King of the Murgos

  ‘Kahsha?’ Sadi exclaimed. ‘You didn’t say that I’d have to go there.’

  ‘There are many things I didn’t say. Well? Do you agree to go with us to Kahsha?’

  ‘Do I have any choice?’

  ‘No.’

  Sadi spread his arms helplessly.

  —What’s Kahsha?—Garion’s fingers asked Silk.

  —The headquarters of the Dagashi. It’s got an unsavory reputation.—

  ‘All right,’ Tajak said decisively, ‘let’s break down these tents and get ready to leave. It’s many hours to Kahsha, and midafternoon is not a good time to be out in the desert.’

  The sun was well up when they rode out of the mouth of the ravine with Tajak’s Dagashi formed up watchfully around them. Out in the wasteland, the defeated Malloreans had begun their hopeless trek.

  ‘Will they not attempt to use your wells, noble Tajak?’ Sadi asked.

  ‘Probably—but they won’t be able to find them. We cover our wells with piles of rock, and all piles of rock in the desert look the same.’

  There were Murgo troops at the base of the foothills, watching the dispirited retreat of the Malloreans. As Tajak approached them, he made a quick, imperious gesture to them, and they grudgingly stood aside.

  As they rode through a narrow defile that opened out into the desert, Garion took the opportunity to pull his horse in beside Belgarath’s. ‘Grandfather,’ he whispered urgently, ‘what should we do?’

  ‘We wait and see what this is all about,’ the old man replied. ‘Let’s not do anything to give away our disguise—not yet, anyway.’

  As they rode out into the furnace heat of the desert, Sadi looked back at the Murgo soldiers lining the tops of the last low line of hills. ‘Your countrymen are most accommodating,’ he said to Tajak. ‘I’m surprised, though, that they didn’t stop us to ask one or two questions.’

  ‘They know who we are,’ Tajak said shortly, ‘and they know better than to interfere with us.’ He looked at the already-sweating eunuch. ‘It would be wise of you to keep your mouth closed, now, Ussa. The sun draws the moisture out of a man’s body very quickly in this desert, and an open mouth is the first thing it attacks. It’s quite possible to talk yourself to death out here.’

  Sadi gave him a startled look and then clamped his lips tightly together.

  The heat was unbelievable. The desert floor was for the most part a vast, flat bed of reddish-brown gravel, broken only by occasional heaps of dark boulders and widely scattered stretches of gleaming white sand. The world seemed to shimmer and undulate as heat waves rose from the blistering gravel. The sun was like a club beating down on Garion’s head and neck; though he was sweating profusely, the moisture evaporated from his body so quickly that his clothing remained totally dry.

  They rode into that furnace for an hour, and then Tajak signaled for a halt. With a quick gesture, he sent five of his men off across a low rock ridge lying to the northeast. A short while later they returned, carrying lukewarm water in bags made of whole goatskins.

  ‘Water the horses first,’ Tajak said tersely. Then he strode to the base of the ridge, bent, and scooped up a handful of what appeared to be white sand. He came back. ‘Hold out your right hands,’ he said, then spilled perhaps a spoonful into each outstretched palm. ‘Eat it,’ he ordered.

  Sadi cautiously licked at the white stuff in his palm and then immediately spat. ‘Issa!’ he swore. ‘Salt!’

  ‘Eat it all,’ Tajak told him. ‘If you don’t, you’ll die.’

  Sadi stared at him.

  ‘The sun is baking the salt out of your body. Without salt in your blood, you die.’

  They all reluctantly ate the salt. When they had finished, the Dagashi allowed each of them to drink sparingly; then they remounted and rode on into the inferno.

  Ce’Nedra began to droop in her saddle like a wilted flower. The heat seemed to crush her. Garion pulled his horse in beside hers. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked through parched lips.

  ‘No talking!’ a Dagashi snapped.

  The little queen lifted her face and gave Garion a wan smile and then rode on.

  Time lost all meaning in that dreadful place, and even thought became impossible. Garion rode dumbly, his head bent beneath the hammerlike blows of the sun. Hours—or years—later, he raised his head, squinting against the brilliant light around him. He stared stupidly ahead, and only slowly did the realization come to him that what he was seeing was utterly impossible. There, looming in the air before them, floated a vast black island. It hovered above the shimmering, sun-blasted gravel, defying all reason. What manner of sorcery could perform such a feat? How could anyone have that much power?

