"Truly," Silk agreed.
Kasvor frowned. "I did hear something, though, your Highness," he said. "There's a rumor going around the waterfront that Zandramas' cohort, Naradas, hired a ship for Melcena a few days ago."
"Naradas?"
"Your Highness may never have seen him, but he's fairly easy to pick out of a crowd. He has absolutely white eyes." Kasvor shuddered. "Gruesome-looking fellow. Anyway, he's reputed to have been with Zandramas since the beginning and, as I understand it, he's her right arm. There are some other rumors as well, but I don't think I should repeat them in the presence of the ladies." He looked apologetically at Polgara, Ce'Nedra, and Velvet.
Silk tapped his forefinger thoughtfully on his chin. "So Naradas went to Melcena," he said. "I think I'd like to get a few more details about that."
"I'll circulate some people around the waterfront, your Highness," Kasvor said. "I'm sure we'll be able to find someone who can give us more information."
"Good," Silk said, rising to his feet. "If you find someone, send him to me at the Lion Inn. Tell him that I'll be very generous."
"Of course, your Highness."
Silk hefted the leather pouch at his belt. "I'll need some money," he noted.
"I'll see to it at once, Prince Kheldar."
As they left the building and walked down the polished stone steps toward their horses, Beldin made a disgusted sound. "It's unwholesome," he muttered.
"What is?" Belgarath asked him.
"How lucky you are."
"I don't quite follow you."
"Isn't it remarkable that Kasvor just happened to remember the one thing you really had to know? He threw it out almost as an afterthought."
"The Gods have always been fond of me," Belgarath replied complacently.
"You think of luck as a God? Our Master would put you on bread and water for several centuries if he heard you talking like that."
"It may not have been entirely luck," Durnik said thoughtfully. "This prophecy of ours has nudged people a bit now and then. I remember one time in Arendia when Ce'Nedra was supposed to give a speech. She was so terrified she was almost sick until a drunken young nobleman insulted her. Then she got angry, and her speech set fire to the whole crowd. Pol said that maybe the prophecy had made him get drunk so that he'd insult Ce'Nedra in order to make her angry enough to give the speech.
Couldn't this have been sort of like that? Fate instead of luck?"
Beldin looked at the smith, his eyes suddenly alight. "This man is a jewel, Belgarath," he said. "I've been looking for someone to talk philosophy with for centuries now, and here he is, right under my nose." He put his large, gnarled hand on Durnik's shoulder. "When we get to that inn, my friend," he said, "you and I are going to begin a very long conversation. It might just go on for several centuries."
Polgara sighed.
The Lion Inn was a large building with walls of yellow brick and a red tile roof. A broad stairway led up to an imposing main door attended by a liveried footman. "Where are the stables?" Durnik asked, looking about.
"Probably around back," Silk replied. "Melcene architecture is a bit different from the style in the West."
As they dismounted, two grooms came trotting around the building to take their horses. Silk mounted the stairs, and the footman at the door bowed deeply to him.
"This house is honored by your presence, Prince Kheldar," he said. "My master's waiting inside to greet you."
"Why, thank you, my good man," Silk replied, giving him a coin. "There may be someone along later to see me. It's possible that he'll be a sailor or a longshoreman. When he arrives, would you be so good as to send him to me immediately?"
"Of course, your Highness."
The top floor of the inn was palatial. The rooms were large and deeply carpeted. The walls were covered with white mortar, and the windows were draped with blue velvet. The furnishings were massive and comfortable-looking. The doorways were arched. Durnik wiped his feet carefully before entering. He looked around.
"They seem to be awfully fond of arches," he noted. "I've always preferred post-and-lintel construction myself. For some reason, I just don't quite trust an arch."
"It's perfectly sound, Durnik," Silk assured him.
"I know the theory," Durnik said. "The trouble is that I don't know the man who built the arch, so I don't know if he can be trusted."
"Do you still want to talk philosophy with him?" Belgarath said to Beldin.
"Why not? Solid practicality has a place in the world, too, and sometimes my speculations get a little airy."
"I think the word is windy, Beldin. Windy."
"You didn't really have to say that, did you?"
Belgarath looked at him critically. "Yes," he replied. "I think I did."
Polgara, Ce'Nedra, and Velvet retired to an elaborate bath that was even larger than those in their quarters in the imperial palace at Mal Zeth.
While the ladies were bathing, Silk excused himself. "There are a few other things I need to attend to," he explained. "I won't be very long."
It was after bath time, but before suppertime, when a wiry little fellow in a tar-smeared canvas smock was escorted into the main sitting room. "I was told that there was a Prince Kheldar as was wantin' words with me," he said, looking around.
He spoke in a brogue almost identical to Feldegast's.
"Ah—" Garion floundered, "the prince has stepped out for a moment."
"I surely don't have all day to sit around coolin' me heels, me boy," the little fellow objected. "I've things to do an' people to see, don't y' know."
"I'll handle this, Garion," Durnik said mildly.
"But-"
"It's no problem at all," Durnik said just a bit more firmly. He turned to the little deckhand. "The prince just had a few questions, is all," he said in an almost lazy tone. "It's nothing that you and I can't take care of without bothering his Highness." He laughed. "You know how these highborn people are—excitable."
"Now dial's the truth, surely. There's nothin' like a title t' rob a man of his good sense."
Durnik spread his hands. "What can I say?" he said. "Why don't we sit down and talk a bit? Would you take a spot of ale?"
"I've been known t' take a sup from time t' time." The little fellow grinned. "Yer a man after me own heart, me friend. What trade is it ye follow?"