close to becoming the master of the entire world." 
"Why would you want to be?" 
He shrugged. "No one's ever done it before, and power has its 
satisfactions." 
"You'll find other satisfactions, I'm sure," she smiled, laying one 
hand on his shoulder. 
"It's settled?" Belgarath asked the Mallorean. 
"Nothing is ever really settled, Belgarath," Zakath replied. "Not 
until we're in our graves; but yes, I'll go to feell with you." 
"Why don't you send for Atesca, then? You'll need to tell him where 
you're going, so he can at least cover our rear. I don't like having 
people sneak up behind me. Has Urvon made it across the Magan as 
yet?" 
"That's very hard to say. Have you looked outside today, Belgarath?" 
"The tent door is guarded, and Atesca's soldiers don't encourage 
sight-seeing." 
"The fog's so thick you could walk on it. Urvon could be anyplace out 
there." 
Polgara rose and quickly crossed to the tent flap. She opened it, and 
one of the guards outside said something to her sharply. 
"Oh, don't be silly," she told him. Then she took several deep 
breaths and closed the flap. "It's not natural, father," «he said 
soberly. "It doesn't smell right." 
"Grolims?" 
"I think so, yes. Probably Chandim trying to conceal 
286 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
287 
Urvon's forces from Atesca's patrol boats. They should be able to 
cross the Magan without much difficulty." 
"Once they get across, the trip to Kell might just turn into a horse 
race." 
"I'll talk to Atesca," Zakath said. "He might be able to delay them a 
bit." He looked speculatively at the old man. "I know why I'm going 


to Kell," he said, "but why are you!" 
"I have to read the Mallorean Gospels to find out what our ultimate 
destination is." 
"You mean you don't know?"
"Not yet, no. I know what it's called, though. They keep calling it
the Place Which Is No More."
"Belgarath, that's pure gibberish." 
"I didn't come up with the name, so don't blame me,"
"Why didn't you say something back at Mat Zeth? I have a copy of the 
Gospels in my library."
"In the first place, I didn't know about it when I was at Mal Zeth. I 
only found out recently. In the second place, your copy wouldn't have
done me any good. They're all different, I'm told, and the only one 
that contains the passage I need is at Kell."
"It all sounds very complicated." 
"It is. These things usually are." 
Zakath went to the door of the tent and spoke briefly with one of the 
guards posted there. Then he came back. "I've sent for Atesca and 
Brador," he said. He smiled a bit ruefully. "I wouldn't be surprised 
if they objected rather violently to this whole thing."
"Don't give them time to object," Garion advised. 
"They're both Melcenes, Garion," Zakath pointed out. "Melcenes object
to things out of habit." He frowned. "Speaking of that, why did you
go to Melcena? Wasn't it a bit out of your way?" 
"We were following Zandramas," Garion replied. 
"Why did she go there?" 
"She had to pick up your cousin, Archduke Otrath." 
"That silly ass? What for?" 
"She took him to Hemil and crowned him Emperor of Mallorea." 
"She did whatT* Zakath's eyes bulged. 
"She needs an Angarak king with her when she gets to the Place Which
Is No More. As I understand it, the coronation ceremony had a certain 
validity." 
"Not after I get my hands on Otrath, it won't!" Zakath's face was 
scarlet with anger. 
**There was another reason for our going to Melcena— although we 
didn't know it at the time," Belgarath said. "There was an 
unmutilated copy of the Ashabine Oracles there. I had to read that in
order to find out that our next Step is the trip to Kell. I'm
following a trail that was laid down for me thousands of years ago." 
'. Atesca and Brador entered. "You sent for us, your Majesty?" Atesca 
said with a crisp salute. 
"Yes," Zakath replied. He looked at the two of them speculatively. 
"Please listen carefully," he instructed, "and try not to argue with
me." Oddly he said it not so much in the tone of imperial command, 
but rather as a man appealing to two old friends. "There's been a 



change of plans," ^Ss went on. "Certain information has come into my 
pos-session, and it's absolutely imperative that we not interfere 
with Belgarion and his friends. Their mission is vital to the 
security of Mallorea." 
Brador's eyes came alight with curiosity. "Shouldn't I 
perhaps be briefed on this matter, your Imperial Majesty?" 
; jpe asked. "State security is my responsibility, after all."* 
"Ah—no, Brador," Zakath said regretfully, "I'm afraid 
. aot. It might require too great an adjustment in your thinkv 
ing. You're not ready for that. As a matter of fact, I'm not 
f sure I am, either. At any rate, Belgarion and these others 
;. absolutely must go to Dalasia." He paused. "Oh, one other 
thing," he added. "I'll be going with them." ... Atesca stared 
incredulously at his Emperor. Then, with some effort, he got himself 
under control. "I'll notify the commander of the Imperial Guard, your 
Majesty," he said stiffly. "They'll be ready to leave within the 
hour." 
"Don't bother," Zakath told him. "They won't be going with us. I'll 
be going with Belgarion alone." .;..' "Alone?" Atesca exclaimed. 
"Your Majesty, that's un-heardof." 
i Zakath smiled wanly. "You see," he said to Garion. "What did I 
tell you?" 
288 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
289 
"General," Belgarath said to Atesca, "Kal Zakath is simply following 
orders. I'm sure you can understand that. He was told not to bring 
any troops along. Troops wouldn't do him any good where we're going 
anyway." 
"Orders?" Atesca said in amazement. "Who has the authority to give 
his Majesty orders?" 
"It's a long story, Atesca," the old man told him, "and we're pressed 
for time." 
"Ah—your Imperial Majesty," Brador said diffidently, "if you're going 
to Dalasia, that means you'll have to cross the whole of Darshiva. 
Might I remind you that Darshiva is hostile territory at the moment? 
Is it wise to risk the imperial person under such circumstances? 
Might not an escort at least as far as the border be prudent?" 
Zakath looked at Belgarath. 
The old man shook his head. "Let's just do it the way we were told 
to," he said. 
"Sorry, Brador," Zakath said. "We can't take an escort with us. I 
think I'll need some armor, though, and a sword." 
"Your Majesty has not held a sword for years," Atesca objected. 
"Belgarion can give me some instruction." Zakath shrugged. "I'm sure 


I'll pick it up again. Now then, Urvon's going to cross the Magan. I 
have it on very good authority that there won't be very much we can 
do to stop him. I imagine that the Darshivan Army won't be very far 
behind him, and they have elephant cavalry with them. I want you to 
keep all those people off my back. Delay Urvon long enough for the 
Darshivans to catch up with him. After that, they can annihilate each 
other, for all I care. Once those two armies are fully engaged, pull 
back your forces. Don't get any more of my soldiers killed than you 
absolutely have to." 
Atesca frowned. "Then the policy we discussed at Maga Renn is no 
longer in force?" he asked. 
Zakath shrugged. "Policy changes from time to time," he said. "At 
this point, I'm militantly indifferent about who wins an unimportant 
battle in this corner of the world. That may give you some idea of 
just how vital Belgarion's mission 
is." He looked at Garion. "Does that cover everything?" 
"Except for the demons," Garion replied. "They're here in Darshiva, 
too." 
.Zakath frowned. "I'd forgotten about them. They'll come to Urvon's 
aid, won't they?" 
"Nahaz will," Belgarath told him. "Mordja will help the Darshivans." 
"You're going a little fast for me." 
"When Urvon showed up with Nahaz in tow, Zandramas raised a Demon 
Lord of her own," the old man explained. "She went a little far 
afield for him, actually. Mordja is Lord over the demons in 
Morindland. He and Nahaz are evenly matched, and they've hated each 
other for all eternity." 
"Then it still appears to be a stalemate. Both sides have an army and 
they both have demons." 
"Demons are grossly unselective in their choice of victims, Zakath," 
Polgara said. "They'll kill anything that moves, and your own army's 
here in Darshiva." 
"I hadn't thought of that," he conceded. He looked around. "Any 
suggestions?" 
Belgarath and Polgara exchanged a long look. "I suppose 

• v H's worth a try," the old sorcerer shrugged. "He's not fond
>r of Angaraks, but He's even less fond of demons. I think we'll have 
better luck with Him if we go outside the camp, though." 
"Exactly who are we talking about?" Zakath asked curiously.
'-., "Aldur," Belgarath replied. He scratched at his cheek. 
5 "Would it be safe to tell Him that you'd be very reluctant
•v to go with us if your army was in danger?" he asked. 
-•' "I think you could say that, yes." Zakath's eyes widened. 
"Are you trying to say you can actually summon a God?" he asked 
incredulously.
-:: "I'm not sure if summon is exactly the right word. We

can talk with Him, though. We'll see what He says," 0, "You're 
not really going to try subterfuge, are you, fa-g tiler?" Polgara 
asked the old man. 
% "Aldur knows what I'm doing," he replied. "I couldn't £:' 
deceive Him if I tried. Zakath's reluctance just gives us a 
290 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
starting point for the conversation. Aldur's reasonable, but He's 
always liked a good argument. You should know that, Pol. He helped to 
educate you, after all. Let's see if we can talk with Him." 
"Would it be all right if I came along?" Eriond asked. "I need to 
talk with Him, too." 
Belgarath looked a bit surprised at that. He looked for a moment as 
if he were about to refuse, but then he seemed to change his mind. 
"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "Atesca, could you have your guards 
escort us as far as that ditch around the outside of the camp? We'll 
go on from there alone." 
Atesca spoke with the guards at the door of the tent, and the three 
were allowed to leave without challenge. 
"I'd give a great deal to witness this meeting," Brador murmured. 
"Have you ever seen Aldur, Prince Kheldar?" 
"A couple of times, yes," Silk replied in an offhand manner. "Once in 
the Vale and then again at Cthol Mishrak when He and the other Gods 
came to claim the body of Torak after Garion killed Him." 
"I'd imagine that He took a certain satisfaction in that," Zakath 
said. "Aldur and Tbrak were sworn enemies." 
"No," Garion disagreed sadly. "No one took any pleasure in the death 
of Torak. He and Aldur were brothers. I think UL grieved the most, 
though. Torak was His son, after all." 
"There seem to be some fairly huge gaps in Angarak theology," Zakath 
mused. "I don't think the Grolims even admit the existence of UL." 
"They would if they ever saw Him," Silk said. 
"Is He really that impressive-looking?" Brador asked. 
"It's not so much the way He looks." Silk shrugged. "It's the sense 
of His presence. It's overwhelming." 
"He was very nice to me," Ce'Nedra objected. 
"Everybody's nice to you, Ce'Nedra," Silk told her. "You have that 
effect on people.'' 
"Most of the time," Garion corrected. 
"I suppose we'd better start packing," Durnik suggested. "I think 
Belgarath's going to want to leave just as soon as he gets back." He 
looked at Atesca. "Do you suppose we could get a few things from your 
stores?" he asked. "It's a 
DAVID EDDINGS 
291 
long way to Kell, and I don't think we'll be able to pick up much in 


the way of supplies here in Darshiva." 
"Of course, Goodman Durnik," the general replied. 
"I'll make out a list of the things we'll need, then." 
As Durnik sat down at the table to draw up his list, Atesca gave Silk 
a penetrating look. "We never did get the chance to talk about your 
recent venture in the commodities market, did we, your Highness?" he 
said. 
"Are you considering a second career, Atesca?" Zakath asked him. 
"Hardly, your Majesty. I'm quite happy as a soldier. Prince Kheldar 
recently did a bit of speculation in this year's bean crop. The 
Bureau of Military Procurement went into a state of anguished 
consternation when they found out his asking price." 
Brador suddenly chuckled. "Good for you, Kheldar," he said. 
"That's a peculiar attitude, Brador," Zakath reproved him. "How would 
you like it if I took Prince Kheldar's excess profits out of your 
budget?" 
"Actually, your Majesty, Kheldar's venture didn't cost your treasury 
a thing. The members of the Bureau of Military Procurement are the 
greatest unhanged scoundrels in the empire. Some years ago, while you 
were busy in Cthol Murgos, they sent you a rather innocuous-looking 
document having to do with standardizing the prices of all the items 
they purchase for the army." 
"I remember it—vaguely. Their argument seemed to be that it would 
provide a basis for long-range planning." 
"That was on the surface, your Majesty. In actuality, fixing those 
prices provided them with a golden opportunity to line their own 
pockets. They could buy at below the fixed price, sell to the army at 
the legal rate, and keep the difference for themselves." 
"What is the fixed rate on beans?" 
"Ten half-crowns per hundredweight, your Majesty." 
"That doesn't seem unreasonable." 
"When they're buying at three half-crowns?" 
Zakath stared at him. 
Brador held up one hand. "However," he said, "by law, they have to 
sell to the army at ten—no matter what price 
292 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
they have to pay, so they have to make up the difference out of their 
own pockets. That might account for the anguish General Atesca 
mentioned." 
Zakath suddenly grinned a wolfish sort of grin. "What price were you 
asking, Kheldar?" he asked. 
"I sold out to the Melcene Consortium at fifteen." The little man 
shrugged, buffing his nails on the front of his tunic. "I'd imagine 
that they added a few points to that-reasonable profit, you 
understand." 


"And you controlled the entire bean crop?" 
"I certainly tried." 
"I feel fairly sure that your Majesty will receive several letters of 
resignation from members of the Bureau," Brador said. "I'd advise not 
accepting them until after all accounts are settled." 
"I'll keep that in mind, Brador." Zakath looked specu-latively at 
Silk. "Tell me, Kheldar," he said, "how much would you take to 
suspend operations here in Mallorea?" 
"I don't really believe your Majesty's treasury has that much 
money," Silk replied blandly. "Besides, I've become a sort of 
necessity. The Mallorean economy was stagnant until I got here. You 
could almost say that I'm working for you." 
"Did that make any sense?" Zakath asked Brador. 
"Yes, your Majesty," Brador sighed. "In a peculiar way, it does. Our 
tax revenues have been rising steadily since Kheldar and his scruffylooking 
partner began doing business here in the empire. If we were 
to expel him, it's entirely possible that the economy would 
collapse." 
"Then I'm at his mercy?" 
"To some degree, yes, your Majesty." 
Zakath sighed mournfully. "I wish I hadn't gotten out of bed this 
morning," he said. 
Both Belgarath and Polgara looked troubled when they returned with 
Eriond close behind them. The blond young man, however, looked as 
unconcerned as always. 
"What did He say?" Garion asked. 
"He didn't like it too much," Belgarath said, "but He finally agreed. 
General Atesca, how many troops do you have here in Darshiva?" 
"Several hundred thousand. They're in enclaves like this 
DAVID EDDINGS 
293 
one up and down the east bank of the Magan. The bulk of our forces 
are across the river in Peldane. We can summon them on short notice." 
"Leave them where they are. Once you've delayed Urvon long enough to 
allow the Darshivan army to catch up with him, withdraw all your men 
to this enclave." 
"It's hardly big enough for that many men, Ancient One," Atesca 
pointed out. 
"You'd better expand it, then. Aldur has agreed to protect this 
enclave. He didn't say anything about any of the others. Bring your 
men here. He'll keep the demons away." 
"How?" Brador asked curiously. 
"Demons can't bear the presence of a God. Neither Na-haz nor Mordja 
will come within ten leagues of this place.'' 
"He's actually going to be here?" 
"Only in a rather peculiar sense of the word. Once the enclave is 


expanded, that ditch of yours is going to be filled with a kind of 
blue light. Tell your men to stay out of it. Aldur's still not fond 
of Angaraks, and peculiar things might happen to any soldier who 
strays into that light." The old man suddenly grinned at Zakath. "You 
might find it interesting to know that your whole army here in 
Darshiva will be at least nominally subject to Aldur for a while," he 
said. "He's never had an army before, so it's a little hard to say 
what he might decide to do with one." 
"Is your grandfather always like this?" Zakath asked Garion. 
"Usually, yes." Garion stood up, moving his fingers slightly. Then he 
crossed to the far side of the tent. Belgarath followed him. "What 
happened out there, Grand-lather?" Garion whispered. 
Belgarath shrugged. "We talked with Aldur, and He promised to protect 
Zakath's army." 
Garion shook his head. "No," he said, "something else happened, too. 
Both you and Aunt Pol were looking very strange when you came 
back—and why did Eriond go with you?" 
"It's a long story," the old man replied evasively. 
"I've got time. I think I'd better know what's going on." 
"No, as a matter of fact, you'd better not. Aldur was 
294 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
quite emphatic about that. If you know what's happening, it might 
interfere with what you have to do." 
"I thought we'd exhausted that tired old excuse a long time ago. I'm 
grown now. You don't have to try to keep me stupid." 
"I'll tell you what, Garion. Since you're the Child of Light, why 
don't you go talk with Aldur yourself? He might even decide to tell 
you, but that's up to Him. He told me to keep my mouth shut, and I'm 
not going to disobey my Master, whether you like it or not." And he 
turned and went back to rejoin the others. 
CHAPTER NINETEEN 
"I still don't understand why I have to look so shabby," Zakath said 
as he reentered the pavilion. He wore a battered breastplate over a 
mail shirt and a rust-splotched helmet devoid of any kind of 
decoration. A patched brown cloak was draped over his shoulders, and 
a plain, leather-bound sword hung at his side. 
"Explain it to him, Silk," Belgarath said. "You're the expert at this 
sort of thing." 
"It's really not all that complicated," Silk told the Emperor. "It's 
fairly standard practice for travelers to hire a few mercenary 
soldiers to act as armed guards. Mercenaries don't usually spend all 
that much time taking care of their equipment, so we had to make you 
look a bit down at the heels. All you and Garion have to do is wear 
armor and ride tn front looking dangerous." 
295 


