Queen Of Sorcery Part 18

"Is he being arrested, friend?" Durnik inquired politely.

"Only temporarily," the pa.s.ser-by said dryly.

"What are they going to do to him?" Durnik asked.

"The usual."

"What's the usual?"

"Watch and see. The fool should have known better than to come out without his bodyguards."

The soldiers had surrounded the man in the green mantle, and two of them took hold of his arms roughly.

"Let me go," Lembor protested. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just come along quietly, Lembor," the scar-faced soldier ordered. "It will be a lot easier that way." They began pulling him toward a narrow alleyway.

"Help!" Lembor shouted, desperately trying to struggle.

One of the soldiers smashed the captive in the mouth with his fist, and they pulled him into the alley. There was a single, short scream and the sounds of a brief scuffle. There were other sounds as well, a few grunts and the grating sound of steel on bone, then a long, sighing moan. A wide rivulet of bright blood trickled out of the mouth of the alley and ran into the gutter. A minute or so later, the soldiers came back out into the square, grinning and wiping their swords.

"We've got to do something," Garion said, sick with outrage and horror.

"No," Silk said bluntly. "What we have to do is mind our own business. We're not here to get involved in local politics."

"Politics?" Garion objected. "That was deliberate murder. Shouldn't we at least see if he's still alive?"

"Not too likely," Barak said. "Six men with swords can usually do a pretty thorough job."

A dozen other soldiers, as shabby-looking as the first group, ran into the square with drawn swords.

"Too late, Rabbas." The scar-faced soldier laughed harshly to the leader of the newcomers. "Lembor doesn't need you anymore. He just came down with a bad case of dead. It looks like you're out of work."

The one called Rabbas stopped, his expression dark. Then a look of brutal cunning spread across his face. "Maybe you're right, Kragger." His voice was also harsh. "But then again we might be able to create a few vacancies in Elgon's garrison. I'm sure he'd be happy to hire good replacements." He began to move forward again, his short sword swinging in a low, dangerous arc.

Then there came the sound of a jingling trot, and twenty legionnaires in a double column came into the square, their feet striking the cobblestones in unison. They carried short lances, and they stopped between the two groups of soldiers. Each column turned to face one group, their lances leveled. The breastplates of the legionnaires were brightly burnished, and their equipment was spotless.

"All right, Rabbas, Kragger, that's enough," the sergeant in charge said sharply. "I want both of you off the street immediately."

"These swine killed Lembor, Sergeant," Rabbas protested.

"That's too bad," the sergeant said without much sympathy. "Now clear the street. There's not going to be any brawling while I'm on duty."

"Aren't you going to do something?" Rabbas demanded.

"I am," the legionnaire said. "I'm clearing the street. Now get out of here."

Sullenly, Rabbas turned and led his men out of the square.

"That goes for you too, Kragger," the sergeant ordered.

"Of course, Sergeant," Kragger said with an oily smirk. "We were just leaving anyway."

A crowd had gathered, and there were several boos as the legionnaires herded the sloppy-looking soldiers out of the square.

The sergeant looked around, his face dangerous, and the boos died immediately.

Durnik hissed sharply. "Over there on the far side of the square," he said to Wolf in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Isn't that Brill?"

"Again?" Wolf's voice held exasperation. "How does he keep getting ahead of us like this?"

"Let's find out what he's up to," Silk suggested, his eyes bright.

"He'd recognize any of us if we tried to follow him," Barak warned.

"Leave that to me," Silk said, sliding out of his saddle.

"Did he see us?" Garion asked.

"I don't think so," Durnik said. "He's talking to those men over there. He isn't looking this way."

"There's an inn near the south end of town," Silk said quickly, pulling off his vest and tying it to his saddle. "I'll meet you there in an hour or so." Then the little man turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"Get down off your horses," Mister Wolf ordered tersely. "We'll lead them."

They all dismounted and led their mounts slowly around the edge of the square, staying close to the buildings and keeping the animals between them and Brill as much as possible.

Garion glanced once up the narrow alleyway where Kragger and his men had dragged the protesting Lembor. He shuddered and looked away quickly. A green-mantled heap lay in a grimy corner, and there was blood splashed thickly on the walls and the filthy cobblestones in the alley.

After they had moved out of the square, they found the entire town seething with excitement and in some cases consternation. "Lembor, you say?" an ashen-faced merchant in a blue mantle exclaimed to another shaken man. "Impossible."

"My brother just talked to a man who was there," the second merchant said. "Forty of Elgon's soldiers attacked him in the street and cut him down right in front of the crowd."

"What's going to happen to us?" the first man asked in a shaking voice.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to hide. Now that Lembor's dead, Elgon's soldiers are probably going to try to kill us all."

"They wouldn't dare."

"Who's going to stop them? I'm going home."

"Why did we listen to Lembor?" the first merchant wailed. "We could have stayed out of the whole business."

"It's too late now," the second man said. "I'm going to go home and bar my doors." He turned and scurried away.

The first man stared after him and then he too turned and fled.

"They play for keeps, don't they?" Barak observed.

"Why do the legions allow it?" Mandorallen asked.

"The legions stay neutral in these affairs," Wolf said. "It's part of their oath."

The inn to which Silk had directed them was a neat, square building surrounded by a low wall. They tied their horses in the courtyard and went inside. "We might as well eat, father," Aunt Pol said, seating herself at a table of well-scrubbed oak in the sunny common room.

"I was just- " Wolf looked toward the door which led into the taproom.

"I know," she said, "but I think we should eat first."

Wolf sighed. "All right, Pol."

