Part 19 (1/2)

”All right,” Silk said. ”Let's go see this Count Dravor, then. We'll get this cleared up right now, and there's no need for waving your swords around. We'll come along quietly. None of us is going to do anything to get you excited.”

The three-fingered soldier's face darkened in the torchlight. ”I don't like your tone, merchant.”

”You're not being paid to like my tone, friend,” Silk said. ”You're being paid to escort us to Count Dravor. Now suppose we get moving. The quicker we get there, the quicker I can give him a full report about your behavior.”

”Get their horses,” the soldier growled.

Garion had edged over to Aunt Pol.

”Can't you do anything?” he asked her quietly.

”No talking!” the soldier who had captured him barked.

Garion stood helplessly, staring at the sword leveled at his chest.

Chapter Fourteen.

THE HOUSE OF Count Dravor was a large white building set in the center of a broad lawn with clipped hedges and formal gardens on either side. The moon, fully overhead now, illuminated every detail as they rode slowly up a white-graveled, curving road that led to the house.

The soldiers ordered them to dismount in the courtyard between the house and the garden on the west side of the house, and they were hustled inside and down a long hallway to a heavy, polished door.

Count Dravor was a thin, vague-looking man with deep pouches under his eyes, and he sprawled in a chair in the center of a richly furnished room. He looked up with a pleasant, almost dreamy smile on his face as they entered. His mantle was a pale rose color with silver trim at the hem and around the sleeves to indicate his rank. It was badly wrinkled and none too clean. ”And who are these guests?” he asked, his voice slurred and barely audible.

”The prisoners, my Lord,” the three-fingered soldier explained. ”The ones you ordered arrested.”

”Did I order someone arrested?” the count asked, his voice still slurred. ”What a remarkable thing for me to do. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you, my friends.”

”We were a bit surprised, that's all,” Silk said carefully.

”I wonder why I did that.” The count pondered. ”I must have had a reason - I never do anything without a reason. What have you done wrong?”

”We haven't done anything wrong, my Lord,” Silk a.s.sured him.

”Then why would I have you arrested? There must be some sort of mistake.”

”That's what we thought, my Lord,” Silk said.

”Well, I'm glad that's all cleared up,” the count said happily. ”May I offer you some dinner, perhaps?”

”We've already eaten, my Lord.”

”Oh.” The count's face fell with disappointment. ”I have so few visitors.”

”Perhaps your steward Y'diss may remember the reason these people were detained, my Lord,” the three-fingered soldier suggested.

”Of course,” the count said. ”Why didn't I think of that? Y'diss remembers everything. Please send for him at once.”

”Yes, my Lord.” The soldier bowed and jerked his head curtly at one of his men.

Count Dravor dreamily began playing with one of the folds of his mantle, humming tunelessly as they waited.

After a few moments a door at the end of the room opened, and a man in an iridescent and intricately embroidered robe entered. His face was grossly sensual, and his head was shaved. ”You sent for me, my Lord?” His rasping voice was almost a hiss.

”Ah, Y'diss,” Count Dravor said happily, ”how good of you to join us.”

”It's my pleasure to serve you, my Lord,” the steward said with a sinuous bow.

”I was wondering why I asked these friends to stop by,” the count said. ”I seem to have forgotten. Do you by any chance recall?”

”It's just a small matter, my Lord,” Y'diss answered. ”I can easily handle it for you. You need your rest. You mustn't overtire yourself, you know.”

The count pa.s.sed a hand across his face. ”Now that you mention it, I do feel a bit fatigued, Y'diss. Perhaps you could entertain our guests while I rest a bit.”

”Of course, my Lord,” Y'diss said with another bow.

The count s.h.i.+fted around in his chair and almost immediately fell asleep.

”The count is in delicate health,” Y'diss said with an oily smile. ”He seldom leaves that chair these days. Let's move away a bit so that we don't disturb him.”

”I'm only a Drasnian merchant, your Eminence,” Silk said, ”and these are my servants - except for my sister there. We're baffled by all of this.”

Y'diss laughed. ”Why do you persist in this absurd fiction, Prince Kheldar? I know who you are. I know you all, and I know your mission.”

”What's your interest in us, Nyissan?” Mister Wolf asked bluntly.

”I serve my mistress, Eternal Salmissra,” Y'diss said.

”Has the Snake Woman become the p.a.w.n of the Grolims, then?” Aunt Pol asked, ”or does she bow to the will of Zedar?”

”My queen bows to no man, Polgara,” Y'diss denied scornfully.

”Really?” She raised one eyebrow. ”It's curious to find her servant dancing to a Grolim tune.”

”I have no dealings with the Grolims,” Y'diss said. ”They're scouring all Tolnedra for you, but I'm the one who found you.”

”Finding isn't keeping, Y'diss,” Mister Wolf stated quietly. ”Suppose you tell us what this is all about.”

”I'll tell you only what I feel like telling you, Belgarath.”

”I think that's about enough, father,” Aunt Pol said. ”We really don't have time for Nyissan riddle games, do we?”

”Don't do it, Polgara,” Y'diss warned. ”I know all about your power. My soldiers will kill your friends if you so much as raise your hand.” Garion felt himself roughly grabbed from behind, and a sword blade was pressed firmly against his throat.

Aunt Pol's eyes blazed suddenly. ”You're walking on dangerous ground!”

”I don't think we need to exchange threats,” Mister Wolf said. ”I gather, then, that you don't intend to turn us over to the Grolims?”