296 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
297 
A faint smile touched the Mallorean's pallid features. "I didn't 
think anonymity would require such pains." 
Silk grinned at him. "Actually, it's harder to be anonymous than it 
is to be a grand duke. Now, please don't be offended, Zakath, but 
we're all going to forget we know how to say 'your Majesty.' Someone 
might make a slip at the wrong time." 
"That's perfectly all right, Kheldar," Zakath replied. "All the 
'Majesties' grate on my ears sometimes anyway." 
Silk looked closely at their newest recruit's face. "You really ought 
to spend more time outside, you know. You're as pale as a sheet." 
"I can take care of that, Silk," Polgara said. "I'll mix up something 
to make him look suitably weather-beaten." 
"Oh, one other thing," Silk added. "Your face is on every coin in 
Mallorea, isn't it?" 
"You should know. You've got most of them, haven't you?" 
"Well, I've picked up a lew here and there," Silk said modestly. 
"Let's cover up that famous face with whiskers. Stop shaving." 
"Kheldar, I haven't shaved my own face since my beard sprouted. I 
wouldn't even know how to hold a razor." 
"You let somebody else near your throat with a razor? isn't that a 
trifle imprudent?" 
"Does that more or less cover everything?" Belgarath asked the little 
Drasnian. 
"That covers the basics," Silk replied. "I can coach him on the finer 
details as we go along." 
"All right, then." The old man looked around at them. "We're likely 
to encounter people out there. Some of them might be hostile, but 
most of them will probably just be trying to stay out of harm's way, 
so they won't bother a group of ordinary travelers," He looked 
directly at Zakath. "Silk should be able to talk us out of most 
situations, but if we get into any serious confrontations, I want you 
to fall back a bit and let the rest of us handle things. You're out 
of practice with your weapons, and I didn't go to all the trouble of 
finding you to lose you in some meaningless skirmish." 
"I can still carry my own weight, Belgarath." 
"I'm sure you can, but let's not risk it right at first. Cy-radis 
might be very unhappy if we don't have you with us in one piece when 
we get to Kell." 
Zakath shrugged, walked over, and sat on the bench beside Garion. Hie 
Rivan King was dressed in his mail shirt and he was sliding the snugfitting 
leather sleeve over the hilt of Iron-grip's sword. Zakath was 
actually grinning, and the unaccustomed expression made him look ten 


years younger. Garion was uncomfortably reminded of Lelldorin. **I 
think you're actually enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked. 
"For some reason, I feel almost like a young man again," Zakath 
replied. "Is it always like this—subterfuge and a little danger and 
this wild sense of exhilaration?" 
"More or less," Garion replied. "Sometimes there's more than just a 
little danger, though." 
"I can live with that. My life's been tediously secure so fer." 
"Even when Naradas poisoned you back in Cthol Mur-gos?" 
"I was too sick to know what was going on," Zakath said. "I envy you, 
Garion. You've had a wildly exciting life." He frowned slightly. 
"Something rather peculiar is happening to me," he confessed. "Ever 
since I agreed to meet Cyradis at Kell, I've felt as if some vast 
weight had been lifted off me. The whole world looks fresh and new 
BOW. I have absolutely no control over my life, and yet I'm as happy 
as a fish in deep water. It's irrational, but I can't help it." 
Garion looked rather closely at him. "Don't misunderstand," he said. 
"I'm not deliberately trying to be mystical about this, but you're 
probably happy because you're doing what you're supposed to do. It 
happens to all of us. It's a part of that different way of looking at 
things Aunt Pol mentioned earlier, and it's one of the rewards she 
talked about." 
"That's a little obscure for me," Zakath admitted. 
"Give it some time," Garion told him. "It comes to you gradually." 
General Atesca entered the tent with Brador close behind him. "The 
horses are ready, your Majesty," he reported in 
298 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
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299 
a neutral tone. Garion could tell by Atesca's expression that he 
still strongly disapproved of this whole business. The General turned 
to Durnik. "I've added a few more pack animals, Goodman," he said. 
"Yours were fairly well loaded down." 
"Thank you, General," Durnik replied. 
"I'm going to be out of touch, Atesca/' Zakath said, "so I'm leaving 
you in charge here. I'll try to get word to you from time to time, 
but there may be long periods when you won't hear from me." 
"Yes, your Majesty," Atesca replied. 
"You know what to do, though. Let Brador handle civil matters, and 
you deal with the military situation. Get the troops back here to 
this enclave as soon as Urvon and the Darshivans are engaged. And 
keep in touch with Mal Zeth." He tugged a large signet ring off his 
finger. "Use this if you need to seal any official documents." 
"Such documents require your Majesty's signature," Atesca reminded 
him. 


"Brador can forge it. He writes my name better than I do myself-' * 
"Your Majesty!" Brador protested. 
"Don't play innocent with me, Brador. I Ve known about your 
experiments in penmanship. Take care of my cat while I'm gone, and 
see if you can find homes for the rest of those kittens." 
"Yes, your Majesty." 
"Anything else that needs my attention before I leave?" 
"Ah—one thing, your Majesty," Atesca said. "A disciplinary matter." 
"Can't you take care of it?" Zakath asked a bit irritably. He was 
obviously impatient to be off. 
"I can, your Majesty," Atesca said, "but you've sort of placed the 
man under your personal protection, so I thought I'd consult with you 
before I took action."
"Whom am I protecting?" Zakath looked puzzled. 
"It's a corporal from the Mal Zeth garrison, your Majesty—a man named
Actas. He was drunk on duty." 
"Actas? I don't recall—" 
"It was that corporal who'd been demoted just before we arrived in
Mal Zeth," Ce'Nedra reminded him. "The 
one whose wife was making such a scene in that side street." 
"Oh, yes," Zakath said. "Now I remember. Drunk, you say? He's not 
supposed to drink any more." 
"I doubt if he could drink any more, your Majesty," Atesca said with
a faint smile, "at least not right now. He's as drunk as a lord."
"Is he nearby?" 
"Just outside, your Majesty." 
Zakath sighed. "I guess you'd better bring him in," he said. He
looked at Belgarath. "This should only take a moment or two," he
apologized. 
Garion remembered the scrawny corporal as soon as the fellow 
staggered into the tent. The corporal tried to come to attention,
without much success. Then he at-tempted to bang his breastplate in a 
salute, but hit himself in the nose with his fist instead. "Yer 
Imperrl Majeshy," he slurred. 
"What am I going to do with you, Actas," Zakath said wearily. 
* *I Ve made a beash of myshelf, yer Majeshy,'' Actas confessed, "an 
absholute beash." 
"Yes," Zakath agreed, "you have." He turned his head away. "Please 
don't breathe on me, Actas. Your mouth smells like a reopened grave. 
Take him out and sober him op, Atesca." 
"I'll personally throw him in the river, your Majesty." Atesca was 
trying to suppress a grin.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" 
"Me, your Majesty?" 
Zakath's eyes narrowed slyly. "Well, Ce'Nedra?" he said. "He's your
responsibility, too. What do we do with him?" 



She waved one little hand negligently. "Hang him," she said in an 
indifferent tone. She looked more closely at her hand. "Great 
Nedra!" she exclaimed. "I've broken another fingernail!" 
Corporal Actas' eyes were bulging and his mouth was suddenly agape. 
Trembling violently, he fell to his knees. "Please, your Majesty," he 
begged, suddenly cold sober. "Please!" 
300 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
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301 
Zakath squinted at the Rivan Queen, who sat mourning the broken nail. 
"Take him outside, Atesca," he said. "I'll give you orders for his 
final disposition in a moment.1' 
Atesca saluted and hauled the blubbering Actas to his feet. 
"You weren't really serious, were you, Ce'Nedra?" Zakath asked after 
the two men had left. 
"Oh, of course not," she said. "I'm not a monster, Zakath. Clean him 
up and send him back to his wife." She tapped one finger thoughtfully 
on her chin. "But erect a gibbet in the street in front of his house. 
Give him something to think about the next time he gets thirsty.'' 
"You actually married this woman?" Zakath exclaimed to Garion. 
"It was sort of arranged by our families," Garion replied with 
aplomb. "We didn't have much to say about it." 
"Now, be nice, Garion," Ce'Nedra said with unruffled calm. 
They mounted their horses outside the pavilion and rode through the 
camp to the drawbridge spanning the deep, stake-studded ditch that 
formed a part of the outer fortifications. When they reached the far 
side of the ditch, Zakath let out an explosive breath of relief. 
"What is it?" Garion asked him. 
' 'I was half afraid that somebody might have found a way to keep me 
there." He glanced a bit apprehensively back over his shoulder. "Do 
you think we could possibly gallop for a ways?" he asked. "I'd hate 
to have them catch up with me." 
Garion began to have misgivings at that point. "Are you sure you're 
all right?" he asked suspiciously. 
"I've never felt better—or more free—in my entire life," Zakath 
declared. 
"I was afraid of that," Garion muttered. 
"What?" 
"Just keep moving at a canter, Zakath. There's something I need to 
discuss with Belgarath. I'll be right back." He reined Chretienne in 
and rode back to where his grandfather and his aunt rode side by 
side, deep in conversation. "He's absolutely out of control," he told 
them. "What's happened to him?" 
"It's the first time in his entire life that he hasn't had the weight 
of half the world on his shoulders, Garion," Polgara replied calmly. 


"He'll settle down. Just give him a day or 
so." 
"Do we have a day or so? He's acting exactly the way LeHdorin
would—or maybe even Mandorallen. Can we afford that?" 
"Talk to him," Belgarath suggested. "Just keep talking. Recite the 
Book of Atom to him if you have to."
"But I don't know the Book ofAlorn, Grandfather," Gar-ion objected. 
"Yes, you do. It's in your blood. You could have recited it letterperfect
in your cradle. Now get back up there before he gets
completely out of hand." 
Garion swore and rode back to rejoin Zakath. 
"Trouble?" Silk asked him.
"I don't want to talk about it."
Beldin was waiting for them around the next bend in the road. 
"Well," the grotesque little hunchback said. "It seems to have 
worked, but why did you bring him along?"
"Cyradis persuaded him to come with us," Belgarath replied. "What
gave you the idea of going to her?" 
"It was worth a try. Pol told me about a few of the things she said
to him back in Cthol Murgos. She seems to have some sort of interest
in him. I didn't really think he was ' supposed to join us, though. 
What did she say to him?" 
"She told him that he'd die if he didn't come with us." 
"I imagine that got his attention. Hello, Zakath." 
"Do we know each other?" 
"I know you—by sight, anyway. IVe seen you parading through the 
streets of Mal Zeth a few times." 
"This is my brother Beldin," Belgarath introduced the misshapen 
dwarf. 
"I didn't know you had any brothers."
"The relationship's a bit obscure, but we serve the same Master, so 
that makes us brothers in a peculiar sort of way. There used to be 
seven of us, but there are only four of us left now." 
Zakath frowned slightly. "Your name rings a bell, Master Beldin," he
said. "Aren't you the one whose picture is 
302
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
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303
posted on every tree for six leagues in any direction from Mal
Yaska?"
"I believe that's me, all right. I make Urvon a little nervous. He 
seems to think that I want to split him up the middle." 
"Do you?" 
"I've thought about it a time or two. I think what I'd really like to 
do, though, is yank out his guts, hang them on a thornbush, and 



invite in some vultures. I'm sure he'd find watching them eat very
entertaining." 
Zakath blanched slightly. 
"Vultures have to eat, too." The hunchback shrugged. "Oh, speaking of 
eating. Pol, do you have anything decent around? All I've had in the 
last few days was a very scrawny rat and a nest full of crow's eggs. 
I don't think there's a rabbit or a pigeon left in the whole of 
Darshiva." 
"This is a very unusual fellow," Zakath said to Garion. 
"He gets more unusual the more you get to know him." Garion smiled 
slightly. "He frightened Urvon almost into sanity at Ashaba." 
"He was exaggerating, wasn't he—about the vultures, I mean?" 
"Probably not. He fully intends to gut Torak's last Disciple like a 
butchered hog." 
Zakath's eyes grew bright. "You think he might want some help?" he 
asked eagerly.
"Were any of your ancestors possibly Arendish?" Garion asked
suspiciously. 
"I don't understand the question." 
"Nevermind." Garion sighed. 
Beldin squatted in the dirt at the roadside, tearing at the carcass 
of a cold roast chicken. "You burnt it, Pol," he accused. 
"I didn't cook it, uncle," she replied primly. 
"Why not? Did you forget how?" 
"I have a wonderful recipe for boiled dwarf," she told him. "I'm 
almost sure I could find someone willing to eat that sort of thing." 
"You're losing your edge again, Pol," he said, wiping his greasy 
fingers on the front of his ragged tunic. "Your mind's getting as 
flabby as your bottom." 
Garion restrained Zakath with one hand when the Mal-lorean Emperor's
face grew outraged. "It's a personal thing," he cautioned. "I 
wouldn't interfere. They've been .insulting each other for thousands 
of years. It's a peculiar kind of love, I think." 
"Love?" 
"Listen," Garion suggested. "You might learn something. Alorns aren't 
like Angaraks. We don't bow very often and we sometimes hide our 
feelings with jokes." 
"Polgara is an Alorn?" Zakath sounded surprised. 
"Use your eyes, man. Her hair's dark, I'll grant you, but her twin
sister was as blond as a wheat field. Look at her cheekbones and her 
jaw. I rule a kingdom of Alorns and I know what they look like. She 
and Liselle could be sisters." 
"Now that you mention it, they do look a bit alike, don't they? How 
is it I never saw that before?" 
"You hired Brador to be your eyes," Garion replied, > shifting his 
mail shirt. "I don't trust other peoples' eyes all vthat much." 



"Is Beldin an Alorn, too?" 
"Nobody knows what Beldin is. He's so deformed that you can't put a 
name to him." ;. "Poor fellow." 
[- "Don't waste your pity on Beldin," Garion replied. "He's »'«x 
thousand years old and he could turn you into a frog if he felt like 
it. He can make it snow or rain, and he's far, tar smarter than 
Belgarath." 
;• "But he's so grubby," Zakath said, eyeing the filthy dwarf. 
"He's grubby because he doesn't care," Garion said. v "This is the 
form he uses to go among us. It's ugly, so he doesn't waste time on 
it. His other form is so magnificent it would blind you." 
"Other form?" 
"It's a peculiarity of ours. Sometimes a human form isn't practical 
for some of the things we have to do. Beldin likes to fly, so he 
spends most of his time as a blue-banded hawk." 
"I'm a falconer, Garion. I don't believe there is such a bird." 
304 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
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305 
"Tell him that." Garion pointed at the ugly dwarf ripping the chicken 
apart with his teeth by the roadside. 
"You could have cut it up first, uncle," Polgara said. 
"Why?" He took another huge bite. 
"It's more polite." 
"Pol, I taught you how to fly and how to hunt. Don't you try to teach 
me how to eat." 
"I don't think 'eat' is the right word, uncle. You're not an eater; 
you're a ravener." 
"We all do it our own way, Pol." He belched. "You do it with a silver 
fork off a porcelain plate, and I do it with my talons and beak in a 
ditch beside the road. It all gets to the same place no matter how 
you do it." He raked a patch of burned skin off the chicken leg he 
was holding in one hand. "This isn't too bad," heconceded, "at least 
not after you get down to the real meat." 
"Anything up ahead?" Belgarath asked him. 
"A few troops, some terrified civilians, and a Grolim now and then. 
That's about it." 
"Any demons?" 
"I didn't see any. Of course that doesn't mean they're not lurking 
around somewhere. You know how it is with demons. Are you going to 
travel at night again?" 
Belgarath thought about it. "I don't think so," he decided. "It takes 
too long to do it that way, and time's running out on us. Let's just 
make a run for it." 
"Suit yourself." Beldin discarded the remains of the chicken and 


stood up. "I'll keep an eye out up ahead and let you know when you're 
about to run into trouble." The hunchback bent, spread his arms, and 
soared up into the murky sky. 
"Torak's teeth!" Zakath exclaimed. "He is a blue-banded hawk!"
"He invented it himself," Belgarath said. "He didn't like the regular 
colors. Let's move along." 
Although it was nearly summer, there was a dreary chill hanging over 
Darshiva. Garion could not be certain if it was the result of the 
prevailing overcast or if it derived from some other, more ominous, 
source. The white snags of dead trees lined the road, and the air was 
thick with the reek of fungus, decay, and stagnant water. They passed 
longdeserted 
villages tumbled now into ruins. A roadside temple seemed to 
huddle mournfully with fungus creeping up its walls like some
loathesotne disease. Its doors gaped open, and the polished steel
mask of the face of Torak, which should have surmounted them, was 
gone. Belgarath reined in his horse and dismounted. "I'll be right
back," he said. He went up the steps of the temple and looked inside. 
Then he turned and came back. "I thought they might have done that," 
he said. 
"Done what, father?" Aunt Pol asked him.
"They've taken Torak's face down from the wall behind the altar. 
There's a blank mask there now. They're waiting to see what the New
God looks like." 
They took shelter for the night beside the half-tumbled wall of a 
ruined village. They built no fire and traded off standing watch. At 
first light the next morning, they pushed on. The countryside grew 
more bleak and foreboding with each passing mile. 
About midmorning, Beldin swooped in, flared his wings, and settled to 
earth. He shimmered into his own form and stood waiting for them. 
"There are some troops blocking the road about a mile ahead," he
announced. 
"Any chance of getting around them?" Belgarath asked. 
"I doubt it. The country's pretty flat there, and all the 
vegetation's been dead for years." 
"How many are there?" Silk asked. 
"Fifteen or so. They've got a Grolim with them." 
"Any idea which side they're on?" Belgarath said.
"They're not that distinctive." 
'' Do you want me to see if I can talk our way past them?'' Silk
offered.
Belgarath looked at Beldin. "Are they deliberately blocking the road, 
or are they just camped on it?"
"They've built a barricade out of dead logs." 
"That answers that, then. Talk isn't going to do us any good." He 
mulled it over. 



