‘Natural?’ Durnik asked. ‘How can you make a murder look natural?’
‘Please, Durnik. Murder is such an ugly word.’
‘He smothered them in their beds with their own pillows,’ Garion explained.
‘And one fellow sort of accidentally fell out of a window,’ Silk added. ‘Rather a high one as I recall. He came down on an iron fence.’
Durnik shuddered.
‘I managed to visit five of them night before last, but the methods were taking entirely too long, so last night I was a bit more direct. I did sort of linger for a time with the Baron Kelbor, though. He was the one who actually gave the order to have Bethra killed. We had a very nice chat before he left us.’
‘Kelbor’s house is the most closely guarded in Tol Honeth,’ Ce’Nedra said. ‘How did you manage to get in?’
‘People seldom look up at night—particularly when it’s snowing. I went in over the rooftops. Anyway, Kelbor gave me some very useful information. It seems that the man who told the Honeths about Bethra’s activities was a Mallorean.’
‘Naradas?’ Garion asked quickly.
‘No. This one had a black beard.’
‘Harakan, then?’
‘Lots of people have beards, Garion. I’d like a little bit more confirmation—not that I’d object to cutting Harakan up into little pieces, but I’d hate to let the real culprit get away because I was concentrating too much on our old friend.’ His face went bleak again. ‘That’s particularly true in view of the fact that, from what Kelbor said, this helpful Mallorean arranged and participated in Bethra’s murder—sort of as a favor to the Honeth family.’
‘I do wish that you’d go take a bath, Prince Kheldar,’ Ce’Nedra said. ‘What on earth possessed you to take up residence in a garbage heap?’
He shrugged. ‘I was interrupted during my last visit, and a number of people were chasing me. This snow complicated things a bit. My tracks were fairly easy for them to follow. I needed a place to hide, and the garbage heap was handy.’ His look became disgusted. ‘It never snows in Tol Honeth.’
‘You’d be amazed at how many people have told me the same thing today,’ Garion murmured.
‘I really think we should leave almost immediately,’ Silk said.
‘What for?’ Durnik asked. ‘You got away, didn’t you?’
‘You forget the tracks, Durnik.’ Silk held up one foot. ‘Rivan boots—an affectation, perhaps. They’re very comfortable, but they do leave distinctive tracks. I expect that it’s only going to be a matter of time before somebody puts a few things together and I’m not really in the mood for dodging Honethite assassins. They’re fairly inept, but they can be an inconvenience.’
The door opened rather quietly, and Silk instantly went into a crouch, his hands diving inside his smeared doublet for his daggers.
‘My goodness,’ the lavender-gowned Velvet said mildly, entering and closing the door behind her, ‘Aren’t we jumpy this evening?’
‘What are you doing here?’ Silk demanded.
‘I was attending the Imperial Ball. You have no idea how much gossip one can pick up at such affairs. The whole ballroom is buzzing with the accidents that have been befalling the Honeths in the past couple of nights. Under the circumstances, I thought it might have occurred to you that it was time for us to leave.’
‘Us?’
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? How forgetful of me. I’ll be joining you.’
‘You most certainly will not!’ Belgarath said.
‘I hate to contradict you, Ancient One,’ she said regretfully, ‘but I’m acting on orders.’ She turned to Silk. ‘My uncle has been a little nervous about some of your activities during the past few years. He trusts you, my dear Kheldar—you must never think that he doesn’t trust you—but he does sort of want somebody to keep an eye on you.’ She frowned. ‘I think that he’s going to be quite cross when he hears about your midnight visits to the Honeth family.’
‘You know the rules, Liselle,’ Silk replied. ‘Bethra was one of our people. We don’t let those things go.’
‘Naturally not. But Javelin prefers to order that sort of retaliation personally. Your somewhat hasty vengeance has robbed him of that opportunity. You’re just too independent, Silk. He’s right, you know. You do need to be watched.’ She pursed her lips slightly. ‘I must admit, though, that it was a very nice job.’
‘Now you listen to me, young lady,’ Belgarath said hotly. ‘I am not conducting a guided tour for the benefit of the Drasnian spy network.’