  But it was not sorcery. As they rode nearer, the undulating heat waves began to thin, dispelling the mirage and revealing the fact that what they approached was not an island in the air, but instead a single rock peak rising precipitously from the desert floor. Encircling it was a narrow trail, hacked out of the solid rock and spiraling upward around the mountain.

  ‘Kahsha,’ Tajak said shortly. ‘Dismount and lead your horses.’

  The trail was very steep. After the second spiral around the mountain the shimmering gravel floor of the desert lay far below. Up and up they went, round and round the blisteringly hot peak. And then the trail went directly into the mountain through a large, square opening.

  ‘More caves?’ Silk whispered bitterly. ‘Why is it always caves?’

  Garion, however, moved eagerly. He would gladly have entered a tomb to get away from the intolerable sun.

  ‘Take the horses,’ Tajak instructed some of his men, ‘and see to them at once. The rest of you, come with me.’ He led them into a long corridor chopped out of the rock itself. Garion groped along blindly until his eyes became adjusted to the dimness. Though by no means cold, the air in the corridor was infinitely cooler than it had been outside. He breathed deeply, straightened, and looked around. The brutal amount of physical labor it had taken to hack this long corridor out of solid rock was clearly evident.

  Sadi, noticing that as well, looked at the grim-faced man striding beside him. ‘I didn’t know that Dagashi were such expert stonecutters,’ he observed.

  ‘We aren’t. The corridor was cut by slaves.’

  ‘I didn’t know that the Dagashi kept slaves.’

  ‘We don’t. Once our fortress was finished, we turned them loose.’

  ‘Out there?’ Sadi’s voice was aghast.

  ‘Most of them preferred to jump off the mountain instead.’

  The corridor ended abruptly in a cavern quite nearly as vast as some Garion had seen in the land of the Ulgos. Here, however, narrow windows high in the wall admitted light. As he looked up, he saw that this was not a natural cave, but rather was a large hollow that had been roofed over with stone slabs supported by vaults and buttresses. On the floor of the cave stood a city of low stone houses, and rising in the center of that city stood a bleak, square fortress.

  ‘The house of Jaharb,’ their guide said shortly. ‘He waits. We must hurry.’

  Silk drew in his breath with a sharp hiss.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Garion whispered.

  ‘We’re going to have to be very careful here,’ Silk murmured. ‘Jaharb is the chief elder of the Dagashi and he has a very nasty reputation.’

  The houses in the city of the Dagashi all had flat roofs and narrow windows. Garion noticed that there was none of the bustle in the streets which one might see in a western city. The black-robed, unsmiling Dagashi went about their business in silence, and each man he saw moving through that strange, half-lit town seemed to carry a kind of vacant space about him, a circle into which none of his fellow townsmen would intrude.

  The fortress of Jaharb was solidly built of huge basalt blocks, and the guards at the heavy front door were formidably armed. Tajak spoke briefly to them, and the door swung open.

  The room to which Tajak took them was large and was illuminated by costly oil lamps, swinging
on chains from the ceiling. The only furnishings were heaps of yellow cushions scattered on the floor and a row of stout, iron-bound chests standing along the rear wall. Seated in the midst of one of the heaps of cushions was an ancient man with white hair and a dark face that was incredibly wrinkled. He wore a yellow robe and he was eating grapes as they entered, carefully selecting them one by one and then languidly raising them to his lips.

  ‘The Nyissan slavers, Revered Elder,’ Tajak announced in tones of profoundest respect.

  Jaharb set aside his bowl of grapes and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at them intently with his smoky, penetrating eyes. There was something infinitely chilling about that steady gaze. ‘How are you called?’ he asked Sadi finally. His voice was as cold as his eyes, very quiet and with a kind of dusty dryness to it.

  ‘I am Ussa, Revered One,’ Sadi replied with a sinuous bow.

  ‘So? And what is your business in the lands of the Murgos?’ The ancient man spoke slowly, drawing out his words almost as if he were singing them.

  ‘The slave trade, Great Elder,’ Sadi answered quickly.

  ‘Buying or selling?’

  ‘A bit of each. The present turmoil offers certain opportunities.’