"We could wait until dark and then slip around them," Velvet 
suggested. 
"We'd lose a whole day that way," Belgarath replied. "I don't see any 
help for it. We're going to have to go through 
306 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
307 
them. Try not to kill any more of them than you absolutely have to." 
"That gets right to the point, doesn't it?" Zakath said wryly to 
Garion. 
"There's no sense in trying to surprise them, I suppose?" Belgarath 
asked Beldin. 
The dwarf shook his head. "They'll see you coming for at least a half 
a mile." He went to the side of the road, wrenched a half-rotten 
stump out of the ground, and pounded it against a rock until all the 
decayed wood had been knocked loose. The gnarled taproot made a 
fearsome-looking cudgel. 
"Well, I guess we'd better go have a look," Belgarath said bleakly. 
They rode on to the crest of the hill and looked down the road toward 
the barricade and the troops standing behind it. Zakath peered at 
them. "Darshivans," he said. 
"How can you tell from this distance?" Silk asked him. 
"By the shape of their helmets." The Mallorean narrowed his eyes. 
"Darshivan soldiers are not notoriously brave and they get very 
little in the way of training. Do you think there might be some way 
we can lure them out from behind that barricade?" 
Garion looked down at the soldiers crouched behind their logs. "I'd 
say they've been told not to let anybody past," he said. "What if we 
charge mem and then at the last minute swing out and around them? 
They'll run for their horses. Then we turn around and charge back at 
them. They'll be confused and milling around, and we'll be able to 
pin them up against their own barricade. It shouldn't be too hard to 
put a fair number of them on the ground. The rest should run at that 
point." 
"That's not a bad plan, Garion. You're quite a tactician. Have you 
had any formal military training?" 
"No. I just picked it up." 
In a land of brittle, dead trees, a lance was quite out of the 
question, so Garion strapped his shield to his left arm and drew his 
sword. 
"All right," Belgarath said, "let's give it a try. It might hold down 
the casualties." 
"One other thing," Silk added. "I think we should make a special 
point of not letting any of them get on a horse. A man on foot can't 
go for help very fast. If we run off their horses, we can be out of 


the area before they can bring in reinforcements." 
"I'll take care of that," Belgarath said. "All right. Let's 
go-" They urged their horses into a gallop and charged down 
die road toward the barricade, brandishing their weapons. As they 
pounded down the hill, Garion saw Zakath pulling a curious-looking 
leather half-glove clad with steel onto his right hand. 
Just before they reached the barricade and the alarmed soldiers 
standing behind it, they veered sharply to the left, then galloped 
around the obstruction and back onto the road. 
"After them!" a black-robed Grolim screamed at the startled troops. 
"Don't let them escape!" 
Garion rode on past the soldiers' picketed horses, then wheeled 
Chretienne around. He charged back with the others close on his heels 
and rode full into the face of the confused Darshivans. He did not 
really want to kill any of diem, so he laid about him with the flat 
of the blade rather than the edge. He put three of them down as he 
crashed through their ranks; behind him he could hear the sound of 
blows and cries of pain. The Grolim rose before him, and he could 
feel the black-robed man drawing in his will. He did not falter, but 
simply rode the priest down. Then he wheeled again. Toth was laying 
about him with his heavy staff, and Durnik was busily caving in 
helmets with the butt Of his axe. Zakath, however, was leaned far 
over in his saddle. He had no weapon in his hand but rather was 
smashing his metal-clad fist into the faces of the Darshivan 
soldiers. The glove appeared to be quite effective. 
Then, from where the soldiers' horses were picketed, there came a 
blood-curdling howl. The great silver wolf was snapping and snarling 
at the horses. They lunged back in panic, the picket rope snapped, 
and they fled. 
"Let's go!" Garion shouted to his friends, and they galloped once 
again through the center of the Darshivans and on down the road to 
rejoin Polgara, Ce'Nedra, Velvet, and 
308 
SORCERESS OF DARSHFVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
309 
Eriond. Belgarath loped after them, then changed into his own form 
and walked back to his horse. 
"It seems to have worked more or less the way we'd planned," Zakath 
noted. He was panting, and his forehead was dewed with sweat. "I seem 
to be a bit out of condition, though," he added. 
"loo much sitting down," Silk said. "What's that thing youVe got on 
your hand?" 
"It's called a cestus," the Mallorean replied, pulling it off. "I'm a 
little rusty with my sword, so I thought this might work just as 
well—particularly since Belgarath wanted to keep down the 


fatalities." 
"Did we kill anybody?" Durnik asked. 
"Two," Sadi admitted. He held up his small dagger. "It's a little 
hard to unpoison a knife." 
"And one other," Silk told the smith. "He was running up behind you 
with a spear, so I threw a knife at him." 
"It couldn't be helped," Belgarath said. "Now let's get out of here." 
They continued at a gallop for several miles, then slowed back to a 
canter again. 
They took shelter mat night in a sizable stand of dead trees. Durnik 
and Toth dug a shallow pit and built a small fire in it. After the 
tents were pitched, Gahon and Zakath walked to the edge of the trees 
to keep watch on the road. 
"Is it always like this?" Zakath asked quietly. 
"Like what?" 
"All this sneaking and hiding?" 
"Usually. Belgarath tries to avoid trouble whenever he can. He 
doesn't like to risk people in random skirmishes. Most of the time 
we're able to avoid the kind of thing that happened this morning. 
Silk—and Sadi, too, for that matter—have lied us out of some very 
tight spots." He smiled faintly. "Up in Voresebo, Silk bribed our way 
past a group of soldiers with a pouchful of brass Mallorean 
halfpennies." 
"But they're virtually worthless." 
"That's what Silk said, but we were quite a ways past the soldiers 
before they opened the pouch." 
Then they heard a chilling howl. 
"A wolf?" Zakath asked. "Belgarath again?" 
"No. That wasn't a wolf. Let's go back. I think Urvon's managed to 
outflank General Atesca." "What makes you think so?" "That was a 
Hound." 
DAVID EDDINGS 
311 
CHAPTER TWENTY 
They walked carefully through the forest of dead snags, avoiding as 
best they could the litter of fallen limbs and twigs on the ground. 
The faint glow from Duraik's sunken fire guided them, and Garion knew 
it would serve as a dim beacon for the Hounds as well. Zakath's 
euphoria seemed to have evaporated. His expression now was wary, and 
he walked with his hand on his sword hilt. 
They entered the small clearing where the others were seated around 
the fire pit. "There's a Hound out there," Garion said quietly. "It 
howled once." 
"Could you make out what it was saying?" Belgarath asked, his voice 
tense. 
"I don't speak its language, Grandfather. It seemed to be some kind 


of a call, though." 
310 
"Probably to the rest of the pack," the old man grunted. *4The Hounds 
don't hunt alone very often." 
"The glow from our fire is fairly visible," Garion pointed out. 
"I'll take care of that right away," Durnik said, starting to shovel 
dirt into the fire pit. 
"Could you pinpoint the Hound's location at all?" Belgarath asked. 
"It was some distance away," Garion replied. "I think it's out there 
on the road." / "Following our trail?" Silk asked. 
"It's following something. I could pick up that much." "If the Hound 
is following us, I can divert it with some of that powder I used back 
at Ashaba," Sadi suggested. "What do you think?" Belgarath asked 
Beldin. The dwarf squatted on the ground, absently scratching an 
Obscure diagram in the dirt with a broken stick. "It wouldn't k 
work," he said finally. "The Hounds aren't entirely dogs, f .so 
they're not going to just blindly follow the one in the 3; lead. Once 
they pinpoint our location, they'll spread out and !;come at us from 
all sides. We're going to have to come up ?: with something else." 
:f "Fairly soon, I'd think," Silk added, looking around nerf;; 
Vously. 
'•$••" Polgara removed her blue cloak and handed it to Durnik. |; 
"I'll deal with it," she said calmly. '& "What have you got in 
mind, Pol?" Belgarath asked suspiciously. £ "I haven't decided 
yet, Old Wolf. Maybe I'll just make 
*Jt up as I go along—the way you do sometimes." She drew 
H herself up, and the air around her shimmered with an odd 
^luminescence. She was winging her way off among the dead 
x' white trees even before the light had faded. 
\; "I hate it when she does that," Belgarath muttered. 
j "You do it all the time," Beldin said. 
| "That's different." 

•3|£ Zakath was staring at the ghostly shape of the disappear-||jng 
white owl. "That's uncanny," he shuddered. Then he Jpooked at Garion. 
"I can't say that I understand all this concern," he confessed. "You 
people—at least some of 
312 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
313 
you—are sorcerers. Can't you just . . . ?" He left it hanging. 
"No," Garion shook his head. 
"Why not?" 
"It makes too much noise. Not the sort of noise ordinary people can 
hear—but we can hear it, and so can the Gro-lims. If we tried to do 
it that way, we'd have every Grolim in this part of Darshiva down our 

necks. Sorcery's an overrated thing, Zakath. I'll grant you we can do 
things that other people can't, but there are so many restrictions on 
us that sometimes it's not worth the trouble—unless you're in a 
hurry.' * 
"I didn't know that," Zakath admitted. "Are the Hounds as big as they 
say they are?" 
"Probably even bigger," Silk replied. "They're about the size of 
small horses." 
"You're a droll fellow, Kheldar," Zakath said, "so I think I'd have 
to see that to believe it." 
"You'd better hope that you don't get that close." 
Belgarath looked narrowly at the Mallorean. "You don't believe in 
very much, do you?" he asked. 
"What I can see." Zakath shrugged. "I've had most of the belief 
washed out of me over the years." 
"That could prove to be a problem," the old man said, scratching at 
his cheek. "A time might come when we'll have to do something in a 
hurry and we won't have time for explanations—and you won't have time 
to stand around gaping in astonishment. I think this might be a good 
time to fill you in on a few things." 
"I'll listen to you," Zakath said. "I don't promise to believe 
everything you say, though. Go ahead." 
"I'll let Garion do it. I want to keep in touch with Pol. Why don't 
you two go back to the edge of the woods and keep watch? Garion can 
fill you in there. Try not to be skeptical just on principle." 
"We'll see," Zakath replied. 
During the next hour, as Garion and Zakath crouched behind a fallen 
tree at the edge of the woods, the Emperor of Mallorea had his 
credulity stretched to the limits. Garion spoke in a half whisper 
even as he kept his eyes and ears alert. He began by briefly 
sketching in the Book of Atom, 
went on to a few salient points from the Mrin Codex. /Tnen, so far as 
he knew it, he described the early life of Belgarath the sorcerer. 
And then he got down to business. He explained the possibilities and 
the limitations of the Will •md the Word, covering such matters as 
projections, trans-f location, shape-change, and so on. He covered 
the myste-:" tious sound that accompanies the use of what common | 
people call sorcery, the exhaustion that conies over a sorcerer after 
its use, and the single absolute prohibition— that of unmaking. 
"That's what happened to Ctuchik," he con-" eluded. "He was so afraid 
of what would happen if I got my hands on the Orb that he forgot he 
was stepping over IVfte line when he tried to destroy it." \- Out 
in die darkness, the Hound howled again, and there f/^ras an 
answering howl from a different direction. "They're ^getting 
closer," Garion whispered. "I hope Aunt Pol huri 
Zakath, however, was still mulling over the things Garrkm 


had told him. "Are you trying to tell me that it was
the Orb that killed Ctuchik and not Belgarath?" he whis-
No. It wasn't the Orb. It was the universe. Do you really
to get into theology?" "I'm even more skeptical in that direction." 
"That's the one thing you can't afford, Zakath," Garion seriously. 
"You have to believe. Otherwise, we'll fail, , if we fail, the world 
fails— forever. " H The Hound howled again, even closer this time. 
f' "Keep your voice down," Garion warned in a tense whis-:|jper.
"The Hounds have very sharp ears."
1^ "I'm not afraid of a dog, Garion, no matter how big it
$VT-£» * *
5I18' 


•." "That could be a mistake. Being afraid is one of the 
things that keeps us alive. All right. As closely as I un-{| demand 
it, this is the way it went. UL created the universe." 
M "I thought it was just spun out of nothingness." p "It was, 
but UL was the spinner. Then he joined his ^ thought with the 
awareness of the universe, and the Seven IfGods were born." 
"The Grolims say it was Torak who made everything." 
314 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
315 
"That's what Torak wanted them to believe. That's one of the reasons 
I had to kill him. He thought he owned the universe and that he was 
more powerful than UL. He was wrong, and nobody owns the universe. 
She owns herself, and she makes the rules." 
"She?" 
"Of course. She's the mother of everything—you, me, that rock, and 
even this dead tree we're hiding behind. We're all related, I 
suppose, and the universe won't permit unmaking." Garion pulled off 
his helmet and scratched at his sweaty hair. He sighed. "I'm awfully 
sorry, Zakath. I know this is coming at you very fast, but we don't 
have time for subtlety. For some reason, we're caught up in this—you 
and I." He smiled wryly. "We're both woefully unsuited for the task, 
I'm afraid, but our mother needs us. Are you up to it?" 
"I'm up to most things, I suppose," Zakath replied in an indifferent 
tone. "Regardless of what Cyradis said back there, I don't really 
expect to come out of this alive anyway." 
"Are you sure you're not Arendish?" Garion asked suspiciously. "The 
whole idea is to live, Zakath, not to die. Dying defeats the purpose. 
Don't do it. I might need you later on. The voice told me that you're 
supposed to be a part of this. I think we're walking directly into 
the ultimate horror. You might have to hold me up when we get there." 
"Voice?" 
"It's in here," Garion tapped his forehead. "I'll explain that later. 

You've got enough to think about for now.'' 
"You hear voices? There's a name for people who hear voices, you 
know." 
Garion smiled. "I'm not really crazy, Zakath," he said. "I get a 
little distracted once in a while, but IVe still got a fairly firm 
grip on reality." 
There was a sudden, shocking sound that echoed through Garion's head 
like an explosion. 
"What was that?" Zakath exclaimed. 
"You heard it, too?" Garion was amazed. "You shouldn't have been able 
to hear it!" 
"It shook the earth, Garion. Look there." Zakath pointed off toward 
the north where a huge pillar of fire was soaring up toward the 
murky, starless sky. "What is it?" 
"Aunt Pol did something. She's never that clumsy. Listen!" 
The baying of the Hound, which had been coming closer and closer as 
they had been speaking, had broken off into a series of pained yelps. 
"It probably hurt his ears," Garion said. "I know it hurt mine." 
The Hound took up his baying again, and his howls were soon joined by 
others. The sound began to fade off toward the north and the boiling 
column of fire. 
"Let's go back," Garion said. "I don't think we need to keep watch 
here any more." 
Belgarath and Beldin were both pale and shaken, and even Durnik 
seemed awed. 
"She hasn't done anything that noisy since she was about [sixteen," 
Beldin said, blinking in astonishment. He looked (.suspiciously at 
Durnik. "Have you gone and got her pregnant?" 
Even in the faint light from the overcast sky Garion could * his 
friend blushing furiously. 
"What would that have to do with it?" Belgarath asked. 
"It's only a theory of mine," Beldin said. "I can't prove it, because 
Polgara's the only sorceress I know right now, and she's never been 
in that condition." 
"I'm sure you'll get around to explaining it—eventually." 
"It's not that complicated, Belgarath. A woman's body gets a little 
confused when she's carrying a child. It does some peculiar things to 
her emotions and her thought pro-; cesses. Focusing the Will takes 
control and concentration. A pregnant woman might just lose her grip 
on that sort of thing. You see—" He went on at some length to 
describe the physical, emotional, and intellectual changes involved 
in pregnancy. He spoke in matter-of-fact, even graphic, terms. After 
a moment, Ce'Nedra and Velvet withdrew, firmly taking Eriond with 
them. A moment later, Durnik ; joined them. 
"Did you work this out all by yourself?" Belgarath asked. 
"It gave me something to speculate about while I was .watching the 


cave where Zedar had hidden Torak." 
316
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
317
"It took you five hundred years, then?" 
"I wanted to be sure I'd covered all the possibilities." Beldin 
shrugged. 
"Why didn't you just ask Pol? She could have told you immediately.'' 
Beldin blinked. "I never thought of that," he admitted. 
Belgarath walked away, shaking his head. 
Some time later, they heard a sudden, screeching bellow coming from
the west through the murky sky. 
"Everybody get down!" Belgarath hissed. "And keep quiet!'' 
"What is it?" Zakath exclaimed.
"Be still!" Beldin snapped. "She'll hear you!" 
From overhead there came the flap of vast wings and a sooty orange 
billow of fire. Then the huge beast flew on, screeching and belching
out flames.
"What was it?" Zakath repeated. 
"Zandramas," Garion whispered. "Keep your voice down. She might come
back." 
They waited. 
"She seems to be going toward all the noise Pol kicked up," Belgarath 
said in a low voice.
"At least she's not looking for us," Silk said with some relief. 
"Not yet, anyway." 
"That wasn't actually a dragon, was it?" Zakath asked the old man.
"No, not really. Garion was right. It was Zandramas. That's her other
form."
"Isn't it just a bit ostentatious?" 
"Zandramas seems to have urges in that direction. She can only go for
so long without doing something spectacular. It might have something 
to do with the fact that she's a woman." 
"I heard that, Belgarath," Ce'Nedra's voice came threateningly from
the far side of the clearing. 
"Maybe it didn't come out exactly the way I'd intended," he half
apologized. 
The snowy owl came drifting through the forest of dead trees. She 
hovered for a moment near the fire, then shimmered back into her own 
form.
"What did you do out there, Pol?" Belgarath asked her. 
"I found a dormant volcano," she replied, taking her cloak from
Durnik and wrapping it around her shoulders. "I reignited it. Did the 
Hounds go off to investigate?" 
"Almost immediately," Garion assured her. 