She gave him a disarming little smile and fondly patted his bearded cheek. ‘Oh, come now, Belgarath,’ she said, her soft brown eyes appealing, ‘do be reasonable. Wouldn’t it be more civilized—and convenient—to have me in your party rather than trailing along behind you? I am going to follow my orders, Revered One, whether you like it or not.’
‘Why is it that I have to be surrounded by women who won’t do as they’re told?’
Her eyes went very wide. ‘Because we love you, Immortal One,’ she explained outrageously. ‘You’re the answer to every maiden’s dreams, and we follow you out of blind devotion.’
‘That’s about enough of that, Miss,’ he said ominously. ‘You’re not going with us, and that’s final.’
‘You know,’ the dry voice in Garion’s mind mused, ‘I think I’ve finally isolated the difficulty I’ve always had with Belgarath. It’s his pure, pigheaded contrariness. He doesn’t really have any reason for these arbitrary decisions of his. He just does it to irritate me.’
‘Do you mean that she’s supposed to go along?’ Garion blurted, so startled that he said it aloud.
‘Of course she is. Why do you think I went to all the trouble to get her to Tol Honeth before you all left. Go ahead and tell him.’
Belgarath’s expression, however, clearly showed that Garion’s inadvertent exclamation had already told him that he had just been overruled. ‘Another visitation, I take it?’ he said in a slightly sick tone of voice.
‘Yes, Grandfather,’ Garion said. ‘I’m afraid so.’
‘She goes along then?’
Garion nodded.
‘I love to watch his expression when he loses one of these arguments,’ the dry voice said smugly.
Polgara began to laugh.
‘What’s so funny, Pol?’ Belgarath demanded.
‘Nothing, father,’ she replied innocently.
He suddenly threw his hands into the air. ‘Go ahead,’ he said in exasperation. ‘Invite all of Tol Honeth to come along. I don’t care.’
‘Oh, father,’ Polgara said to him, ‘stop trying to be such a curmudgeon.’
‘Curmudgeon? Pol, you watch your tongue.’
‘That’s really very difficult, father, and it makes one look ridiculous. Now, I think we should make a few plans. While the rest of us are changing clothes and packing, why don’t you and Garion go explain to Varana that we’re going to have to leave. Think up some suitable excuse. I don’t know that we necessarily want him to know about Silk’s nocturnal activities.’ She looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. ‘Durnik and Eriond and Toth will see to the horses, of course,’ she mused, ‘and I have a rather special little job for you, Prince Kheldar.’
‘Oh?’
‘Go wash—thoroughly.’
‘I suppose I should have my clothes laundered as well,’ he noted, looking down at his garbage-saturated doublet and hose.
‘No, Silk. Not laundered—burned.’
‘We can’t leave tonight, Lady Polgara,’ Ce’Nedra said. ‘All the gates of the city are locked, and the legionnaires won’t open them for anybody—except on the Emperor’s direct orders.’
‘I can get us out of the city.’ Velvet said confidently.
‘How are you going to manage that?’ Belgarath asked her.
‘Trust me.’
‘I wish people wouldn’t keep saying that to me.’
‘Oh, by the way,’ she continued, ‘I saw an old friend of ours today. A larg
e group of Honeths were riding toward the south gate.’ She looked over at Silk. ‘You really must have frightened them, Kheldar. They had whole battalions of their soldiers drawn up around them to keep you at a distance. Anyway, riding right in the middle of them and looking every inch a Tolnedran gentleman was the Mallorean, Harakan.’
‘Well, well,’ Silk said. ‘Isn’t that interesting?’
‘Prince Kheldar,’ Velvet said pleasantly, ‘please do go visit the baths—or at the very least, don’t stand quite so close.’
Chapter Six
A chill gray fog had risen from the river to shroud the broad avenues of Tol Honeth. The snow had turned to rain—a cold drizzle that sifted down through the fog, and, although the roofs and courtyards were still mantled in white, the thoroughfares and avenues were clogged with seeping brown slush, crossed and crisscrossed with the tracks of wagons and carriages. It was nearly midnight when Garion and the others quietly left the grounds of the Imperial Compound, and the few bands of holiday revelers they encountered in the streets were much the worse for drink.