  ‘I’m sure it does. You are here for gain, then?’

  ‘A reasonable profit is all, Revered Jaharb.’

  The Elder’s expression did not change, but his eyes bored into the face of the suddenly sweating eunuch. ‘You seem uncomfortable, Ussa,’ the dusty voice crooned softly. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘The heat, Revered Jaharb,’ Sadi said nervously. ‘Your desert is very hot.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ The smoky eyes continued their unrelenting gaze. ‘Is it your purpose to enter the lands controlled by the Malloreans?’

  ‘Why, yes,’ Sadi replied, ‘as a matter of fact it is. I am told that many slaves took advantage of the chaos that accompanied the Mallorean invasions to hide themselves in the Forest of Gorut. They are free for the taking, and the fields and vineyards of Hagga and Cthan lie untended for the lack of slaves to work them. There is profit in such a situation.’

  ‘You will have little time for pursuing runaway slaves, Ussa. You must be in Rak Hagga before two months have passed.’

  ‘But—’

  Jaharb held up one hand. ‘You will proceed from this place to Rak Urga, where you are expected. A new servant will join you there. His name is Kabach, and you will find him in the Temple of Torak under the protection of Agachak, the Grolim Hierarch of that place. Agachak and King Urgit will place you and your servants on board a ship which will take you around the southern end of the Urga peninsula to Rak Cthaka. From there you will go directly overland to Rak Hagga. Do you understand all that I have said?’

  ‘Most certainly, Revered Jaharb—and what is it that you want me to do in Rak Hagga?’

  ‘When you reach Rak Hagga, Kabach will leave you, and your task will be complete. Your entire service to me consists of concealing him within your party as you journey to Rak Hagga—a small thing, but your reward will be great.’

  ‘The ship will certainly save me months of difficult travel on horseback, Revered Elder, but will I not have difficulty explaining my presence to the Malloreans if I have no slaves to sell in the mart at Rak Hagga?’

  ‘You will buy slaves in Cthaka or Gorut. The Malloreans will have no reason to question you.’

  ‘Forgive me, Revered Elder,’ Sadi said with a slightly embarrassed cough, ‘but my purse is slender. That’s why my plan was to capture runaway slaves. They cost no more than the effort of running them down.’

  Jaharb did not reply, and his probing eyes remained flat and emotionless. He turned his gaze to Tajak. ‘Open that chest at the end,’ he said.

  Tajak moved quickly to obey. When he lifted the lid of the chest, Garion heard Ce’Nedra gasp involuntarily. The chest was filled to its very brim with bright red-gold coins.

  ‘Take what you need, Ussa,’ Jaharb said indifferently. Then a faintly amused look flickered in his smoldering eyes. ‘But no more than you can hold in both hands.’

  Sadi gaped at the gold-filled chest, his eyes filled with greed and his face and shaven scalp sweating profusely. He looked at the red gold, then down at his own two rather delicately shaped hands. A sudden look of undisguised cunning came over his face. ‘Gold is heavy, most Revered Jaharb, and my hands are quite weak as a result of a recent illness. Might I have one of my servants gather up your most generous payment?’

  ‘That’s not an unreasonable request, Ussa,’ Jaharb replied, his eyes openly amused now. ‘But mind, no more than he can hold in his two hands.’

  ‘Naturally,’ Sadi said. ‘I certainly wouldn’t want you to overpay me.’ He turned. ‘You there,’ he said to Toth, ‘go to that chest and remove a double handful of coins—and be certain that you take no more.’

  Impassively Toth went to the chest and scooped out perhaps a half pailful of the gleaming red coins in his huge hands.

  Jaharb regarded the nervously sweating eunuch for a long moment, his wrinkled face expressionless. Then quite suddenly he threw back his head and laughed a dusty laugh. ‘Excellent, Ussa,’ he crooned softly. ‘Your mind is agile. I like that quality in those who serve me. It may be that you will even live long enough to spend some of the gold you have just so cleverly obtained.’

  ‘It was merely a demonstration of my intelligence, Revered Jaharb,’ Sadi answered quickly, ‘to prove to you that you made no mistake in selecting me. I’ll have him put the coins back if you wish—some of them, anyway.’

  ‘No, Ussa. Keep them all. You will earn every one of them by the time you reach Rak Hagga, I think.’