"So did Zandramas," Silk added. 
"Yes, I saw her." She smiled faintly. "It worked out rather well, 
actually. When she gets there, she'll probably find the Hounds 
slinking around and decide to do something about them. I don't think 
they'll be bothering us any more, and I 'm sure Zandramas would be 
filled with chagrin if she found out that she's helping us." 
"Were you that clumsy on purpose, Pol?" Beldin asked her. 
"Of course. I wanted to make enough noise to draw off the Hounds—and 
any Grolims who might be in the area. Zandramas was just a bonus. 
Could you build up the fire again, dear?" she said to Durnik. "I 
think it's safe now to start thinking about supper." 
They broke camp early the next morning. Polgara's Volcano was still 
belching smoke and ash high into the air, where they mingled with the 
pervading overcast to •cause a sullen kind of gloom. The murky air 
reeked of sulfur. 
"Flying in that isn't going to be very enjoyable," Beldin said 
sourly. 
"We need to know what's ahead," Belgarath told him. 
"I know that," Beldin replied. "I'm not stupid, you know. I was just 
making an observation." He bent slightly, changed form, and drove 
himself into the air with powerful strokes of his wings. 
"I'd pay a fortune to have a hawk like that," Zakath said wistfully. 
"You might have trouble training him," Belgarath said. "He's not the 
most tractable bird in the world." 
"And the first time you tried to hood him, he'd probably rip off one 
of your fingers," Polgara added. 
ft was nearly noon when Beldin returned, flying hard. "Get ready!" he 
shouted almost before he had completed the change. "Temple 
Guardsmen—about ten—just over that 
318 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
319 
rise! They're coming this way and they've got a Hound with them!" 
Garion reached for his sword, and he heard Zakath's blade come 
whistling out of its sheath. "No!" he said sharply to the Mallorean. 
"Stay out of it!" 
"Not a chance," Zakath replied. 
"I'll take care of the dog," Sadi said, reaching into the pouch at 
his belt for some of the powder he had used so effectively in 
Karanda. 
They spread out with their weapons in their hands as Eriond led the 
women to the rear. 
The Hound came over the hill first, and it stopped when it saw them. 
Then it wheeled and loped back. 
"That's it," Belgarath said. "They know we're here now.'' 


The Guardsmen came over the top of the hill at a rolling trot. Garion 
noticed that they weren't carrying lances, but each mail-clad man 
held a sword and wore a shield. They paused for a moment to assess 
the situation, then they charged. The Hound came first, running 
smoothly and with his lips peeled back from his teeth in a fearful 
snarl. Sadi spurred forward to meet him, holding a fistful of the 
powder. When the Hound reared up on his hind legs to drag the eunuch 
from his saddle, Sadi coolly hurled the powder full into the animal's 
face. The Hound shook his massive head, trying to clear his eyes. 
Then he sneezed once. His eyes grew wide, and his snarl turned into a 
terrified whimper. He shrieked suddenly, a dreadful, half-human 
sound. Then he turned and fled, howling in terror. 
"Let's go!" Garion barked, and he charged toward the oncoming 
Guardsmen. These were more serious opponents than the Darshivan 
soldiers had been, so the choices in dealing with them were greatly 
reduced. One, somewhat larger than his fellows and astride a heavybodied 
warhorse, was leading the charge, and Garion cut him out of 
his saddle with a single stroke of Iron-grip's great sword. 
Garion heard the sound of steel on steel off to his left, but he 
dared not take his eyes off the still-charging Guardsmen. He chopped 
two more from their saddles, and Chre-tienne crashed into the horse 
of a third, sending the rider 
and his mount tumbling. Then Garion was through the ranks of their 
enemies, and he wheeled around. 
Zakath was being hard pressed by two mailed men. He had, it appeared, 
already felled a third; but then the other two had come at him, one 
from either side. Garion kicked at Chretienne's flanks, intending to 
go to his friend's aid, but Toth was already there. With one huge 
hand he plucked one of Zakath's attackers from his saddle and hurled 
him headfirst at a large boulder at the side of the road. Zakath 
turned on his other enemy, deftly parried a couple of strokes, then 
smoothly ran the man through. 
Silk's daggers were already doing their deadly work. One Guardsman 
was aimlessly riding around in a circle, doubled over in his saddle 
and clutching at the dagger hilt protruding from his stomach. The 
acrobatic little Dras-nian then leaped from his horse and landed 
behind the saddle of a confused Guardsman. With a wide sweep of his 
arm, Silk drove a dagger into the side of the man's neck. Blood 
gushed from the Guardsman's mouth as he fell to the ground. 
The remaining two armored men tried to flee, but Durnik and Beldin 
were already on them, clubbing at them with cudgel and axe. They 
tumbled senselessly from their horses and lay twitching in the dirt 
of the road. 
"Are you all right?" Garion asked Zakath. 
"I'm fine, Garion." The Mallorean was breathing hard, though. 
"Your training seems to be coming back to you." 


"I had a certain amount of incentive." Zakath looked critically at 
the bodies littering the road. "When this is all over, I think I'll 
order this organization disbanded," he said. "The notion of private 
armies offends me for some reason." 
"Did any of them get away?" Silk asked, looking around. 
"Not a one," Durnik told him. 
"Good. We wouldn't want somebody going for help." Silk frowned. "What 
were they doing this far south?" he asked. 
"Probably trying to stir up enough trouble to draw the Darshivan 
troops away from Urvon's main body," Belgarath replied. "I think 
we'll have to be alert from now on. This 
320 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
321 
whole area could be crawling with soldiers at any time now." He 
looked at Beldin. "Why don't you have a look around?" he said. "See 
if you can find out what Urvon's up to and where the Darshivans are. 
We don't want to get caught between them." 
"It's going to take a while," the hunchback replied. "Darshiva's a 
fairly large place." 
"You'd better get started, then, hadn't you?" 
They took shelter that night in the ruins of another village. 
Belgarath and Garion scouted the surrounding region, but found it to 
be deserted. The following morning, the two wolves ranged out ahead 
of the rest of the party, but again they encountered no one. 
It was almost evening when Beldin returned. "Urvon outflanked your 
army," he told Zakath. "He's got at least one general who knows what 
he's doing. His troops are in the Dalasian Mountains now, and they're 
coming south at a forced march. Atesca had to stay near the coast to 
meet the Darshivans and their elephants." 
"Did you see Urvon?" Belgarath asked him. 
Beldin cackled an ugly little laugh. "Oh, yes. He's absolutely mad 
now. He's got two dozen soldiers carrying him on a throne and he's 
doing parlor tricks to demonstrate his divinity. I doubt if he could 
focus enough of his will right now to wilt a flower." 
"Is Nahaz with him?" 
Beldin nodded. "Right beside him, whispering in his ear. I'd say he 
needs to keep a tight grip on his plaything. If Urvon starts giving 
the wrong orders, his army could wind up wandering around in those 
mountains for a generation." 
Belgarath frowned. "This doesn't exactly fit," he said. "Every bit of 
information we picked up pointed to the probability that Nahaz and 
Mordja were concentrating on each other.'' 
"Maybe they've already had it out," the hunchback shrugged, "and 
Mordja lost." 


"I doubt it. That sort of thing would have made a lot of noise, and 
we'd have heard it." 
"Who knows why demons do anything?" Beldin scowled, scratching at his 
matted hair. "Let's face it, Belgarath," he 
said. "Zandramas knows that she has to go to Kell, and so does Nahaz. 
I think this is turning into a race. We're all trying to be the first 
one to get to Cyradis." 
"I get the feeling that I'm overlooking something," Belgarath said. 
"Something important." 
"You'll think of it. It might take you a couple of months, but you'll 
think of it." 
Belgarath ignored that. 
The heavy pall of smoke and ash began to subside as evening drew on, 
but the prevailing gloom of thick overcast remained. Darshiva was 
still a land of dead trees, fungus, and stagnant water. Increasingly, 
that last became a problem. The supplies of water they had carried 
with them from the Mallorean camp on the shores of the Magan had long 
since been exhausted. As night fell, the others continued along the 
road, and Belgarath and Garion ranged ahead as wolves again, 
searching this time not so much for trouble as for fresh water. Their 
sharp noses easily detected the stale reek of long-standing pools, 
and they passed them without slowing. 
It was in a blasted forest of long-dead trees that Garion encountered 
another wolf. She was gaunt and bedraggled, and she limped painfully 
on her left front paw. She looked at him warily, baring her teeth in 
warning. 
He sat down on his haunches to show his peaceable intent. 
"What is it you do here?" she asked him in the language of wolves. 
"I am going from one place to another place," he replied politely. "I 
have no intention to hunt in the place which is yours. I seek only 
clean water to drink." 
"Clean water comes from the ground on the other side of that high 
place." She glanced toward a hill deeper in the forest. "Drink your 
fill." 
"I have others with me as weH," he told her. 
"Your pack?" She came cautiously closer to him and sniffed. "You have 
the scent of the man-things about you," she accused. 
"Some of those in my pack are man-things," he admitted. "Where is 
your pack?" 
"Gone," she told him. "When there were no longer 
322 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
323 
creatures to hunt in this place, they went into the mountains.'* She 
licked at her injured foot. "I could not follow." 


*'Where is your mate?" 
"He no longer runs or hunts. I visit his bones sometimes." She said
it with such simple dignity mat a lump caught in Gar-ion's throat. 
"How do you hunt with that hurt in your paw?" 
"I lie in wait for unwary things. Ail are very small. I have not 
eaten my fill for many seasons." 
"Grandfather," Garion sent his thought out. "I need you." 
"Trouble?" the old man's thought came back. 
"Not that kind. Oh, I found water, by the way, but don't come in here 
running. You'll frighten her." 
"Her?"
"You'll understand when you get here." 
"To whom were you speaking?" she asked. 
"You heard?" He was startled. 
"No, but your manner was that of one who was speaking." 
"We can talk of that after some time has passed. My pack-leader is 
coming to this place. He must make the decisions." 
"That is only proper." She lay down on her belly and continued to
lick at her paw. 
"How did you come to be hurt?" 
"Hie man-things conceal things beneath the leaves. I stepped on one 
of those things, and it bit my paw. Its jaws were very strong." 
Belgarath came trotting through the dead forest. He stopped and
dropped to his haunches, his tongue lolling out.
The she-wolf laid her muzzle submissively on the ground in a gesture 
of respect. 
"What's the problem?" Belgarath's thought came to Gar-ion. 
"She caught her foot in a trap. Her pack left her behind, and her 
mate died. She's crippled and starving." 
"It happens sometimes." 
"I'm not going to leave her behind to die." 
Belgarath gave him a long, steady look. "No," he replied. "I don't 
imagine you would—and I'd think less of you if you did." He 
approached the she-wolf. "How is it with you, little sister?" he
asked in the language of wolves, sniffing at her. 
"Not well, revered leader," she sighed. "I will not hunt much longer, 
I think." 
"You will join my pack, and we will see to your hurt. We will bring
you such meat as you require. Where are your young? I can smell them
on your fur.'' 
Garion gave a startled little whine. 
"There is but one remaining," the she-wolf replied, "and he is very
weak."
"Take us to him. We will make him strong again." 
"As you decide, revered leader," she said with automatic obedience.
"Pol," Belgarath sent out his thought. "Come here. Take your mother's 



form." The note of command in his voice was incisive and far more 
wolflike than human. 
There was a startled silence. "Yes, father," Polgara replied. When 
she arrived a few moments later, Garion recognized her from the 
characteristic white streak above her left brow. "What is it, 
father?" she asked. 
"Our little sister here is hurt," he replied. "It's her left front 
paw. Can you fix it?" 
She approached the she-wolf and sniffed at the paw. "It's 
ulcerated," she said with her thought. "Nothing seems to be broken. 
Several days with a poultice ought to do it." 
"Fix it, then. She also has a puppy. We'll need to find him as well." 
She looked at him, a question in her golden eyes. 
"She and her puppy are joining our pack. They'll be going with us." 
Then he sent his thought to her. "It's Garion's idea, actually. He 
refuses to leave her behind." 
"It's very noble, but is it practical?" 
"Probably not, but it's his decision. He thinks it's the right thing 
to do, and I more or less agree with him. You're going to have to 
explain some things to her, though. She doesn't have much reason to 
trust man, and I don't want 
324 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
her to go into a panic when the others catch up with us." He turned 
to the she-wolf. "Everything will be well again, little sister," he 
told her. "Now, let us go find your young one." 
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
The half-grown pup was so emaciated that it could not stand, so 
Polgara resorted to the simple expedient of picking it up by the 
scruff of its neck between her jaws and carrying it out of the den. 
"Go meet the others," she instructed Garion. "Don't let them get too 
close until I've had time to talk with our little sister here. Bring 
back food, though. Put as much as you can carry in a sack and come 
right back." 
"Yes, Aunt Pol." He loped back toward the road, changed into his own 
form, and waited for his friends. 
"We've got a little bit of a problem," he told them when they 
arrived. "We've found an injured female just up ahead in those woods. 
She's starving, and she has a young one as well." 
"A baby?" Ce'Nedra exclaimed. 
325 
326 
SORCERESS OF DARSIIIVA 
"Not exactly," he said, going to one of the food packs and beginning 
to load a stout canvas bag with meat and cheese. 
"But you just said—" 


"It's a puppy, Ce'Nedra. The female is a she-wolf." 
"What?" 
"It's a wolf. She got her paw caught in a trap. She can't run, so she 
can't hunt. She'll be coming with us—at least until her paw heals." 
"But-" 
"No buts. She's coming with us. Durnik, can you work out some way we 
can carry her without having the horses go wild?" 
"I'll think of something," the smith replied. 
"Under the circumstances, don't you think this altruism might be 
misplaced?" Sadi asked mildly. 
"No," Garion said, tying the top of the sack shut, "I don't. There's 
a hill in the middle of those woods. Stay on this side of it until we 
can persuade her that we don't mean to harm her. There's water there, 
but it's too close to her den. We'll have to wait a bit before we can 
water the horses." 
"What's got you so angry?" Silk asked him. 
"If I had the time, I'd look up the man who set that trap and break 
his leg—in several places. I've got to go back now. She and the puppy 
are very hungry." He slung the sack over his shoulder and stalked 
off. His anger was, he knew, irrational, and there had not really 
been any excuse for being surly with Ce'Nedra and the others, but he 
could not have helped himself. The wolfs calm acceptance of death and 
her mourning for her lost mate had torn at his heart, and anger kept 
the tears out of his eyes. 
The sack was awkward to carry, once he had changed form, and it kept 
throwing him off balance, but he stumbled on with his head high to 
keep his burden from dragging on the ground. 
Polgara and Belgarath were talking with the she-wolf when he reached 
the den again. The injured wolf had a skeptical expression in her 
eyes as she listened. 
"She can't accept it," Polgara said. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
327 
"Does she think you're lying?" Garion asked, dropping the sack. 
"Wolves don't understand the meaning of that word. She thinks we're 
mistaken. We're going to have to show her. She met you first, so she 
might trust you a little more. Change back. You'll need your hands to 
untie the knot in that sack, anyway." 
"All right." He drew his own image in his imagination and changed. 
"How remarkable," the she-wolf said in amazement. 
Belgarath looked at her sharply. "Why did you say that?" he asked 
her. 
"Did you not find it so?" 
"I am accustomed to it. Why did you choose those particular words?" 
"They came to me. I am no pack-leader, and I have no need to choose 
my word with care in order to protect my dignity." 


Garion had opened the sack and he laid meat and cheese on the ground 
in front of her. She began to eat ravenously. He knelt beside the 
starving pup and began to feed him, being careful to keep his fingers 
away from the needle-sharp teeth. 
"A little bit at a time," Polgara cautioned. "Don't make him sick." 
When the she-wolf had eaten her fill, she limped to the spring which 
came bubbling out from between two rocks and drank. Garion picked up 
the puppy and carried him to the spring so that he could also drink. 
"You are not like the other man-things," the she-wolf observed. 
"No," he agreed. "Not entirely." 
"Are you mated?" she asked.
"Yes."
"To a wolf or to one of the shes of the man-things?" 
"To one of the shes of this kind." He tapped his own chest. 
"Ah. And does she hunt with you?" 
"Our shes do not usually hunt." 
"What useless things they must be." The wolf sniffed disdainfully. 
328
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"Not altogether." 
"Durnik and the others are coming,*' Polgara said. Then she looked at
the she-wolf. "The others of our pack are coming to this place, 
little sister," she said. "They are the man-things of which I spoke. 
Do not be afraid of them, for they are like this one." She pointed 
her nose at Garion. "Our leader here and I will now also change our 
forms. The presence of wolves alarms the beasts we have with us, and 
they must drink from your water. If it please you, will you go with
this one who fed you, so that our beasts may drink?" 
"It shall be as you say," the she-wolf replied.
Garion led the limping wolf away from the spring, carrying the now 
drowsy puppy in his arms. The puppy raised his muzzle, licked Canon's
face once, and then fell asleep. 
Durnik and Toth set up their camp near the spring, while Eriond and 
Silk watered the horses and then took them back to picket them in the 
woods. 
After a while, Garion led the now wary she-wolf toward the fire. "It
is time for you to meet the other members of our pack," he told her,
"for they are now your pack-mates as well." 
"This is not a natural thing," she said nervously as she limped along
at his side. 
"They will not harm you," he assured her. Then he spoke to the 
others. "Please stand very still," he told them. "She'll want to
smell each of you so that she can recognize you later. Don't try to
touch her and, when you speak, do it quietly. She's very nervous 
right now." He led the wolf around the fire, allowing her to sniff at 
each of his companions. 