Velvet, riding a chestnut mare and wrapped and cowled in a heavy gray cloak, led them down past the marble-fronted houses of the merchant barons of Tol Honeth, through the empty central market place and into the poorer quarters of the city lying to the south. As they turned the corner of a side street, an authoritative voice came out of the fog. ‘Halt!’
Velvet reined in her horse and sat waiting as a squad of helmeted and red-cloaked legionnaires armed with lances marched out of the rainy mist. ‘State your business, please,’ the sergeant in charge of the patrol said brusquely.
‘It’s not really business, dear fellow,’ Velvet replied brightly. ‘We’re on our way to an amusement. Count Norain is giving a party at his house. You do know the count, don’t you?’
Some of the suspicion faded from the sergeant’s face. ‘No, your Ladyship,’ he answered. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘You don’t know Norry?’ Velvet exclaimed. ‘What an extraordinary thing! I thought everyone in Tol Honeth knew him—at least he always says so. Poor Norry’s going to be absolutely crushed. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you and your men come along with us so that you can meet him? You’ll adore it. His parties are always so amusing.’ She gave the sergeant a wide-eyed, vapid smile.
‘I’m sorry, your Ladyship, but we’re on duty. Are you certain that you’re following the right street, though? You’re entering one of the meaner sections of the city, and I don’t recall any noblemen’s houses hereabouts.’
‘It’s a short cut,’ Velvet told him. ‘You see, we go down through here, and then we turn left.’ She hesitated, ‘Or was it right? I forget exactly, but I’m sure one of my friends knows the way.’
‘You must be careful in this part of town, your Ladyship. There are footpads and cutpurses about.’
‘My goodness!’
‘You really ought to be carrying torches.’
‘Torches? Great Nedra, no! The smell of the smoke from a torch lingers in my hair for weeks. Are you sure you can’t join us? Norry’s parties are so delightful.’
‘Give the count our regrets, your Ladyship.’
‘Come along, then,’ Velvet said to the others. ‘We really must hurry. We’re terribly late as it is. Goodbye, Captain.’
‘Sergeant, your Ladyship.’
‘Oh? Is there a difference?’
‘Never mind, your Ladyship. Hurry along now. You wouldn’t want to miss any of the fun.’
Velvet laughed gaily and moved her horse out at a steady trot.
‘Who is Count Norain?’ Durnik asked her curiously when they were out of earshot of the patrol.
‘A figment of my imagination, Goodman Durnik,’ Velvet laughed.
‘She’s a Drasnian, all right,’ Belgarath murmured.
‘Did you have any doubts, Eternal One?’
‘Exactly where are you taking us, Liselle?’ Polgara asked as they rode on down the foggy street.
‘There’s a house I know, Lady Polgara. It’s not a very nice house, but it’s built up against the south wall of the city, and it has a very useful back door.’
‘How can it have a back door if it’s up against the city wall?’ Ce’Nedra asked, pulling the hood of her green cloak forward to shield her face from the rainy mist.
Velvet winked at her. ‘You’ll see,’ she said.
The street down which they rode grew shabbier and shabbier. The buildings looming out of the fog were built of plain stone instead of marble, and many of them were windowless warehouses, presenting blank faces to the street.
They passed a rank-smelling tavern from which came shouts and laughter and snatches of bawdy songs. Several drunken men burst from the door of the tavern and began pummeling each other with fists and clubs. One burly, unshaven ruffian lurched into the street and stood swaying in their path.
‘Stand aside,’ Velvet said coolly to him.
‘Who says so?’
The impassive Toth moved his horse up beside Velvet’s mount, reached out with one huge arm, set the tip of the staff he carried against the man’s chest, and gave him a light push.
‘Just watch out who you’re shoving!’ The drunken man said, knocking the staff aside.
Without changing expression, Toth flicked his wrist, and the tip of the staff cracked sharply against the side of the fellow’s head, sending him reeling, vacant-eyed and twitching, into the gutter.
‘Why, thank you,’ Velvet said pleasantly to the mute giant, and Toth inclined his head politely as they rode on down the shabby street.