The serving-man brought them a platter of smoking cutlets and heavy slabs of brown bread soaked in b.u.t.ter. Garion's stomach was still a bit shaky after what he had witnessed in the square, but the smell of the cutlets soon overcame that. They had nearly finished eating when a shabby-looking little man in a linen shirt, leather ap.r.o.n and a ragged hat came in and plunked himself unceremoniously at the end of their table. His face looked vaguely familiar somehow. "Wine!" he bawled at the serving-man, "and food." He squinted around in the golden light streaming through the yellow gla.s.s windows of the common room.

"There are other tables, friend," Mandorallen said coldly.

"I like this one," the stranger said. He peered at each of them in turn, and then he suddenly laughed. Garion stared in amazement as the man's face relaxed, the muscles seeming to shift under his skin back into their normal positions. It was Silk.

"How did you do that?" Barak asked, startled.

Silk grinned at him and then reached up to ma.s.sage his cheeks with his fingertips. "Concentration, Barak. Concentration and lots of practice. It makes my jaws ache a bit, though."

"Useful skill, I'd imagine - under the right circ.u.mstances," Hettar said blandly.

"Particularly for a spy," Barak said.

Silk bowed mockingly.

"Where did you get the clothes?" Durnik asked, "Stole them." Silk shrugged, peeling off the ap.r.o.n.

"What's Brill doing here?" Wolf asked.

"Stirring up trouble, the same as always," Silk replied. "He's telling people that a Murgo named Asharak is offering a reward for any information about us. He describes you quite well, old friend - not very flatteringly, but quite well."

"I expect we'll have to deal with this Asharak before long," Aunt Pol said. "He's beginning to irritate me."

"There's another thing." Silk started on one of the cutlets. "Brill's telling everyone that Garion is Asharak's son - that we've stolen him and that Asharak's offering a huge reward for his return."

"Garion?" Aunt Pol asked sharply.

Silk nodded. "The kind of money he's talking about is bound to make everyone in Tolnedra keep his eyes open." He reached for a piece of bread.

Garion felt a sharp pang of anxiety.

"Why me?" he asked.

"It would delay us," Wolf said. "Asharak-whoever he is - knows that Polgara would stop to look for you. So would the rest of us, most likely. That would give Zedar time to get away."

"Just who is Asharak?" Hettar asked, his eyes narrowing.

"A Grolim, I expect," Wolf said. "His operations are a little too widespread for him to be an ordinary Murgo."

"How can one tell the difference?" Durnik asked.

"You can't," Wolf answered. "They look very much the same. They're two separate tribes, but they're much more closely related to each other than they are to other Angaraks. Anyone can tell the difference between a Nadrak and a Thull or a Thull and a Mallorean, but Murgos and Grolims are so much alike that you can't tell them apart."

"I've never had any problem," Aunt Pol said. "Their minds are quite different."

"That will make it much easier," Barak commented dryly. "We'll just chop open the head of the next Murgo we meet, and you can point out the differences to us."

"You've been spending too much time with Silk lately," Aunt Pol said acidly. "You're starting to talk like him."

Barak looked over at Silk and winked.

"Let's finish up here and see if we can't get out of town quietly," Wolf said. "Is there a back alley out of this place?" he asked Silk.

"Naturally," Silk said, still eating.

"Are you familiar with it?"

"Please!" Silk looked a little offended. "Of course I'm familiar with it.

"Let it pa.s.s," Wolf said.

The alleyway Silk led them through was narrow, deserted, and smelled quite bad, but it brought them to the town's south gate, and they were soon on the highway again.

"A little distance wouldn't hurt at this point," Wolf said. He thumped his heels to his horse's flanks and started off at a gallop. They rode until well after dark. The moon, looking swollen and unhealthy, rose slowly above the horizon and filled the night with a pale light that seemed to leech away all trace of color. Wolf finally pulled to a stop. "There's really no point in riding all night," he said. "Let's move off the road and get a few hours' sleep. We'll start out again early. I'd like to stay ahead of Brill this time if we can."

"Over there?" Durnik suggested, pointing at a small copse of trees looming black in the moonlight not far from the road.

"It will do," Wolf decided. "I don't think we'll need a fire." They led the horses in among the trees and pulled their blankets out of the packs. The moonlight filtered in among the trees and dappled the leaf strewn ground. Garion found a fairly level place with his feet, rolled up in his blankets and, after squirming around a bit, he fell asleep.

He awoke suddenly, his eyes dazzled by the light of a half dozen torches. A heavy foot was pushed down on his chest, and the point of a sword was set firmly, uncomfortably against his throat.

"n.o.body move!" a harsh voice ordered. "We'll kill anybody who moves."

Garion stiffened in panic, and the sword point at his throat dug in sharply. He rolled his head from side to side and saw that all of his friends were being held down in the same way he was. Durnik, who had been standing guard, was held by two rough-looking soldiers, and a piece of rag was stuffed in his mouth.

"What does this mean?" Silk demanded of the soldiers.

"You'll find out," the one in charge rasped. "Get their weapons." As he gestured, Garion saw that a finger was missing from his right hand.

"There's a mistake here," Silk said. "I'm Radek of Boktor, a merchant, and my friends and I haven't done anything wrong."

"Get on your feet," the three-fingered soldier ordered, ignoring the little man's objections. "If any one of you tries to get away, we'll kill all the rest."

Silk rose and crammed on his cap. "You're going to regret this, Captain," he said. "I've got powerful friends here in Tolnedra."

The soldier shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything to me," he said. "I take my orders from Count Dravor. He told me to bring you in."