"What's her name?" Ce'Nedra asked as the she-wolf sniffed at her 
little hand. 
"Wolves don't need names." 
"We have to call her something, Garion. May I hold the puppy?" 
"I think she'd rather you didn't just yet. Let her get used to you 
first." 
"This one is your mate," the she-wolf said. "I can smell your scent 
on her." 
"Yes," Garion agreed. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
329
"She's very small. I see now why she can't hunt. Is she fully grown?" 
"Yes, she is."
"Has she had her first litter yet?" 
"Yes."
"How many puppies?" 
"One." 
"One only?" The wolf sniffed. "I have had as many as six. You should 
have chosen a larger mate. I'm sure she was the runt of her litter." 
"What's she saying?" Ce'Nedra asked. 
"It wouldn't translate," Garion lied. 
After the wolf had grown a little more at ease, Polgara boiled a 
number of herbs in a small pot, mixed them with a paste of soap and 
sugar, and applied the poultice to the wolfs injured paw. Then she 
wrapped the paw in a clean white cloth. "Try not to lick this or chew 
it off, little sister," she instructed. "It will not taste good and
it needs to stay where it is to heal your hurt." 
"One is grateful," the wolf replied. She looked into the dancing 
flames of the fire. "That is a comforting thing, is it not?" she 
observed. 
"We find it so," Polgara said. 
"You man-things are very clever with your forepaws." 
"They're useful," Polgara agreed. She took the sleeping puppy from
Garion *s arms and nestled him beside his mother. 
"I will sleep now," the wolf decided. She laid her muzzle
protectively on her puppy's flank and closed her eyes. 
Durnik motioned to Garion and led him aside. "I think IVe come up 
with a way to bring her along without frightening the horses," he 
said. "I can make a sort of sled for her to ride in. I'll put a long
enough towrope on it to keep her smell away from them, and I'll cover 
her and her puppy with an old horse blanket. She might make them a 
little jumpy at first, but they'll get used to her." The smith looked 
gravely at his friend. "Why are we doing this, Garion?" he asked.
"I couldn't bear the thought of just leaving the two of them here. 
They'd have both died before the week was out." 
"You're a good man," Durnik said simply, putting his 



330 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
331 
hand on Garion's shoulder. "You're decent as well as brave." 
"I'm a Sendar." Garion shrugged. "We're all like that." 
"But you're not actually a Sendar, you know." 
"That's how I was raised, and that's all that matters, isn't it?" 
The sled Durnik contrived for the wolf and her puppy the next morning 
had wide-set runners and was built low to the ground so there was 
little chance of its overturning. "It might be better if it had 
wheels," he admitted, "but I don't have any wheels to work with, and 
it would take too long to make some." 
"I'll ransack the next village we come to," Silk told him. "Maybe I 
can find a cart of some kind." 
They rode out, slowly at first until they saw that the sled ran 
smoothly on the damp earth of the road, and then they moved on at 
their usual canter. 
Silk was checking a map as he rode along. "There's a fair-sized town 
just up ahead," he told Belgarath, "I think we could use some up-todate 
information about now, don't you?" 
"Why is it that you absolutely have to go into every town we pass?" 
Belgarath asked him. 
"I'm a city dweller, Belgarath," the little man replied in an offhand 
manner. "I get edgy if I can't walk on cobblestones every so often. 
Besides, we need supplies. Garion's wolf eats a great deal. Why don't 
the rest of you go out in a wide circle around the place, and we'll 
catch up with you on the other side?" 
"We?" Garion asked him. 
"You're coming along, aren't you?" 
Garion sighed. "I guess so," he said. "You always seem to get into 
trouble if we let you go off alone." 
"Trouble?" Silk said innocently. "Me?" 
Zakath rubbed at his stubbled chin. "I'll come, too," he said. "I 
don't look that much like the coins any more." He glared briefly at 
Belgarath. "How can you stand this?" he demanded, scratching 
vigorously at his face. "The itching is about to drive me wild." 
"You get used to it," Belgarath told him. "I wouldn't feel right if 
my face didn't itch." 
\ 
The place appeared to be a market town that had at some time in the 
past been fortified. It crouched atop a hill and it was surrounded by 
a thick stone wall with watchtowers at each corner. The pervading 
overcast that seemed to cover all of Darshiva made the town look gray 
and dismal. The gate was unguarded, and Silk, Garion, and Zakath 
clattered on through into what appeared to be a deserted street. 


"Let's see if we can find somebody," Silk said. "If not, we can at 
least ransack a few shops for the food we'll need.' * 
"Don't you ever pay for anything, Kheldar?" Zakath asked with some
asperity. 
"Not if I don't have to. No honest merchant ever passes up an
opportunity to steal. Let's push on, shall we?" 
"This is a very corrupt little man; do you know that?" Zakath said to 
Garion. 
"WeVe noticed that from time to time." 
They rounded a corner and saw a group of men in canvas smocks loading 
a wagon under the direction of a sweating fat man.
Silk reined in his horse. "Where are all the people, friend?" he 
called to the fat man. 
"Gone. Fled to either Gandahar or Dalasia." 
"Fled? What for?" 
"Where have you been, man? Urvon's coming." 
"Really? I hadn't heard that." 
"Everybody in Darshiva knows it." 
"Zandramas will stop him," Silk said confidently. 
"Zandramas isn't here." The fat man suddenly bawled at one of his 
workers. "Be careful with that box!" he shouted. "The things in there 
are breakable!" 
Silk led the others closer. "Where did she go? Zandramas, I mean?" 
"Who knows? Who cares? There's been nothing but trouble in Darshiva 
ever since she gained control of the country." The fat man mopped at
his face with a soiled kerchief. 
"You'd better not let the Grolims hear you talking like that." 
"Grolims," the fat man snorted. "They were the first ones to run. 
Urvon's army uses Darshivan Grolims for firewood." 
332
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
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333
"Why would Zandramas leave when her country's being invaded?" 
"Who knows why she does anything?" The fat fellow looked around 
nervously, then spoke in a quiet voice. "Just between you and me, 
friend, I think she's mad. She held some kind of ceremony at Hemil. 
She stuck a crown on the head of some archduke from Melcena and said
that he's the Emperor of Mallorea. He'll be a head shorter when Kal 
Zakath catches up with him, I'll wager." 
"I'd like to put some money on the same proposition," Zakath agreed
quietly. 
"Then she gave a speech in the temple at Hemil," the fat man went on. 
"She said that the day is at hand." He sneered. "Grolims of every 
stripe have been saying that the day is at hand for as long as I can 
remember. Every one of them seems to be talking about a different



day, though. Anyway, she came through here a few days ago and told us 
all that she was going to the place where the New God of Angarak will 
be chosen. She held up her hand and said, 'And this is a sign to you 
that I shall prevail.' It gave me quite a turn at first, let me tell 
you. There were swirling lights under her skin. I thought for a while 
that there was really something significant about it, but my friend, 
the apothecary who keeps the shop next to mine, he told me that she's 
a sorceress and she can make people see anything she wants them to 
see. That explains it, I guess." 
"Did she say anything else?" Silk asked him intently. 
"Only that this New God of hers will appear before the summer is 
gone." 
"Let's hope she's right," Silk said. "That might put an end to all 
this turmoil." 
"I doubt it," the fat man said moodily. "I think we're in for a long 
siege of trouble." 
"Was she alone?" Garion asked him. 
' 'No. She had her bogus emperor with her and that white-eyed Grolim 
from the temple at Hemil—the one who follows her around like a tame 
ape.'' 
"Anyone else?" 
"Only a little boy. I don't know where she picked him up. Just before 
she left, she told us that the army of Urvon the Disciple was coming 
and she ordered the whole populace 
to go out and block his path. Then she left, going that way." He 
pointed off toward the west. "Well, my friends and I, we all sort of 
looked at each other for a while, and then everybody grabbed up 
whatever he could carry and bolted. We're not stupid enough to throw 
ourselves in the path of an advancing army, no matter who orders us 
to." 
"How is it that you stayed behind?" Silk asked him curiously. 
"This is my shop," the fat man replied in a plaintive tone. "IVe 
worked all my life to build it up. I wasn't going to run off and let 
the riffraff from the gutters loot it. Now they're all gone, so it's 
safe for me to make a run for it with whatever I can salvage. A lot 
of what I'll have to leave behind won't keep anyway, so I'm not 
losing very much." 
"Oh," Silk said, his pointed nose twitching with interest. "What is 
it you deal in, friend?" 
"General merchandise." The fat man looked critically at his workmen. 
"Stack those boxes closer together!" he shouted. "There's still a lot 
left to go in that wagon!" 
"What sort of general merchandise?" Silk pressed. 
"Household goods, tools, bolts of cloth, foodstuffs—that sort of 
thing." 
"Well, now," Silk said, his nose twitching even more violently. 


"Maybe you and I can do some business. My friends and I have a long 
way to go, and we're running a little short of supplies. You 
mentioned foodstuffs. What sort of foodstuffs?" 
The merchant's eyes narrowed. "Bread, cheese, butter, dried fruit, 
hams. IVe even got a fresh side of beef. I warn you, though, those 
things are going to cost you very dearly. Food's scarce in this part 
of Darshiva." 
**Oh," Silk said blandly, "I don't think they'll cost all that 
much—unless you plan to wait here to greet Urvon when he arrives." 
The merchant stared at him in consternation. 
"You see, my friend," Silk continued, "you have to leave—and very 
soon, I think. That wagon of yours won't carry everything you've got 
in your shop, and your team isn't going to be able to move very 
fast—not the way you're loading the wagon. My friends and I have fast 
horses, though, so we can afford to wait a little longer. After you 
334 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
335 
leave, we might just browse through your shop for the things we 
need." 
The merchant's face went suddenly very pale. "That's robbery," he 
gasped. 
"Why, yes," Silk admitted blandly, "I believe some people do call it 
that." He paused for a moment to allow the merchant time to 
understand the situation fully. The fat man's face grew anguished. 
Then Silk sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm cursed with a delicate 
conscience. I can't bear the thought of cheating an honest man—unless 
I absolutely have to." He lifted a pouch from his belt, opened it, 
and peered inside. "I seem to have eight or ten silver half-crowns in 
here," he said. "What would you say to five of them for everything my 
friends and I can carry?" 
"That's outrageous!" the merchant spluttered. 
With some show of regret, Silk closed the pouch and tucked it back 
under his belt. "I guess we'll just have to wait, then. Do you think 
you and your men will be much longer?" 
"You're robbing me!" the merchant wailed. 
"No, not really. The way I see it, what we have here is a buyer's 
market. That's my offer, friend—five silver half-crowns. Take it or 
leave it. We'll wait over there across the street while you decide." 
He turned his horse and led Gar-ion and Zakath toward a large house 
on the other side of the street. 
Zakath was trying very hard to stifle a laugh as they dismounted. 
"We're not quite done yet," Silk muttered. "It needs just one more 
little touch." He went up to the locked door of the house, reached 
into his boot, and took out a long, pointed needle. He probed at the 


lock for a moment, and it snapped open with a solid-sounding click. 
"We'll need a table and three chairs," he told them. "Bring them out 
and set them up in front of the house. I'll rummage around and find 
the other things we'll need." He went into the house. 
Garion and Zakath went into the kitchen and carried out a fair-sized 
table. Then they went back for chairs. 
"What's he up to?" Zakath asked with a look of bafflement on his 
face. 
"He's playing," Garion said with a certain disgust. "He does that 
from time to time during his business dealings." 
They carried out the chairs and found Silk waiting for them. Several 
bottles of wine and four goblets sat on the table. "All right, 
gentlemen," the little Drasnian said. "Seat yourselves and have some 
wine. I'll be right back. I want to check something I saw at the side 
of the house." He went around the corner and came back after a few 
minutes with a broad smirk on his face. He sat, poured himself a 
goblet of wine, leaned back in his chair, and put his feet op on the 
table with the air of a man planning to make a long stay of it. "I 
give him about five minutes," he said. 
"Who?" Garion asked. 
"The merchant." Silk shrugged. "He'll only be able to watch us 
sitting here for so long and then he'll start to see things my way." 
"You're a cruel, cruel man, Prince Kheldar." Zakath laughed. 
"Business is business," Silk replied, taking a sip of his wine. "This 
really isn't bad, you know," he said, holding up his goblet to admire 
the color of the wine. 
"What were you doing around at the side?" Garion asked him. 
"There's a carriage house there—with a large lock on the door. You 
don't flee a town and lock a door unless there's something valuable 
behind it, do you? Besides, locked doors always pique ray curiosity." 
"So? What was inside?" 
"Rather a nice little cabriolet, actually." 
"What's a cabriolet?" 
"A two-wheeled carriage." 
"And you're going to steal it." 
"Of course. I told the merchant over there that we'd take only what 
we could carry. I didn't tell him how we were going to carry it. 
Besides, Durnik wanted wheels to make something to carry your wolf 
in. That little carriage could save him all the trouble of building 
things. Friends should always help their friends, right?" 
As Silk had predicted, the merchant could only bear watching the 
three of them lounging at the table across from his shop for just so 
long. As his men finished loading the 

SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDCHNGS 


wagon, he came across the street. "All right," he said sullenly, 
"five half-crowns—but only so much as you can carry, mind." 
"Trust me," Silk told him, counting out the coins on the table. 
"Would you care for a glass of wine? It's really quite good." 
The merchant snatched up the coins and turned without answering. 
"We'll lock up for you when we leave," Silk called after him. 
The fat man did not look back. 
After the merchant and his men had ridden off down the street, Silk
led his horse around to the side of the house while Garion and Zakath
crossed the street to plunder the fat man's shop. 
The little two-wheeled carriage had a folding top and a large 
leather-covered box across its back. Silk's saddle horse looked a bit
uncomfortable between the shafts of the carriage, and the sense of 
being followed by the wheeled thing definitely made him nervous. 
The box across the back of the cabriolet held an astonishing amount 
of supplies. They filled it with cheeses, rolls of butter, hams,
slabs of bacon, and several bags of beans. Then they filled up the
empty spaces with loaves of bread. When Garion picked up a large bag 
of meal, however, Silk firmly shook his head. "No," he said
adamantly. 
"Why not?"
"You know what Polgara makes with ground meal. I'm not deliberately
going to volunteer to eat gruel for breakfast every morning for the 
next month. Let's get that side of beef instead." 
"We won't be able to eat all that before it goes bad," Garion
objected. 
"We have these two new mouths to feed, remember? I've seen your wolf 
and her puppy eat. The meat won't have time to go bad, believe me." 
They rode out of town with Silk idly lounging in the seat of the 
little carriage with the reins held negligently in his left hand. In 
his right, he held a wine bottle. "Now this is more like it," he said
happily, taking a long drink. 
"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Garion said a little tartly. 
"Oh, I am," Silk replied. "But after all, Garion, fair is fair. I 
stole it, so I get to ride in it." 
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The others were clustered in the yard of an abandoned farmstead a 
league or so beyond the town. "I see you've been busy," Belgarath 
observed as Silk drove die little carriage up and stopped. 
"We needed something to carry the supplies in," Silk replied glibly. 
"Of course."
"I hope you were able to find something beside beans," Sadi said. 
"Soldiers' rations tend to grow monotonous after awhile." 
"Silk swindled a shopkeeper," Garion said, opening the leathercovered 
box at the back of the carriage. "We did rather well, 



actually." 
"Swindled?" Silk protested. 338 
DAVID EDDINGS 
339
"Didn't you?" Garion moved the side of beef so that Polgara could 
look into the box. 
"Well—I suppose so," Silk admitted, "but swindled is such an awkward 
way to sum up."
"It's perfectly all right, Prince Kheldar." Polgara almost purred as 
she took a mental inventory of the items in the box. "To be honest
with you, I don't care how you came by all this."
He bowed. "My pleasure, Polgara," he said grandly. 
"Yes," she said absently, "I'm sure you enjoyed it." 
"What did you find out?" Beldin asked Garion. 
"Well, for one thing, Zandramas is ahead of us again," Garion
replied. "She went through here a few days ago. She knows that 
Urvon's army is coming down through the mountains. He might be moving 
a little faster than we thought, though, because she's ordering the 
civilian population to delay him. They're more or less ignoring her." 
"Wise decision." Beldin grunted. "Anything else?" 
"She told them that this is all going to be settled before the 
summer's over.'' 
"That agrees with what Cyradis toid us at Ashaba," Belgarath said. 
"All right, then. We all know when the meeting's going to happen. The 
only thing that's left to find out is where." 
"That's why we're all in such a hurry to get to Kell," Beldin said. 
"Cyradis is sitting on that information like a mother hen on a clutch 
of eggs." 
"What is it?" Belgarath burst out irritably. 
"What's what?"
"I'm missing something. It's something important and it's something 
you told me."
"I've told you lots of things, Belgarath. You don't usually listen, 
though." 
"This was a while back. It seems to me we were sitting in my tower, 
talking." 
"We've done that from time to time over the last several thousand
years." 
"No. This was more recent. Eriond was there and he was just a boy." 
"That would put it at about ten years or so ago, then." 
"Right." 
340
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
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341
"What were we doing ten years ago?" Belgarath began to pace up and 



down, scowling. "I'd been helping Durnik. We were making Poledra's 
cottage livable. You'd been here in Mallorea," 
Beldin scratched reflectively at his stomach. "I think I remember the 
time. We were sharing a cask of ale you'd stolen from the twins, and 
Eriond was scrubbing the floor." 
"What were you telling me?" 
Beldin shrugged. "I'd just come back from Mallorea. I was describing 
conditions here and telling you about the Sardion—although we didn't 
know very much about it at that point." 
"No," Belgarath shook his head. "That wasn't it. You said something 
about Kell." 
Beldin frowned, thinking back. "It must not have been very important, 
because neither of us seems to be able to remember it." 
"It seems to me it was just something you said in passing." 
"I say a lot of things in passing. They help to fill up the blank 
spaces in a conversation. Are you certain it was all that important? 
" 
Belgarath nodded. "I'm sure of it." 
"All right. Let's see if we can track it down." 
"Won't this wait, father?" Polgara asked. 
"No, Pol. I don't think so. We're right on the edge of it, and I 
don't want to lose it again." 
"Let's see," Beldin said, his ugly face creased with thought. "I came 
in, and you and Eriond were cleaning. You offered me some of the ale 
you'd stolen from the twins. You asked me what I'd been doing since 
Belgarion's wedding, and I told you I'd been keeping an eye on the 
Angar-aks." 
"Yes," Belgarath agreed. "I remember that part." 
"I told you that the Murgos were in general despair about the death 
of Taur Urgas, and that the western Grolims had gone to pieces over 
the death of Torak." 
"Then you told me about Zakath's campaign in Cthol Murgos and about 
how he'd added the Kal to his name." 
"That actually wasn't my idea," Zakath said with a slightly pained 
look. "Brador came up with it—as a means 
of unifying Mallorean society." He made a wry face. "It didn't really 
work all that well, I guess." 
"Things do seem a bit disorganized here," Silk agreed. 
"What did we talk about then?" Belgarath asked. 
"Well," Beldin replied, "as I remember it, we told Eriond the story 
of Vo Mimbre, and then you asked me what was going on in Mallorea. I 
told you that things were all pretty much the same—that the 
bureaucracy's the glue that holds everything together, that there 
were plots and intrigues in Melcena and Mal Zeth, that Karanda and 
Dar-shiva and Gandahar were on the verge of open rebellion, and that 
the Grolims—" He stopped, his eyes suddenly going very wide. 


