the belgariad pawn of prophecy 23

"Everything is idiocy if you choose to look at it in the proper light," he replied philosophically.

"Why wagoneers?" she demanded. "There are faster ways to travels

wealthy family in a proper carriage, for instance, or Imperial

messengers on good horses - either way would have put us in Darine by

now."

"And left a trail in the memories of all these simple people we've

passed so wide that even a Thull could follow it," Wolf explained

patiently. "Brill has long since reported our departure to his

employers. Every Murgo in Sendaria is looking for us by now."

"Why are we hiding from the Murgos, Mister Wolf?" Garion asked,

hesitant to interrupt, but impelled by curiosity to try to penetrate the

mystery behind their flight. "Aren't they just merchants-like the

Tolnedrans and the Drasnians?"

"The Murgos have no real interest in trade," Wolf explained. "Nadraks

are merchants, but the Murgos are warriors. The Murgos pose as

merchants for the same reason that we pose as wagoneers - so that they

can move about more or less undetected. If you simply assumed that all

Murgos are spies, you wouldn't be too far from the truth."

"Haven't you anything better to do than ask all these questions?" Aunt Pol asked.

"Not really," Garion said, and then instantly knew that he'd made a mistake.

"Good," she said. "In the back of Barak's wagon you'll find the dirty

dishes from this morning's meal. You'll also find a bucket. Fetch the

bucket and run to that stream ahead for water, then return to Barak's

wagon and wash the dishes."

"In cold water?" he objected.

"Now, Garion," she said firmly.

Grumbling, he climbed down off the slowly moving wagon.

In the late afternoon of the fourth day they came over a high hilltop

and saw below the city of Darine and beyond the city the leaden gray

sea.

Garion caught his breath. To his eyes the city looked very large. Its

surrounding walls were thick and high, and there were more buildings

within those walls than he had seen in all his life. But it was to the

sea that his eyes were drawn. There was a sharp tang to the air. Faint

hints of that smell had been coming to him on the wind for the past

league or so, but now, inhaling deeply, he breathed in that perfume of

the sea for the first time in his life. His spirit soared.

"Finally," Aunt Pol said.

Silk had stopped the lead wagon and came walking back. His hood was

pulled back slightly, and the rain ran down his long nose to drip from

its pointed tip.

"Do we stop here or go on down to the city?" he asked.

"We go to the city," Aunt Pol said. "I'm not going to sleep under a wagon when there are inns so close at hand."

"Honest wagoneers would seek out an inn," Mister Wolf agreed, "and a warm taproom."

"I might have guessed that," Aunt Pol said.

"We have to try to look the part." Wolf shrugged.

They went on down the hill, the horses' hooves slipping and sliding as they braced back against the weight of the wagons.

At the city gate two watchmen in stained tunics and wearing

rustspotted helmets came out of the tiny watch house just inside the

gate.

"What's your business in Darine?" one of them asked Silk.

"I am Ambar of Kotu," Silk lied pleasantly, "a poor Drasnian merchant hoping to do business in your splendid city."

"Splendid?" one of the watchmen snorted.

"What have you in your wagons, merchant?" the other inquired.

"Turnips," Silk said deprecatingly. "My family has been in the spice

trade for generations, but I'm reduced to peddling turnips." He sighed.

"The world is a topsy-turvy place, is it not, good friend?"

"We're obliged to inspect your wagons," the watchman said. "It'll take some time, I'm afraid."

"And a wet time at that," Silk said, squinting up into the rain. "It

would be much more pleasant to devote the time to wetting one's inside

in some friendly tavern."

"That's difficult when one doesn't have much money," the watchman suggested hopefully.

"I'd be more than pleased if you'd accept some small token of friendship from me to aid you in your wetting," Silk offered.

"You're most kind," the watchman replied with a slight bow.

Some coins changed hands, and the wagons moved on into the city uninspected.

From the hilltop Darine had looked quite splendid, but Garion found

it much less so as they clattered through the wet streets. The buildings

all seemed the same with a kind of self important aloofness about them,

and the streets were littered and dirty. The salt tang of the sea was

tainted here with the smell of dead fish, and the faces of the people

hurrying along were grim and unfriendly. Garion's first excitement began

to fade.

"Why are the people all so unhappy?" he asked Mister Wolf.

"They have a stern and demanding God," Wolf replied.

"Which God is that?" Garion asked.

"Money," Wolf said. "Money is a worse God than Torak himself."

"Don't fill the boy's head with nonsense," Aunt Pol said. "The people

aren't really unhappy, Garion. They're just all in a hurry. They have

important affairs to attend to and they're afraid they'll be late.

That's all."

"I don't think I'd like to live here," Garion said. "It seems like a

bleak, unfriendly kind of place." He sighed. "Sometimes I wish we were

all back at Faldor's farm."

"There are worse places than Faldor's," Wolf agreed.

The inn Silk chose for them was near the docks, and the smell of the

sea and the rank detritus of the meeting of sea and land was strong

there. The inn, however, was a stout building with stables attached and

storage sheds for the wagons. Like most inns, the main floor was given

over to the kitchen and the large common room with its rows of tables

and large fireplaces. The upper floors provided sleeping chambers for

the guests.

"It's a suitable place," Silk announced as he came back out to the

wagons after speaking at some length with the innkeeper. "The kitchen

seems clean, and I saw no bugs when I inspected the sleeping chambers."

"I will inspect it," Aunt Pol said, climbing down from the wagon.

"As you wish, great lady," Silk said with a polite bow.

Aunt Pol's inspection took much longer than Silk's, and it was nearly

dark when she returned to the courtyard. "Adequate," she sniffed, "but

only barely."

"It's not as if we planned to settle in for the winter, Pol," Wolf said. "At most we'll only be here a few days."