David Eddings: Demon Lord of Karanda

“You two! Halt!” one of them barked as they came abreast of Garion and Silk.

“Is there some problem, sir?” Silk asked ingratiatingly.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” the man said, his hand on his sword hilt. He was a tall fellow with lank red hair poking out from under his helmet. “Identify yourselves.”

“My name is Saldas,” Silk lied. “This is Kvasta.” He pointed at Garion. “We’re strangers here in Karand.”

“What’s your business here—and where do you come from?”

“We’re from Dorikan in Jenno,” Silk told him, “and we’re here looking for my older brother. He sailed out from the village of Dashun on the other side of the lake awhile back and hasn’t returned.”

The redheaded man looked suspicious.

“We talked with a fellow near the north gate,” Silk continued, “and he told us that there was a boat that sank in a storm just off the docks here.” His face took on a melancholy expression. “The time would have been just about right, I think, and the description he gave us of the boat matched the one my brother was sailing. Have you by any chance heard about it, sir?” The little man sounded very sincere.

Some of the suspicion faded from the red-haired man’s face. “It seems to me that I heard some mention of it,” he conceded.

“The fellow we talked with said that he thought there might have been some survivors,” Silk added, “one that he knew of, anyway. He said that a woman in a dark cloak and carrying a baby managed to get away in a small boat. Do you by chance happen to know anything about that?”

The Karand’s face hardened. “Oh, yes,” he said. “We know about her, all right.”

“Could you by any chance tell me where she went?” Silk asked him. “I’d really like to talk with her and find out if she knows anything about my brother.” He leaned toward the other man confidentially. “To be perfectly honest with you, good sir, I can’t stand my brother. We’ve hated each other since we were children, but I promised my old father that I’d find out what happened to him.” Then he winked outrageously. “There’s an inheritance involved, you understand. If I can take definite word back to father that my brother’s dead, I stand to come into a nice piece of property.”

The red-haired man grinned. “I can understand your situation, Saldas.” he said. “I had a dispute with my own brothers about our patrimony.” His eyes narrowed. “You say you’re from Dorikan ?” he asked.

“Yes. On the banks of the northern River Magan. Do you know our city?”

“Does Dorikan follow the teachings of Lord Mengha?”

“The Liberator? Of course. Doesn’t all of Karanda?”

“Have you seen any of the Dark Lords in the last month or so?”

“The minions of the Lord Nahaz? No, I can’t say that I have—but then Kvasta and I haven’t attended any worship services for some time. I’m sure that the wizards are still raising them, though.”

“I wouldn’t be all that sure, Saldas. We haven’t seen one here in Karand for over five weeks. Our wizards have tried to summon them, but they refuse to come. Even the Grolims who now worship Lord Nahaz haven’t been successful and they’ll all powerful magicians, you know.”

“Truly,” Silk agreed.

“Have you heard anything at all about Lord Mengha’s whereabouts?”

Silk shrugged. “The last I heard, he was in Katakor someplace. In Dorikan we’re just waiting for his return so that we can sweep the Angaraks out of all Karanda.”

The answer seemed to satisfy the tall fellow. “All right, Saldas,” he said. “I’d say that you’ve got a legitimate reason to be in Karand after all. I don’t think you’re going to have much luck in finding the woman you want to talk to, though. From what I’ve heard, she was on your brother’s boat and she did get away before the storm hit. She had a small boat, and she landed to the south of the city. She came to the south gate with her brat in her arms and went straight to the Temple. She talked with the Grolims inside for about an hour. When she left, they were all following her.”

“Which way did they go?” Silk asked him.

“Out the east gate.”

“How long ago was it?”

“Late last week. I’ll tell you something, Saldas. Lord Mengha had better stop whatever he’s doing in Katakor and come back to central Karanda where he belongs. The whole movement is starting to falter. The Dark Lords have deserted us, and the Grolims are trailing after this woman with the baby. All we have left are the wizards, and they’re mostly mad, anyway.”

“They always have been, haven’t they?” Silk grinned. “Tampering with the supernatural tends to unsettle a man’s brains, I’ve noticed.”

“You seem like a sensible man, Saldas,” the redhead said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’d like to stay and talk with you further, but my men and I have to finish our patrol. I hope you find your brother.” He winked slyly. “Or don’t find him, I should say.”

Silk grinned back. “I thank you for your wishes about my brother’s growing ill health,” he replied.

The soldiers moved off along the street. “You tell better stories than Belgarath does,” Garion said to his little friend.

“It’s a gift. That was a very profitable encounter, wasn’t it? Now I understand why the Orb hasn’t picked up the trail yet. We came into the city by way of the north gate, and Zandramas came up from the south. If we go straight to the Temple, the Orb’s likely to jerk you off your feet.”

Garion nodded. “The important thing is that we’re only a few days behind her.” He paused, frowning.

“Why is she gathering Grolims, though?”

“Who knows? Reinforcements maybe. She knows that we’re right behind her. Or, maybe she thinks she’s going to need Grolims who have training in Karandese magic when she gets home to Darshiva. If Nahaz has sent his demons down there, she’s going to need all the help she can get. We’ll let Belgarath sort it out. Let’s go to the Temple and see if we can pick up the trail.”

As they approached the Temple in the center of the city, the Orb began to pull at Garion again, and he felt a surge of exultation. “I’ve got it,” he said to Silk.

“Good.” The little man looked up at the Temple. “I see that they’ve made some modifications,” he observed.

The polished steel mask of the face of Torak which normally occupied the place directly over the nail-studded door had been removed, Garion saw, and in its place was a red-painted skull with a pair of horns screwed down into its brow.

“I don’t know that the skull is all that big an improvement,” Silk said, “but then, it’s no great change for the worse either. I was getting a little tired of that mask staring at me every time I turned around.”

“Let’s follow the trail,” Garion suggested, “and make certain that Zandramas left the city before we go get the others.”

“Right,” Silk agreed.

The trail led from the door of the Temple through the littered streets to the east gate of the city. Garion and Silk followed it out of Karand and perhaps a half mile along the highway leading eastward across the plains of Ganesia.

“Is she veering at all?” Silk asked.

“Not yet. She’s following the road.”

“Good. Let’s go get the others—and our horses. we won’t make very good time on foot.”

They moved away from the road, walking through knee-high grass.

“Looks like good, fertile soil here,” Garion noted. “Have you and Yarblek ever considered buying farmland? It might be a good investment.”

“No, Garion.” Silk laughed. “There’s a major drawback to owning land. If you have to leave a place in a hurry, there’s no way that you can pick it up and carry it along with you.”