"Are still afraid to go near Kell!" Belgarath completed it in a shout 
of triumph. "That's it!" 
Beldin smacked his forehead with his open palm. "How could I have 
been so stupid?" he exclaimed. Then he fell over on his back, howling 
with laughter and kicking at the ground in sheer delight. "We've got 
her, Belgarath!" he roared. "We've got them all—Zandramas, Urvon, 
even Agachak! They can't go to Kell!" 
Belgarath was also laughing uproariously. "How did we miss it?" 
"Father," Polgara said ominously. "This is beginning to make me 
cross. Will one of you please explain all this hysteria?" 
Beldin and Belgarath were capering hand in hand in a grotesque little 
dance of glee. 
"Will you two stop that?" Polgara snapped. 
"Oh, this is just too rare, Pol," Beldin gasped, catching her in a 
bear hug. 
"Don't do that! Just talk!" 
"All right, Pol," he said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. 
"Kell is the holy place of the Dais. It's the center of their whole 
culture." 
"Yes, uncle. I know that." 
"When the Angaraks overran Dalasia, the Grolims came in to erase the 
Dalasian religion and to replace it with the worship of Torak—the 
same way they did in Karanda. When they found out the significance of 
Kell, they moved to destroy it. The Dais had to prevent that, so they 
put their 
342 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
343 
wizards to work on the problem. The wizards laid curses on the entire 
region around Kell." He frowned. "Maybe curses isn't the right word/1 
he admitted. "Enchantments might be closer, but it amounts to the 
same thing. Anyway, since the Grolims were the real danger to Kell, 
the enchantments were directed at them. Any Grolim who tries to 
approach Kell is struck blind." 
"Why didn't you tell us about this earlier?" she asked him tartly. 
"I've never really paid that much attention to it. I probably even 
forgot about it. I don't bother to go into Dalasia because the Dais 
are all mystics, and mysticism has always irritated me. The seers all 
talk in riddles, and necromancy seems like a waste of time to me. I 
wasn't even sure if the enchantments really worked. Grolims are very 
gullible sometimes. A suggestion of a curse would probably work just 
as well as a real one." 
"You know," Belgarath mused, "I think the reason we missed it was 
because we've been concentrating on the fact that Urvon, Zandramas, 
and Agachak are all sorcerers. We kept overlooking the fact that 


they're also Grolims." 
"Is this curse—or whatever you call it—aimed specifically at the 
Grolims," Garion asked, "or would it affect us, too?" 
Beldin scratched at his beard. "It's a good question, Belgarath," he
said. "That's not the sort of thing you'd want to risk lightly." 
"Senji!" Belgarath snapped his fingers.
"I didn't quite follow that." 
"Senji went to Kell, remember? And even as inept as he is, he's still 
a sorcerer." 
"That's it, then/' Beldin grinned. "We can go to Kell, and they 
can't. They'll have to follow us for a change." 
"What about the demons?" Dumik asked soberly. "Na-haz is already 
marching toward Kell, and as far as we know, Zandramas has Mordja 
with her. Would they be able to go to Kell? What I'm getting at is
that even if Urvon and Zandramas can't go there, couldn't they just 
send the demons instead to get the information for them?" 
Beldin shook his head. "It wouldn't do them any good. Cyradis won't 
let a demon anywhere near her copy of the 
Maflorean Gospels. No matter what other faults they have, the seers 
refuse to have anything to do with the agents of chaos." 
"Could she prevent either of the demons from just taking what they
want, though?" Durnik looked worried. "Let's face it, Beldin. A demon
is a fairly awful thing." 
"She can take care of herself," Beldin replied. "Don't worry about
Cyradis."
"Master Beldin," Zakath objected, "she's little more than a child,
and with her eyes bound like that, she's utterly /helpless." 
Beldin laughed coarsely. "Helpless? Cyradis? Man, are you out of your 
mind? She could probably stop the sun if die needed to. We can't even 
begin to make guesses about how much power she has." 
"I don't understand." Zakath looked baffled. 
"Cyradis is the focus of all the power of her race, Zakath," Polgara 
explained. "Not only the power of the Dais who are presently alive, 
but also that of all of them who have ever lived."
"Or who might live in the future, for all we know," Belgarath added. 
"That's an interesting idea," Beldin said. "We might want to discuss 
it someday. Anyway,'' he continued to Zakath, "Cyradis can do just
about anything she has to do to make sure the final meeting takes 
place at the correct time and the correct place. Demons aren't a part 
of that meeting, so she'll probably just ignore them; and if they get
too troublesome, she'll just send them back where they came from." 
"Can you do that?" 
Beldin shook his head. 
"But she can?"
"I think so, yes." 
"I'm having a little trouble with all this," Silk admitted. "If none 



of the Grolims can go to Kell without going blind, and if the demons 
aren't going to find out anything, even if they do go there, why are 
they all running toward it? What good's it going to do them?" 
"They're putting themselves into a position where they can follow us 
when we come out," Belgarath replied. "They know we can go there and 
that we'll find out where the 
344 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
meeting is going to take place. They probably plan to tag along 
behind when we leave." 
"That's going to make it very nervous when we leave Kell, isn't it? 
We'll have half the Grolims in the world right behind us.'* 
"Everything will work out, Silk," Belgarath replied confidently. 
"Fatalism does not fill me with confidence at this point, old man," 
Silk said acidly. 
Belgarath's expression became almost beatific. "Trust me," he said. 
Silk glared at him, threw his arms in the air, and then stamped away, 
swearing under his breath. 
"You know, I've been wanting to do that to him for years/' the old 
man chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. "I think it was actually worth 
the wait. All right. Let's get things together again and move on." 
They transferred some of the supplies from the box across the back of 
the little carriage to the packhorses, and then Duraik stood 
considering the vehicle thoughtfully. "It's not going to work," he 
said. 
"What's wrong with it?" Silk asked him a bit defensively. 
"The horse has to be hitched between those shafts. If we put the wolf 
on the seat, she'll be right behind him. He'll bolt at that point. 
Nothing could stop him." 
"I suppose I didn't think of that," Silk said glumly. 
"It's the smell of the wolf mat sends horses into such a panic, isn't 
it?" Velvet asked. 
"That and the snapping and snarling," Duraik replied. 
"Belgarion can persuade her not to snap and snarl." 
"What about the smell?" Silk asked. 
"I'll take care of that." She went to one of the packs and removed a 
small glass bottle. "I expect you to buy me some more of this, Prince 
Kheldar," she said firmly. "You stole the wrong kind of carriage, so 
it's up to you to replace what I have to use to smooth over your 
blunder.'' 
"What is it?" he asked suspiciously. 
"Perfume, Kheldar, and it's dreadfully expensive." She looked at 
Garion, her smile dimpling her cheeks. "I'll need 
DAVID EDDINGS 
345 
you to translate for me," she said. "I wouldn't want the wolf to 


misunderstand when I start to sprinkle this on her." 
"Of course."
When the two of them returned from the sledlike contraption the wolf 
and her puppy were riding in, they found Ce'Nedra firmly ensconced on 
the front seat of the smart little carriage. "This will do very 
nicely, Prince Kheldar," she said brightly. "Thank you ever so much." 
"But-"
"Was there something?" she asked, her eyes wide.
Silk's expression grew surly, and he wandered away muttering to
himself. 
"His morning has taken a turn for the worse, hasn't it?" Zakath 
observed to Garion. 
"He's doing all right," Garion replied. "He got all the entertainment 
out of cheating that merchant and stealing the carriage. He gets 
unbearable if he has too many successes in a row. Ce'Nedra and 
Liselle usually manage to let the air out of him, though." 
"You mean they cooked all that up between them?" 
"They didn't have to. They've been doing it for so long now that they 
don't even have to discuss it any more." 
"Do you think Liselle*s perfume will work?"
"There's one way to find out," Garion said. 
They transferred the injured wolf from the sled to the front seat of
the two-wheeled carriage and dabbed some perfume on the bridge of the 
horse's nose. Then they stepped back and looked closely at the horse 
while Ce'Nedra held the reins tightly. The horse looked a bit 
suspicious, but did not panic. Garion went back for the puppy and 
deposited him in Ce'Nedra's lap. She smiled, patted the she-wolf on 
the head, and shook the reins gently.
"That's really unfair," Silk complained to Garion as they all moved 
out in the Rivan Queen's wake. 
"Did you want to share that seat with the she-wolf?" Garion asked 
him.
Silk frowned. "I hadn't thought of that, I guess," he admitted. "She 
wouldn't really bite me, though, would she?" 
"I don't think so, but then, you never know with wolves." 
"I think I'll stay where I am, then." 
346
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"That might be a good idea." 
*'Aren't you just a little worried about Ce'Nedra? That wolf could 
eat her in two bites." 
"No. She won't do that. She knows that Ce'Nedra's my mate and she 
sort of likes me." 
"Ce'Nedra's your wife." Silk shrugged. "If the wolf bites her in two, 
I suppose Polgara could put her back together again." 
As they started out, a thought came to Garion. He rode forward and 



fell in beside Zakath. "You're the Emperor of Mallorea, right?" 
"How nice of you to notice finally," Zakath replied dryly.
"Then how is it that you didn't know about that curse Be Id in was 
talking about?" 
"As you may have noticed, Garion, I pay very little attention to the 
Grolims. I knew that most of them wouldn't go there, but I thought it
was just a superstition of some kind." 
"A good ruler tries to know everything he can about his kingdom," 
Garion said, then realized how priggish that sounded. "Sorry, 
Zakath," he apologized. "That didn't come out exactly the way I'd 
intended it to." 
"Garion," Zakath said patiently, "your kingdom's a small island. I'd 
imagine you know most of your subjects personally.'' 
"Well, a lot of them—by sight, anyway." 
"I thought you might. You know their problems, their dreams, and 
their hopes, and you take a personal interest in them." 
"Well, yes, I suppose I do." 
"You're a good king—probably one of the best in the world—but it's 
very easy to be a good king when your kingdom is so small. You've 
seen my empire, though—part of it anyway—and I'm sure you have at
least some idea of how many people live here. It would be utterly
impossible for me to be a good king. That's why I'm an emperor 
instead." 
"And a God?" Garion asked slyly. 
"No. I'll leave that particular delusion to Urvon and Zan-dramas. 
People's wits seem to slip a bit when they aspire to divinity, and, 
believe me, I need all my wits about me. I 
DAVID EDDINGS 
347
found that out after I'd wasted half my life trying to destroy Taur 
Urgas."
"Garion, dear," Ce'Nedra called from the carriage.
"Yes?"
''"Could you come back here a moment? The wolf is whimpering a 
little, and I don't know how to ask her what the trouble is." 
"I'll be right back," Garion said to Zakath, turning Chretienne
around and trotting back to the carriage. 
Ce'Nedra sat in the carriage with the wolf pup in her lap. The little
creature lay blissfully on his back with all four paws in the air 
while she scratched his furry tummy. 
The she-wolf lay on the seat beside her. The wolfs ears were
twitching and her eyes were mournful. 
"Are you in pain?" Garion asked her.
"Does this she of yours always talk this much?" she whined. 
It was impossible to lie, and evasion was almost as much out of the
question. "Yes," he admitted. 



"Can you make her stop?" 
"I can try." He looked at Ce'Nedra. "The wolf is very tired," he told 
her. "She wants to go to sleep." 
"I'm not stopping her." 
"YouVe been talking to her," he pointed out gently. 
"I was only trying to make friends with her, Garion." 
"You're already friends. She likes you. Now let her go to sleep." 
Ce'Nedra pouted. "I won't bother her," she said, sounding a bit 
injured. "I'll talk to the puppy instead." 
"He's tired, too." 
"How can they be so tired in the daytime?" 
"Wolves usually hunt at night. This is their normal sleeping time." 
"Oh. I didn't know that. All right, Garion. Tell her that I'll be 
quiet while they sleep." 
"Little sister," he said to the wolf, "she promises not to talk to
you if your eyes are closed." 
The wolf gave him a puzzled look. 
"She will think you're sleeping." 
The wolf managed to look shocked. "Is it possible in the language of
the man-things to say that which is not truth?" 
348
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
349
"Sometimes."
"How remarkable. Very well," she said. "If it is the rule of the
pack, I will do this. It is, however, very unnatural." 
"Yes. I know."
"I will close my eyes," the wolf said. "I will keep them closed all
day if it will keep her from chattering at me." She let out a long
sigh and closed her eyes. 
"Is she asleep?" Ce'Nedra whispered. 
"I think so," Garion whispered back. Then he turned and rode back to
the head of die column. 
The countryside grew more hilly and broken as they rode west. 
Although the overcast continued to be as heavy as before, there 
appeared to be some hint of light along the western horizon as
afternoon progressed. 
They clattered across a stone bridge that arched over a tumbling
stream. "It smells clean, Belgarath," Durnik said. "I think it's 
coming down out of the mountains."
Belgarath squinted up the gully from which the stream emerged. "Why
don't you have a look?" he suggested. "See if there's a place to make 
camp. Good water has been hard to find, so let's not pass any up." 
"I was thinking the same thing myself." Then the smith and his 
towering mute friend rode off upstream. 



They set up camp for the night several hundred yards up the gully 
where a bend in the stream had opened out a kind of curved gravel 
bench. After they had watered the horses and set up the tents, 
Polgara began cooking supper. She cut steaks from the side of beef 
and made a thick soup of dried peas, seasoned with chunks of ham. 
Then she set a large loaf of dark peasant bread near the fire to 
warm, humming to herself all the while. As always, cooking seemed to 
satisfy some deep-seated need in her. 
The supper which came from her fire that evening was of near-banquet 
proportions, and evening was settling in as they finished eating and 
leaned back contentedly. 
"Very good, Pol." Beldin belched. "I guess you haven't lost your 
touch after all." 
"Thank you, uncle." She smiled. Then she looked at Eriond. "Don't get 
too comfortable," she told him. "At least not until you've finished 
helping with the dishes." 
Eriond sighed and took a bucket down to the stream for water. 
"That used to be my job," Garion told Zakath. "I'm glad there's 
someone younger along this time." ~lf'Isn't mat women's work?" 
"Would you like to tell her that?" 
"Ah—now that you mention it, perhaps not." 
"You learn very fast, Zakath." 
"I don't believe I *ve ever washed a dish—not in my entire life." 
"IVe washed enough for both of us, and I wouldn't say that too 
loudly. She might decide that it's time for you to learn how." Garion 
gave Polgara a speculative sidelong glance. "Let's go feed the wolf 
and her puppy," he suggested. "Idleness in others irritates Aunt Pol 
for some reason, and she can almost always think of things for people 
to do." 
"Garion, dear," Polgara said sweetly as they rose. "After die dishes 
are done, we'll need water for bathing." 
"Yes, Aunt Pol," he said automatically. "You see?" he muttered to the 
Emperor of Mallorea, "I knew we hadn't moved quite fast enough." 
"Do you always do what she asks? And does she mean me, too?" 
Garion sighed. "Yes," he replied, "on both counts." 
They rose early the next morning, and Beldin soared off to scout on 
ahead while the rest ate breakfast, struck camp, and saddled their 
horses. The damp, sullen chill which had hovered over this desolate 
countryside was now edged with a drier kind of cold as the prevailing 
wind swept down from the summits of the Dalasian mountains. Garion 
pulled his cloak about him and rode on. They had gone only a league 
or so when Beldin s pi ruled down out of the overcast sky. ' 'I think 
you'd better turn south," he advised. "Urvon's just ahead, and his 
whole army's right behind him." 
Belgarath swore. 
"There's more," the hunchback told him. "The Darshi-vans managed to 


get past Atesca—or through him. They're coming up from behind. The 
elephants are leading the inarch. We're right between two armies 
here." 
"How far ahead of us is Urvon?" Belgarath asked him. 
If 
350 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
351 
"Six or eight leagues. He's in the foothills of the mountains." 
"And how far behind us are the elephants?" 
"About five leagues. It looks to me as if they're going to try to cut 
Urvon's column oif. There's no help for it, Bel-garath. We're going 
to have to run. We have to get out of the middle of this before the 
fighting starts." 
"Is Atesca pursuing Zandramas' army?" Zakath asked intently. 
"No. I think he followed your orders and pulled back to that enclave 
on the bank of the Magan." 
Belgarath was still swearing. "How did Urvon get this far south so 
fast?" he muttered. 
"He's killing his troops by the score," Beldin replied. "He's making 
them run, and Nahaz has demons whipping them along." 
"I guess we don't have any choice," Belgarath said. "We'll have to go 
south. Toth, will you be able to lead us to Kell if we go into the 
mountains down near the border of Gandahar?" 
The big mute nodded, then gestured to Durnik. 
"It's going to be more difficult, though," the smith translated. "The 
mountains are very rugged down there, and there's still a lot of snow 
at the higher elevations." 
"We'll lose a lot of time, Grandfather," Garion said. 
"Not as much as we'll lose if we get caught in the middle of a 
battle. All right. Let's go south." 
"In a moment, father," Polgara said. "Ce'Nedra," she called, "come up 
here." 
Ce'Nedra shook her reins and drove her carriage up to where they 
stood. 
Polgara quickly explained the situation to her. "Now then," she said, 
"we need to know exactly what they're doing and what they're planning 
to do—both armies. I think it's time for you to use my sister's 
amulet." 
"Why didn't I think of that?" Belgarath said, sounding a bit 
embarrassed. 
"You were too busy trying to remember all the swearwords you've ever 
heard," Beldin suggested. 
"Can you do that and drive the carriage at the same time?" Polgara 
asked the little queen. 


