the belgariad pawn of prophecy 26

"We spoke at great length, Garion," Silk said. "Weren't you watching?"

"All I saw was the two of you wiggling your fingers at each other."

"That's how we spoke," Silk explained. "It's a separate language my

countrymen devised thousands of years ago. It's called the secret

language, and it's much faster than the spoken one. It also permits us

to speak in the presence of strangers without being overheard. An adept

can conduct business while discussing the weather, if he chooses."

"Will you teach it to me?" Garion asked, fascinated.

"It takes a long time to learn," Silk told him.

"Isn't the trip to Muros likely to take a long time?" Garion suggested.

Silk shrugged. "As you wish," he said. "It won't be easy, but it will help pass the time, I suppose."

"Are we going back to the inn now?" Garion asked.

"Not right away," Silk said. "We'll need a cargo to explain our entry into Muros."

"I thought we were going to leave with the wagons empty."

"We are."

"But you just said-"

"We'll see a merchant I know," Silk explained. "He buys farm goods

all over Sendaria and has them held on the farms until the markets are

right in Arendia and Tolnedra. Then he arranges to have them freighted

either to Muros or Camaar."

"It sounds very complicated," Garion said doubtfully.

"It's not really," Silk assured him. "Come along, my boy, you'll

see." The merchant was a Tolnedran who wore a flowing blue robe and a

disdainful expression on his face. He was talking with a grim-faced

Murgo as Silk and Garion entered his counting room. The Murgo, like all

of his race Garion had ever seen, had deep scars on his face, and his

black eyes were penetrating.

Silk touched Garion's shoulder with a cautionary hand when they

entered and saw the Murgo, then he stepped forward. "Forgive me, noble

merchant," he said ingratiatingly. "I didn't know you were occupied. My

porter and I will wait outside until you have time for us."

"My friend and I will be busy for most of the day," the Tolnedran said. "Is it something important?"

"I was just wondering if you might have a cargo for me," Silk replied.

"No," the Tolnedran said shortly. "Nothing." He started to turn back

to the Murgo, then stopped and looked sharply at Silk. "Aren't you Ambar

of Kotu?" he asked. "I thought you dealt in spices."

Garion recognized the name Silk had given the watchmen at the gates

of the city. It was evident that the little man had used the name

before.

"Alas," Silk sighed. "My last venture lies at the bottom of the sea

just off the hook of Arendia - two full shiploads bound for Tol Honeth. A

sudden storm and I am a pauper."

"A tragic tale, worthy Ambar," the Tolnedran master merchant said, somewhat smugly.

"I'm now reduced to freighting produce," Silk said morosely. "I have

three rickety wagons, and that's all that's left of the empire of Ambar

of Kotu."

"Reverses come to us all," the Tolnedran said philosophically.

"So this is the famous Ambar of Kotu," the Murgo said, his harshly

accented voice quite soft. He looked Silk up and down, his black eyes

probing. "It was a fortunate chance that brought me out today. I am

enriched by meeting so illustrious a man."

Silk bowed politely. "You're too kind, noble sir," he said.

"I am Asharak of Rak Goska," the Murgo introduced himself. He turned

to the Tolnedran. "We can put aside our discussion for a bit, Mingan,"

he said. "We will accrue much honor by assisting so great a merchant to

begin recouping his losses."

"You're too kind, worthy Asharak," Silk said, bowing again. Garion's

mind was shrieking all kinds of warnings, but the Murgo's sharp eyes

made it impossible for him to make the slightest gesture to Silk. He

kept his face impassive and his eyes dull even as his thoughts raced.

"I would gladly help you, my friend," Mingan said, "but I have no cargo in Darine at the moment."

"I'm already committed from Darine to Medalia," Silk said quickly.

"Three wagonloads of Cherek iron. And I also have a contract to move

furs from Muros to Camaar. It's the fifty leagues from Medalia to Muros

that concerns me. Wagons traveling empty earn no profit."

"Medalia." Mingan frowned. "Let me examine my records. It seems to me

that I do have something there." He stepped out of the room. "Your

exploits are legendary in the kingdoms of the east, Ambar,"

Asharak of Rak Goska said admiringly. "When last I left Cthol Murgos there was still a kingly price on your head."

Silk laughed easily. "A minor misunderstanding, Asharak," he said. "I

was merely investigating the extent of Tolnedran intelligence gathering

activities in your kingdom. I took some chances I probably shouldn't

have, and the Tolnedrans found out what I was up to. The charges they

leveled at me were fabrications."

"How did you manage to escape?" Asharak asked. "The soldiers of King

Taur Urgas nearly dismantled the kingdom searching for you."

"I chanced to meet a Thullish lady of high station," Silk said. "I

managed to prevail upon her to smuggle me across the border into Mishrak

ac Thull."

"Ah," Asharak said, smiling briefly. "Thullish ladies are notoriously easy to prevail upon."

"But most demanding," Silk said. "They expect full repayment for any

favors. I found it more difficult to escape from her than I did from

Cthol Murgos."

"Do you still perform such services for your government?" Asharak asked casually.

"They won't even talk to me," Silk said with a gloomy expression.

"Ambar the spice merchant is useful to them, but Ambar the poor wagoneer

is quite another thing."

"Of course," Asharak said, and his tone indicated that he obviously

did not believe what he had been told. He glanced briefly and without

seeming interest at Garion, and Garion felt a strange shock of

recognition. Without knowing exactly how it was that he knew, he was

instantly sure that Asharak of Rak Goska had known him for all of his

life. There was a familiarity in that glance, a familiarity that had

grown out of the dozen times or more that their eyes had met while

Garion was growing up and Asharak, muffled always in a black cloak and

astride a black horse, had stopped and watched and then moved on. Garion

returned the gaze without expression, and the faintest hint of a smile

flickered across Asharak's scarred face.