‘What in the world were they fighting about?’ Ce’Nedra asked curiously.
‘It’s a way to keep warm,’ Silk replied. ‘Firewood’s expensive in Tol Honeth, and a nice friendly fight stirs up the blood. I thought that everybody knew that.’
‘Are you making fun of me?’
‘Would I do that?’
‘He’s always had a certain streak of flippancy in his nature, your Majesty,’ Velvet said.
‘Liselle,’ Ce’Nedra told her quite firmly, ‘since we’re going to be traveling together, let’s drop the formalities. My name is Ce’Nedra.’
‘If your Majesty prefers it that way.’
‘My Majesty does.’
‘All right then, Ce’Nedra,’ the blond girl said with a warm smile.
They rode on through the unlighted streets of the Imperial City until they reached the looming mass of the south wall. ‘We go this way,’ Velvet told them, turning down a rainy street lying between the wall and a long string of warehouses. The house to which she led them was a stout, two-storey building, its stones black and shiny from the rain and fog, and it was set about a central courtyard and had a heavy front gate. Its narrow windows were all tightly shuttered, and a single small lantern gleamed over its gate.
Velvet dismounted carefully, holding her skirt up to keep its hem out of the slush. She stepped to the gate and tugged at a rope. Inside the courtyard a small bell tinkled. A voice from inside answered, and she spoke quietly for a moment to the gatekeeper. Then there was the sound of a clanking chain, and the gate swung open. Velvet led her horse into the courtyard, and the rest followed her. Inside, Garion looked around curiously. The courtyard had been cleared of snow, and the cobblestones gleamed wetly in the still-falling drizzle. Several saddled horses stood under an overhanging roof, and a couple of well-appointed carriages were drawn up to a solid-looking door.
‘Are we going inside?’ Ce’Nedra asked, looking about curiously.
Velvet gave her a speculative look, then turned to look at Eriond. ‘Perhaps that might not be such a good idea,’ she said.
The muffled sound of laughter came from somewhere inside, followed by a woman’s shrill squeal.
One of Polgara’s eyebrows went up. ‘I think Liselle is right,’ she said firmly. ‘We’ll wait out here.’
‘I’m a grown woman, Lady Polgara,’ Ce’Nedra objected.
‘Not that grown, dear.’
&
nbsp; ‘Will you accompany me, Prince Kheldar?’ Velvet asked the little man. ‘The presence of an unescorted woman in this house is sometimes misunderstood.’
‘Of course,’ he replied.
‘We won’t be long,’ Velvet assured the rest of them. With Silk at her side, she went to the door, rapped on its panels, and was immediately admitted.
‘I still don’t see why we can’t wait inside where it’s warm and dry,’ Ce’Nedra complained, shivering and pulling her cloak more tightly about her.
‘I’m sure you would if you went in there,’ Polgara told her. ‘A little rain won’t hurt you.’
‘What could possibly be that bad about this house?’
There was another squeal from inside followed by more raucous laughter.
‘That, for one thing,’ Polgara replied.
Ce’Nedra’s eyes grew wide. ‘You mean that it’s one of those places?’ Her face suddenly went bright red.
‘It’s got all the earmarks of it.’
After about a quarter of an hour, a slanting cellar door at the rear of the rain-drenched courtyard creaked open, and Silk came up from below carrying a gleaming lantern. ‘We’re going to have to lead the horses down,’ he told them.
‘Where are we going?’ Garion asked.
‘Down to the cellars. This place is full of surprises.’
In single file, leading their skittish horses, they followed Silk down a slanting stone ramp. From somewhere below, Garion could hear the gurgle and wash of running water; when they reached the foot of the ramp, he saw that the narrow passageway opened out into a large, cavelike chamber, roofed over with massive stone arches and dimly lighted by smoky torches. The center of the chamber was filled with dark, oily-looking water, and a narrow walkway ran around three sides of the pool. Moored to the walkway was a fair-sized barge, painted black and with a dozen dark-cloaked oarsmen on each side.
Velvet stood on the walkway beside the barge. ‘We can only cross two at a time,’ she said to them, her voice echoing hollowly in the vaulted chamber, ‘because of the horses.’