"I can try, Lady Polgara." Ce'Nedra sounded a little dubious. She 
lifted the sleeping puppy out of her lap and laid him beside his 
mother. /'Let's move out," Belgarath said. 
They turned oif the road and jolted across an open field through 
long-dead grass. After they had gone a short distance, Ce'Nedra 
called to Polgara. "It's not working, Lady Polgara," she said. "I 
need both hands on the reins on this rough ground." 
They reined in. 
"It's not that big a problem," Velvet said. "I'll lead the carriage 
horse, and Ce'Nedra can concentrate on what she's doing." 
"It's a little dangerous, Liselle," Belgarath objected. "If that 
carriage horse shies, he'll jerk you out of the saddle and the 
carriage will run right over you." 
"Have you ever seen me fall off a horse, Ancient One? Don't worry, 
I'll be perfectly fine." She rode over to the carriage horse and took 
hold of his reins. They started out slowly and then gradually picked 
up speed. Polgara rode beside the carriage, and Ce'Nedra, a little 
frown of concentration on her face, kept her hand on the amulet 
chained about her throat. 
"Anything?" Polgara asked. 
"I'm hearing a lot of random conversation, Lady Polgara," the little 
queen replied. "There are great numbers of people out there. Wait a 
minute," she said, "I think I've pinpointed Nahaz. That's not the 
sort of voice you forget." She frowned. "I think he's talking to 
Urvon's generals. They've had the Hounds out, so they know the 
elephants are coming." 
"Will you be able to come back to them?" Belgarath asked her. 
"I think so. Once I find somebody, I can usually locate him again 
fairly quickly." 
"Good. See if you can find out if the Darshivan generals know that 
Urvon's just ahead of them. If there's going to be a battle, I want 
to know exactly where it's going to happen." 
Ce'Nedra turned slightly, her amulet clenched tightly in 
352 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
353 
her fist. She closed her eyes. After a moment, she opened them. "I do 
wish they'd be still," she fretted. 
"Who?" Silk asked her. 
"The elephant herders. They babble worse than old women. Wait. There 
they are. I've got them now." She listened for a few moments as the 
carriage jolted along over the rough ground. "The Darshivan officers 
are very worried," she reported. "They know that Urvon's army is 
somewhere in the mountains, but they don't know his exact location. 
None of their scouts came back to report." 


"The Hounds are probably seeing to that," Silk said. 
"What are the Darshivans planning?" Belgarath asked. 
"They're undecided. They're going to push on cautiously and send out 
more scouts." 
"All right. Now see if you can go back to Nahaz." 
"I'll try." She closed her eyes again. "Oh, that's revolting!" she
exclaimed after a moment. 
"What is it, dear?" Polgara asked her.
"The Karands have found a narrow gorge. They're going to lure the 
elephants into it and then roll boulders and burning bushes down on
them from the top." She listened for a few moments longer. "Once 
they've eliminated the elephants, the whole army is going to charge
down out of the foothills and attack the rest of the Darshivans." 
"Is Urvon there?" Beldin asked, his eyes intent. 
"No. He's off to the side someplace. He's raving." 
"I think you'd better go find that gorge," Belgarath told the dwarf. 
"That's where the battle's going to be, and I want to be sure it's 
behind us and not on up ahead somewhere." 
"Right," Beldin agreed, crouching and spreading his arms. "Keep in
touch," he suggested even as he began to change form. 
They rode along at a careful walk, and Garion buckled on his shield. 
"Do you really think that's going to help if we run into an entire 
army?" Zakath asked him. 
"It may not help much, but it won't hurt." 
Belgarath rode now with his face lifted toward the murky sky. Garion 
could feel the old man's thought reaching out. 
"Not so loud, father," Polgara cautioned. "WeVe got Grolims all 
around us." 
"Good," he replied. "None of them will be able to tell | who's making
the noise. They'll all think it's just another Grolim." 
jThey rode on slowly with all of them watching the old sqrcerer. 
"North!" he exploded finally. "Beldin's found the gorge where the 
ambush is. It's behind us. A little hard riding now and we'll be 
completely clear of both armies." "Why don't we just sort of step 
right along, then?" Silk suggested.
DAVID EDDINGS 
355
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
They galloped south through the desolate countryside of western 
Darshiva with Velvet once again leading Ce'Nedra's horse. The little
queen clung to the side of the carriage with one hand and kept the 
other on her amulet. "The Darshivans still don't know that Urvon's 
waiting in ambush for them," she called. 
"I'd imagine they'll find out before too long," Silk called back. 
"How far is it to the border of Gandahar?" Garion asked Zakath. 
"I'd guess about twenty leagues." 



"Grandfather," Garion said, "do we really have to go that far south?" 
"Probably not," the old man replied. "Beldin's on up ahead. As soon 
as we're well past Urvon's scouts, he'll lead 
354 
us up into the mountains. I don't have any particular urge to explore 
Gandahar, do you?" 
"Not really, no." 
They rode on. 
The overcast grew perceptibly thicker, and Garion felt the first 
drops of a chill rain striking his face. 
They crested a hill, and Belgarath rose in his stirrups the better to 
see what lay ahead. "There," he said, pointing. "He's circling." 
Garion peered out across the shallow valley on the far side of the 
hill. A solitary bird, hardly more than a minuscule black speck in 
the distance, swung almost lazily in the air. They plunged down the 
hill, and the bird veered and flew off toward the west with slow 
strokes of his wings. They turned and followed. 
The intermittent rain turned to a chilly drizzle, obscuring the 
surrounding countryside with its filmy haze. 
"Don't you just love to ride in the rain?" Silk said with heavy 
irony. 
"Under the circumstances, yes," Sadi replied. "Rain's not quite as 
good as fog, but it does cut down the visibility, and there are all 
manner of people looking for us." 
"You've got a point there," Silk admitted, pulling his cloak tighter 
about him. 
The terrain grew increasingly rugged with outcroppings of weathered 
stone jutting up out of the ground. After about a half-hour of hard 
riding, Beldin led them into a shallow gully. They rode on, and the 
gully walls grew progressively steeper and higher. Soon they were 
riding up a narrow, rocky ravine. 
It was midafternoon by now, and they were all thoroughly soaked. 
Garion wiped his face and peered ahead. The sky to the west appeared 
to be growing lighter, giving promise of clearing. He had perhaps not 
even been aware of how much the prevailing gloom hanging over 
Darshiva had depressed him. He urged Chretienne into a run. Somehow 
he seemed to feel that once they reached the sunlight again, they 
would be safe. 
He rounded a bend in the ravine and saw Beldin standing in the trail 
ahead of them. The dwarfs matted hair hung in scraggly wet strands 
about his shoulders, and his beard was 
356 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
357 
dripping. "You'd better slow down," he growled at them. "I could hear 


you coming for a mile, and we're not alone in these foothills." 
Regretfully, Garion reined Chretienne in. 
"Exactly where does this ravine lead?" Belgarath asked die hunchback. 
"It twists and turns a lot, but eventually it opens out onto a ridge 
top. The ridge runs north and south. If we follow it north, we'll
come to the main caravan route. That's the fastest way down into 
Dalasia."
"Everybody else knows that, too." 
"That's all right. We'll be at least a day ahead of them. They still 
have a battle to fight." 
"Are you going to scout ahead again?" 
"Not until the rain lets up. My feathers are wet. It'd take a derrick 
to get me off the ground again. Oh, one other tiling. When we get to
that ridge, we're going to have to be careful. A couple leagues 
north, it runs just a few miles above the spot where Nahaz has his 
ambush set up." 
"Your choice of a route leaves a lot to be desired," Belgarath said. 
"If someone down there happens to look up, we'll have half of Urvon's 
army all over us." 
"Not unless they can fly. An earthquake went through here a few 
thousand years ago and it sliced off the side of that ridge. It's a 
very steep cliff now." 
"How high?" 
"High enough—a thousand feet or so." 
"How far is it to the caravan route?" 
"About fifteen leagues from the place where we'll come out on the 
ridge." 
"North of Urvon's army, then?"
"Quite a bit north, yes." 
"Why did Nahaz pass it by? Why didn't he just turn west?"
"He probably didn't want the Darshivans and their elephants coming up
behind him. Besides, he's a demon. I'd guess he just couldn't bring 
himself to pass up the chance for a mass slaughter." 
"Maybe. Do you think the battle's going to start this afternoon?" 
"I doubt it. Elephants don't move all that fast, and the 
Darshivans are moving cautiously. They'll stop for the night soon. 
First thing tomorrow morning, though, things are going to start 
getting noisy." 
"Maybe we can get past the place where the ambush is set up during
the night." 
"I wouldn't advise it. You won't be able to light any torches, and 
that cliffs a sheer drop. If you ride off the edge of it, you'll
bounce all the way back to the Magan." 
Belgarath grunted. "Are you sure you can't fly?"
"Not a chance. Right now you couldn't get me into the air with a 
catapult.'' 



"Why don't you change into a duck?" 
"Why don't you mind your own business?" 
"All right, Garion," Belgarath said with some resignation, "I guess 
it's up to us, then." He slid down out of his saddle and walked on up 
the ravine. Garion sighed, dismounted, and followed him.
They ranged out ahead, searching the soggy terrain with their ears
and noses. It was almost evening when the walls of the ravine began 
to fan out, and they could see the line of the ridge top ahead. They 
reached it and loped north through the gradually diminishing drizzle. 
"Grandfather," Garion said, "I think that's a cave over there." He 
pointed with his muzzle at an opening in the rock. 
"Let's look."
The opening of the cave was narrow, not much more than a wide crack,
and the cavern did not open up noticeably inside. It was deep, 
however, running far back into the rock. It seemed more like a long 
corridor than a room. 
"What do you think?" Garion asked as the two of them stood at the 
entrance peering back into the darkness. 
"It's a place to get in out of the weather, and it's a good place to
hide for the night. Go get the others, and I'll see if I can get a 
fire started." 
Garion turned and loped back down the ridge. The rain was definitely 
slacking off now, but the wind was coming up, and it was getting 
colder. 
The others were coming warily up out of the ravine when Garion
reached them. 
358
SORCERESS OP DARSHIVA 
"Another cave?" Silk said plaintively when Garion told them what he
and Belgarath had found. 
"I'll hold your hand, Kheldar," Velvet offered.
"I appreciate the gesture, Liselle, but I don't think it's going to
help very much. I loathe caves." 
"Someday you'll have to tell me why." 
"No. I don't think so. I don't like to talk about it. I don't even 
like to think about it." 
Garion led them to the narrow track atop the ridge. Ce'Nedra's 
carriage jolted over the rocky ground. The smug look that had come
over her face when she had expropriated the vehicle had evaporated, 
and she rode with resignation, wincing at every bump. 
"That's not much of a cave," Beldin said critically when they reached 
the opening in the rock. 
"Feel free to sleep outside," Belgarath told him.
"We're going to have to put blinders on the horses to get them 
inside/' Durnik noted. "They'll take one look at that opening and 
flatly refuse even to try it."



"I feel much the same way myself," Silk said. "Sometimes it's 
surprising just how intelligent horses really are." 
"We're not going to be able to get the carriage inside," Sadi said. 
"We can cover it with tent canvas and sprinkle dirt over it," Durnik 
said. "It won't be really visible—at least not in the dark." 
"Let's get started," Belgarath said. "I think we want to be inside 
before it gets much darker." 
It took the better part of half an hour to get the balky horses into 
the narrow cave. Then Durnik covered the entrance with tent canvas 
and went back outside to help Eriond and Toth conceal the carriage. 
The she-wolf had limped into the cave, followed by her frolicsome 
pup. Now that he was being fed regularly, the previously listless 
animal had turned playful. His mother, too, Garion noted, had begun 
to fill out again, and her fur was glossy and less matted. "An 
excellent den," she observed. "Will we hunt from here?" 
"No, little sister," Polgara replied, stirring the small pot of 
simmering herbs on the fire. "We have things that must be done in 
another place. Let me have a look at your hurt." 
DAVID EDDINGS 
359 
Obediently, the wolf lay down by the fire and extended her injured 
paw. Polgara gently unwrapped it and examined ttye ulcers. "Much 
better," she said. "It's nearly healed. Does it still cause you 
pain?" 
"Pain is to be endured," the wolf replied indifferently. "It is of no 
moment." 
"The amount of pain, however, tells us how much longer it will be 
until the hurt is gone." 
"That is true," the wolf admitted. "I have observed the same thing 
myself in times past. The pain is less now. The hurt is going away, I 
think." 
Polgara bathed the injured paw in the pungent juice from her pot, 
then mixed the pulped herbs with soap and sugar again, packed it over 
the wound, and replaced the bandage. "We will not have to do this 
again, little sister," she told her patient. "The hurt is nearly 
gone." 
"I am grateful," the wolf said simply. "Will I be able to walk when 
it grows light again? The thing which runs on round feet is most 
uncomfortable to sit in, and the she who makes it run talks much." 
"Sit in it one more time while it is light," Polgara advised. "Give 
the hurt that much more time to go away." 
The wolf sighed and laid her chin on her paws. 
They carried water from a nearby spring, and Polgara cooked supper. 
After they had eaten, Belgarath rose to his feet. "Let's have a look 
around," he said to Garion. "I want to get an idea of what we're 
dealing with." 


Garion nodded and stood up. The two of them went outside the cave, 
carrying Silk's supper out to him. The little man had volunteered, 
enthusiastically, Garion thought, to stand watch. "Where are you 
going?" he asked, sitting down on a rock to eat. 
"We're going to nose around a bit," Belgarath replied. 
"Good idea. You want me to come along?" 
"No. You'd better stay here and keep your eyes open. Warn the others 
if anybody comes up the ridge." Then the old man led Garion a few 
hundred feet up the ridge line, and the two of them made the change 
into their other forms. Garion had changed back and forth so many 
times in the past few months that at times the distinction between 
the two shapes had begun to blur and, oftentimes, even when 
360 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
361 
he was in his human form, he found himself thinking in the language 
of wolves. He loped along behind the great silver wolf, considering 
this peculiar loss of identity. 
Belgarath stopped. "Keep your mind on what we're doing," he said. 
"Your ears and nose won't be much good to us if you're woolgathering." 
"Yes, revered pack-leader," Garion replied, feeling very embarrassed. 
Wolves seldom needed reprimanding and they were covered with shame 
when it happened. 
When they reached the spot where the side of the ridge had been 
sheared away by the earthquake, they stopped. The foothills that 
sloped down toward the plain were dark. Urvon's army was obviously 
under orders to build no fires. Out on the plain itself, however, the 
watch fires twinkled in profusion like small orange stars. 
"Zandramas has a big army," Garion sent his thought quietly to his 
grandfather. 
"Yes," the old man agreed. "That battle tomorrow morning might take 
quite a while. Even Nahaz's demons are going to need a lot of time to 
kill that many people." 
"The longer the better. They can take all week, if they want to. We 
could be halfway to Kell by then." 
Belgarath looked around. "Let's go on up the ridge a ways and have a 
look." 
"All right." 
Despite Beldin's warning that there might be scouts from the two 
armies here in the higher foothills, the two wolves encountered no 
one. "They probably went back to report," Garion heard Belgarath's 
voice speaking in his mind. "They'll be out again first thing in the 
morning, most likely. Let's go on back to the cave and get some 
sleep." 
They rose early the following morning, long before first light. They 


were all subdued as they ate breakfast. Although the two armies 
facing each other below them were composed entirely of enemies, none 
of them took any particular pleasure in the prospect of the bloodshed 
the day would bring. After breakfast, they carried out the packs and 
their saddles and, last of all, they led out the horses. 
"You're quiet this morning, Garion," Zakath said as the two were 
saddling their mounts. 