  ‘I am much honored to be of service to the Dagashi. Even if it were not for your open-handed generosity, I would be no poorer for having befriended you.’ He hesitated, glancing quickly at Belgarath. ‘I have been told, Revered Elder, that the Dagashi know many things.’

  ‘Few secrets are hidden from us in this part of the world.’

  ‘Might I be so bold as to ask a question? A small thing, but one of some interest to me?’

  ‘You may ask, Ussa. I will decide whether or not to answer after I hear the question.’

  ‘I have an extremely wealthy customer in Tol Honeth, Revered Jaharb,’ Sadi said. ‘He has an absolute passion for rare books, and he would pay me a fortune for a copy of the Grolim Prophecies of Rak Cthol. Do you possibly know where I might find such a book?’

  Jaharb frowned slightly, rubbing at his wrinkled cheek. ‘The Dagashi have little interest in books,’ he said. ‘The volume you seek would certainly have been in the library of Ctuchik at Rak Cthol, but I’m sure it was lost when Belgarath the Sorcerer destroyed the city.’ He thought a moment longer. ‘You might ask Agachak when you get to Rak Urga, however. The Temple library there is most extensive; since the prophecies deal with religion, Agachak is certain to have a copy—if one still exists.’

  ‘I am profoundly grateful for the information, Revered Elder,’ Sadi said, bowing again.

  Jaharb straightened. ‘And now you and your servants will need to rest. You depart for Rak Urga at first light tomorrow morning. A room has been prepared for you.’ He turned back to his bowl of grapes.

  The room to which they were taken was quite large. The stone walls had been whitewashed to enhance the dim light which lay over the city of the assassins, but the furnishings were rudimentary at best, consisting only of a low stone table and heaps of cushions.

  As soon as the black-robed Tajak left them alone, Garion pulled off his green slaver’s robe. ‘Grandfather,’ he said, ‘what are we going to do? We can’t go to Rak Urga. If we’re ever going to catch Zandramas, we’re going to have to get to Verkat as soon as we can.’

  The old man sprawled in a pile of cushions. ‘Actually, Garion, things couldn’t have worked out better for us. Once we have the ship that Agachak and Urgit have waiting for us, we can sail directly on to Verkat. That’s going to save us months of dif
ficult travel.’

  ‘But won’t the Dagashi—this Kabach who’s waiting at Rak Urga—object if we don’t land where Jaharb said we were going to?’

  Sadi unlatched his leather case. ‘Set your mind at ease, Belgarion.’ He took out a small vial containing a thick blue liquid and held it up. ‘Two drops of this in his food and he’ll be so happy that he won’t care where we’re going.’

  ‘You’re a very versatile fellow, Sadi,’ Belgarath said. ‘How did you know that I was looking for the Prophecies of the Western Grolims?’

  Sadi shrugged. ‘It wasn’t hard to deduce, Ancient One. A part of the arrangement between Sariss and Naradas involved the burning of the only copy of that book in the palace library at Sthiss Tor. If Zandramas wanted it destroyed, it was fairly obvious that she didn’t want you to get your hands on it.’

  ‘I’m starting to revise my opinion of you, Sadi. I still don’t entirely trust you, but you certainly can be useful when you set your mind to it.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Ancient Belgarath.’ The eunuch took out the small earthenware bottle.

  ‘Are you going to feed that snake?’ Silk asked.

  ‘She does get hungry, Kheldar.’

  ‘I’ll wait outside, then.’

  ‘Tell me, Prince Kheldar,’ Velvet said curiously, ‘what is the source of this peculiar aversion of yours toward reptiles?’

  ‘Most normal people don’t like snakes.’

  ‘Oh, they aren’t that bad.’

  ‘Are you trying to be funny?’

  She opened her brown eyes very wide in an expression of exaggerated innocence. ‘Would I do that?’

  He went out into the hallway muttering to himself.

  Velvet laughed and then went over to join Ce’Nedra on the pile of cushions near the window. Garion had noticed that the two of them had grown quite close during the weeks since they had left Tol Honeth. Because Polgara had always seemed so totally self-sufficient, he had not fully realized the deep-seated need that most women had for the companionship of other women. As Sadi fed his little green snake, the two of them sat side by side on the cushions and brushed the dust of their journey out of their hair.