* 'I was just wondering if mere might be some way to stop ;what's 
going to happen today." 
"Not really," Zakath told him. "Their positions are too firmly fixed. 
It's too late to turn it back now. The Darshi-vans will advance, and 
Urvon's army will ambush them. I Ve organized enough battles to know 
that at a certain point tilings become inevitable." 
"The way Thull Mardu was?" 
"Thull Mardu was a blunder," Zakath admitted. "I should have gone 
around Ce'Nedra's army instead of trying to go through it. The 
Grolims had me convinced that they could hold that fog in place all 
day. I should have known better than to believe them. And I 
definitely shouldn't have underestimated the Asturian bowmen. How can 
they possibly shoot arrows that fast?" 
"There's a knack to it. Lelldorin showed me how it's done." 
"Lelldorin?" 
"An Asturian friend of mine." 
"We've always been told that Arends are stupid to the point of 
imbecility.'' 
"They're not overly bright," Garion admitted. "Maybe that's what 
makes them such good soldiers. They don't have enough imagination to 
be afraid." He smiled in the darkness. "Mandorallen can't even 
conceive of the possibility that he could lose a fight. He'd attack 
your whole army—all by himself." 
"The Baron of Vo Mandor? I know his reputation." Zakath laughed 
wryly. "It's entirely possible that he'd win, you 
know. * * 
"Don't ever tell him that. He has enough problems as it is." Garion 
sighed. "I wish he were here, though—and Barak and Hettar and even 
Relg." 
"Relg?" L , „ 
"He's an Ulgo mystic. He walks through rock. 
Zakath stared at him. 
"I don't know how, so don't ask me. I saw him stick a Grolim into a 
large boulder once. Then he just left him there with only his bands 
sticking out." 
Zakath shuddered. 
They mounted and rode slowly up the ravine with 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 


DAVID EDDINGS 

Ce'Nedra's carriage jolting along behind them. The sky gradually grew 
lighter overhead, and Garion saw that they were approaching the edge 
of the cliff that overlooked the site of the impending battle. 
"Belgarath," Zakath said quietly, "would you mind a suggestion?" 
"I'll always listen to suggestions." 
"This is probably the only place where we'll be able to see what's 
going on down below. Wouldn't it be a good idea to stop and make sure 
that the armies down there are fully engaged before we move on? If 
the Darshivans outflank Ur-von's ambush, we'll have them no more than 
a few leagues behind us. We'll need to run at that point." 
Belgarath frowned. "You might be right," he conceded. "It never hurts 
to know the whole situation." He reined in. "All right," he said, 
"we'll stop here and go ahead on foot. There's cover enough at the 
edge of that cliff so that we can watch without being seen." He swung 
down from his horse. 
"The ladies and I will wait here, father," Polgara told him. "We've 
seen battles before. I don't think we need to watch another one." She 
glanced at Eriond. "You stay with us, too," she told him. 
"Yes, Polgara." 
The rest of them moved forward at a crouch and took cover behind the 
few boulders at the edge of the cliff. The gloomy overcast that hung 
perpetually over Darshiva covered the blasted and decaying plain 
below with a sullen twilight. Out on the plain, Garion could make out 
tiny-appearing figures moving forward at what seemed no more than a 
crawl. 
"I think I've detected a flaw in what was otherwise an excellent 
plan," Zakath said wryly. "They're too far away to make out any 
details." 
"I can take care of that," Beldin growled. "A hawk's eyes are about 
ten times more acute than a man's. I can circle over them at a few 
hundred feet and pick out every detail." 
"Are you sure your feathers are dry?" Belgarath asked. 
"That's why I slept near the fire last night." 
"All right. Keep me advised." 
"Naturally," The grim hunchback crouched and blurred. With an agile 
leap the hawk settled atop a boulder, his fierce eyes looking out 
over the plain. Then he spread his wings and dropped headlong off the 
cliff. 
"You people always take that so casually," Zakath noted. 
"It's not really that," Sadi murmured, rubbing his scalp. "It's just 
that we're numb. The first time I saw him do it, my hair stood on 
end, and for me that's a neat trick." 
"Urvon's army's hiding in shallow pits along the ridge tops on either 
side of that long gorge," Belgarath repeated the silent words of the 


hawk soaring through the murky air for below them, "and the elephants 
are moving directly toward the same gorge." 
Zakath leaned out over the edge and looked down. 
"Careful," Garion said, catching the Mallorean's arm with one hand. 
"It is a long way down," Zakath agreed. "All right then," he said. 
"Now I see why the Darshivans are making for that gorge. It branches 
at the foot of this cliff, and one branch goes north. It probably 
connects with the main caravan route." He thought about it. "It's 
actually a good strategy. If Nahaz hadn't driven his troops so hard, 
the Darshivans would have reached the caravan route first, and they
could have set up an ambush of their own.'' He pulled back away from
the edge of the cliff. "That's one of the reasons I always hate to 
operate in rough terrain. I got a number of very nasty surprises in 
Cthol Murgos." 
"The elephants are starting to form up into a column,** Belgarath 
reported, "and the rest of the Darshivans are strung out behind 
them." 
"Are they putting out scouts?" Zakath asked.
"Yes, but they're only scouting along the floor of the gorge. A few 
of them went up to the ridge tops, but the Hounds eliminated those." 
They waited as Beldin circled above the two armies. 
"They're committed now," Belgarath said sadly. "The elephants are
starting into the gorge." 
"I feel a little sorry for the elephants," Durnik said. "They didn't 
volunteer for this. I wish they didn't plan to me fire on them." 
"It*s fairly standard, Goodman,*' Zakath said calmly. 
364
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
365
"Fire's the only thing elephants are really afraid of. They'll 
stampede back down the gorge." 
"Right through the Darshivans," Silk added in a slightly sick voice. 
"Nahaz should get his fill of blood today." 
"Do we really have to watch this?" Durnik asked. 
"We have to wait until it gets started," Belgarath replied.
"I think I'll go back and wait with Pol," the smith said, edging back 
from the cliff top. Then he and Toth went on down the ridge. 
"He's a very gentle person, isn't he?" Zakath said. 
"Usually," Garion replied. "When it's necessary, though, he can do 
what needs doing." 
"You remember the time he chased that Murgo into a quicksand bog," 
Silk said with a shudder, "and then watched him sink?"
"It shouldn't be too long now," Belgarath said tensely. "The last of
the elephants just entered the gorge." 
They waited. For some reason, Garion felt suddenly cold. 



Then, even though what was happening was more than a league away, 
they heard a thunderous rumbling sound as Urvon's troops began to 
roll huge boulders down on the advancing elephants. Faintly they 
could hear the agonized screams of the huge beasts. Then, smoke and 
flame began to boil up out of the gorge as the brutish Karands rained 
huge piles of burning brush down on the helpless animals. 
"I think I've seen enough," Sadi said. He rose and went back down the 
ridge. 
The surviving elephants, looking almost like ants in the distance, 
wheeled and fled in panic back down the gorge, and the agonized 
squeals of the animals were suddenly accompanied by human screams as 
the great beasts crushed their way through rank after rank of 
Darshivan soldiers. 
Beldin came soaring up from below and settled back on the boulder 
from which he had started. 
"What's that?" Silk exclaimed. "There at the mouth of the gorge." 
There seemed to be some vast disturbance in the murky air at the edge 
of the plain, a sort of shimmering filled with flickering, rainbowhued 
light and sullen flashes of heat lightning. Then, quite 
suddenly, the disturbance coalesced into a nightmare. 
"Belar!" Silk swore. "It's as big as a barn!" 
The thing was hideous. It had a dozen or more snakelike arms that 
writhed and lashed at the air. It had three blazing eyes and a vast 
muzzle filled with great fangs. It towered over the elephants and 
kicked them aside contemptuously with huge, clawed feet. Then with 
thunderous stride, it started up the gorge, walking indifferently 
through the flames and paying no more attention to the boulders 
bouncing off its shoulders than it might have to snowflakes. 
"What is that thing?" Zakath asked in a shaken voice. 
"That's Mordja," Belgarath told him. "I've seen him before—in 
Morindland—and that's not the sort of face one forgets." 
The demon in the gorge was reaching out with his many arms now, 
catching whole platoons of Karands in his clawed hands and almost 
casually hurling them with terrific force against the surrounding 
rocks. 
"It looks to me as if the tide of battle just turned," Silk said. 
"What's our general feeling about leaving—along about right now?" 
The Demon Lord Mordja raised his huge muzzle and thundered something 
in a language too hideous for human comprehension. 
"Stay put!" Belgarath ordered, catching Silk's arm. "This isn't 
played out yet. That was a challenge, and Nahaz won't be able to 
refuse it." 
Another of those flickering disturbances appeared in the air above 
the upper end of the gorge, and another towering form appeared out of 
its center. Garion could not see its face, a fact for which he was 
profoundly grateful, but it, too, had snaky arms growing in profusion 


from its vast shoulders. "Thou darest to face me, Mordja?" it roared 
in a voice which shook the nearby mountains. 
"I do not fear thee, Nahaz," Mordja bellowed back. 
"Our enmity hath endured for a thousand thousand years. 
..Let it end here. I shall carry word of thy death back to the 
{'-King of Hell and bear thy head with me as proof of my 
Swords." 
"My head is thine," Nahaz said with a chilling laugh. "Come and take 
it—if thou canst." 
366 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
"And thou wouldst bestow the stone of power on the mad Disciple of 
maimed Torak?" Mordja sneered. 
'' Thy sojourn in the land of the Morindim hath bereft thee of thy 
wits, Mordja. The stone of power shall be mine, and I shall rule 
these ants that creep upon the face of this world. I will raise them 
like cattle and feed upon them when I hunger. *' 
"How wilt thou feed, Nahaz—without thy head? It is I who will rule 
and feed here, for the stone of power shall lie in my hand." 
"That we will soon discover, Mordja. Come. Let us contend for a head 
and for the stone we both desire." Suddenly Nahaz spun about, his 
baleful eyes searching the top of the cliff where Garion and his 
friends lay hidden. A volcanic hiss burst from the demon's distorted 
lips. "The Child of Light!" he roared. "Praise the name of the King 
of Hell, who hath brought him within my reach. I will rend him 
asunder and seize the stone which he carries. Thou art doomed, 
Mordja. That stone in my hand shall be thy undoing." With hideous 
speed the Demon Lord Nahaz clambered over the tumbled rocks at the 
foot of the cliff and reached out with his dozens of clawed hands at 
the sheer rock face. His vast shoulders heaved. 
"He's climbing straight up the rock!" Silk exclaimed in a strangled 
voice. "Let's get out of here!" 
The Demon Lord Mordja stood for a moment in stunned chagrin, then he, 
too, ran forward and began to claw his way up the face of the cliff. 
Garion rose to his feet, looking down at the two vast monsters 
clambering up the sheer rock. He felt a peculiar detachment as he 
reached back over his shoulder and drew his sword. He untied the 
leather sleeve covering the hilt and slipped it off. The Orb glowed, 
and when he took the sword in both hands, the familiar blue flame ran 
up the blade. 
"Garion!" Zakath exclaimed. 
"They want the Orb," Garion said grimly. "Well, they're going to have 
to take it, and I may have something to say about that." 
But then Durnik was there. His face was calm, and he was stripped to 
the waist. In his right hand he carried an awesome sledgehammer that 
glowed as blue as Garion's 


DAVID EDDINGS 
367 
sword. "Excuse me, Garion," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "but 
this is my task." 
Polgara had come with him, and her fece showed no iear. She had drawn 
her blue cloak about her, and the snowy lock at ber brow glowed. 
"What's happening here?" Belgarath demanded. 
"Stay out of it, father," Polgara told him. "This is some-tiling that 
has to happen." 
Durnik advanced to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the two 
horrors struggling up the sheer face toward him. **I abjure ye," he 
said to them in a great voice, "return to the place from whence ye 
came, lest ye die." Overlaying his voice was another voice, calm, 
almost gentle, but with a power in it that shook Garion as a tree is 
shaken by a hurricane. He knew that voice. 
"Begone!" Durnik commanded, emphasizing that word with a dreadful 
blow of his sledge that shattered a boulder into fragments. 
The demons clawing their way up the cliff hesitated. 
At first it was barely perceptible. At first it seemed that Durnik 
was only swelling his chest and shoulders in preparation for an 
impossible struggle. Then Garion saw his oldest friend begin to grow. 
At ten feet, the smith was awesome. At twenty, he was beyond belief. 
The great hammer in his hand grew with him, and the blue nimbus about 
it grew more intense as he expanded and grew, thrusting the sullen 
air aside with his massive shoulders. The very rocks seemed to cringe 
back from him as, with long sweeps of his dreadful, glowing hammer, 
he loosened his arm. 
The Demon Lord Mordja paused, clinging to the rock. His bestial face 
suddenly showed fear. Again Durnik destroyed whole square yards of 
rock with a single ringing blow. 
Nahaz, however, his eyes ablaze and empty of thought, continued to 
slather and claw his way up the rock face, screeching imprecations in 
that dreadful language which only demons know. 
r; "So be it, then," Durnik said, and the voice in which he 
{ spoke was not his own, but that other, more profound voice, 
which rang in Garion's ears like the very crack of doom. 
The Demon Lord Mordja looked up, his terrible face filled 
368 
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA 
DAVID EDDINGS 
369 
with terror. Then suddenly he released his grip on the face of the 
rock cliff to topple and tumble to the rocks below. Howling, and with 
his multitudinous arms covering his scabrous head, he fled, 
Nahaz, however, his blazing eyes filled with madness, continued to 
sink his claws into naked rock and to haul his vast body up the 


cliff. 
Almost politely, it seemed, Durnik stepped back from the awful brink 
and wrapped both enormous hands about the glowing handle of his 
sledge. 
"Durnik!" Silk cried. "No! Don't let him get his feet under him!" 
Dumik did not reply, but a faint smile touched his honest face. Again 
he tested his vast hammer, swinging it in both hands. The sound of 
its passage through the air was not a whistle, but a roar. 
Nahaz clambered up over the edge of the cliff and rose enormously, 
clawing at the sky and roaring insanely in the hideous language of 
the demons. 
Durnik spat on his left hand; then on his right. He twisted his huge 
hands on the handle of his sledge to set them in place, then he swung 
a vast, overhand blow that took the Demon Lord full in the chest. 
"Begone!" the smith roared in a voice louder than thunder. The sledge 
struck fiery sparks from the demon's body, sullen orange sparks that 
sizzled and jumped on the ground like burning roaches. 
Nahaz screamed, clutching at his chest. 
Unperturbed, Durnik swung again. 
And again. 
Garion recognized the rhythm of his friend's strokes. Durnik was not 
fighting; he was hammering with the age-old precision of a man whose 
tools are but an extension of his arms. Again and again the glowing 
hammer crashed into the body of the Demon Lord. With each blow, the 
sparks flew. Nahaz cringed, trying to shield his body from those 
awful, shattering strokes. Each time Durnik struck, he roared, 
"Begone!" Gradually, like a man splitting a huge rock, he began to 
hammer Nahaz into pieces. Pythonlike arms fell writhing into the 
abyss, and great, craterlike holes appeared in the demon's chest. 
Unable to watch the dreadful work any longer, Garion 
averted his eyes. Far below, he saw Urvon's throne. The two dozen 
bearers who had carried it had fled, and the mad Disciple capered on 
the rocks howling insanely. 
Durnik struck again. "Begone!" "•And again. "Begone!" 
And again. "Begone!" 
Beaten beyond endurance, the Demon Lord Nahaz flinched back, missed 
his footing, and toppled off the cliff with a howl of rage and 
despair. Down and down he plunged, glowing with green fire like a 
streaking comet. As he drove into the earth, one snakelike arm lashed 
out and caught the last Disciple of Torak in a deathly grip. Urvon, 
shrieking, was pulled along as Nahaz sank into the earth like a stick 
into water. 
When Garion looked back, Durnik had resumed his normal size. His 
chest and arms were covered with sweat, and he was breathing hard 
from his exertions. He held his glowing sledge out at arm's length, 
and its fire grew brighter and brighter until it was incandescent. 


Then the fire gradually faded, and the smith was holding a silver 
amulet in his hand with its chain draped across the backs of his 
fingers. 
The voice which had overlain Durnik's during his awful encounter with 
the Demon Lord now spoke in no more than a whisper. "Know that this 
good man is also my beloved Disciple, since he was best suited of all 
of ye for this task.'' 
Belgarath bowed in the direction the voice was coming from. "It shall 
be as You say, Master," he said in a voice thick with emotion. "We 
welcome him as a brother." 
Polgara came forward with a look of wonder on her face and gently 
took the amulet from Durnik's hand. "How very appropriate," she said 
softly, looking at the silver disc. She lovingly hung the chain 
around her husband's neck, then she kissed him and held him to her 
tightly. 
"Please, Pol," he objected with flaming cheeks, "we're not alone, you 
know." 
She laughed her warm, rich laugh and held him even tighter. 
Beldin was grinning crookedly. "Nice job, brother mine," he said to 
Durnik. "Hot work though, I'd imagine." He reached out his hand and 
took a foaming tankard out of the air and handed it to Aldur's newest 
Disciple. 
370 
SORCERESS OP DARSHFVA 
Durnik drank gratefully. 
Belgarath clapped him on the shoulder. "It's been a long, long time 
since we last had a new brother," he said. Then he quickly embraced 
Durnik. 
"Oh," Ce'Nedra said with a little catch in her voice, "that's just 
beautiful." 
Wordlessly, Velvet handed her the wispy little handkerchief. "What is 
that on his amulet?" the blond girl asked, sounding just a bit awed. 
"It's a hammer," Belgarath told her. "What else could it be?" 
"If I might make a suggestion, Ancient One," Sadi said diffidently, 
"the armies down there on the plain seem to be in a state of total 
contusion. Wouldn't this be an excellent time to depart—before they 
regain their wits?" 
"My thought exactly," Silk approved, putting his hand on the eunuch's 
shoulder. 
"They're right, Belgarath," Beldin agreed. "We've done what we were 
sent here to do—or Durnik has, at least." The hunchback sighed and 
looked over the edge of the cliff. "I really wanted to kill Urvon 
myself," he said, "but I suppose this is even better. I hope he 
enjoys his sojourn in Hell." 
A shrill laugh suddenly came from the top of the ridge, a laugh of 
triumph. Garion whirled, then stopped, frozen with surprise. Atop the 


ridge stood the black-robed figure of the Sorceress of Darshiva. 
Beside her stood a blond little boy. Geran's features had changed in 
the year and more since he had been abducted, but Garion knew him 
instantly. "Ye have done my work well," Zandramas declared. "I myself 
could not have found a more fitting end for Torak's last Disciple. 
Now, Child of Light, only thou standest between me and Cthrag 
Sardius. I will await thy coming in the Place Which Is No More. There 
shall thou be a witness when I raise up a New God over Angorak, whose 
dominion over all the world shall endure until the end of days!" 
Geran reached out his hand imploringly to Ce'Nedra, but then he and 
Zandramas vanished. 
"How remarkable," the she-wolf said in surprise. 
DAVID EDDINGS 
Here ends Book IV of The Malloreon. Book V, The Seeress of Kelt, will 
take up the final result of the War of Destinies and of the people 
involved. 
371