Belgarath crossed the clearing to the eunuch's side.
"Doesn't that purple lining on the inside of his hood mean that he's a Grolim?" Sadi asked.
Belgarath nodded bleakly. He bent and lightly touched the hilt of Silk's dagger that still protruded from the robed man's stomach. "He doesn't have much time left," he said. "Can you get him conscious enough to answer a few questions?"
"I can try," Sadi told him. He went to his horse and took a vial of yellow liquid from his red case. "Could you get me a cup of water, Goodman?" he asked Durnik.
The smith's face was disapproving, but he fetched a tin cup from one of the packs and filled it from one of their water bags.
Sadi carefully measured a few drops of the yellow liquid into the cup, then swirled it around a few times. He knelt beside the dying man and almost tenderly lifted his head. "Here," he said gently, "drink this. It might make you feel better." He supported the Grolim's head on his arm and held the cup to his lips. Weakly, the stricken man drank, then lay back. After a moment, a serene smile came to his ashen face.
"There, isn't that better?"
"Much better," the dying man croaked.
"That was quite a skirmish, wasn't it?"
"We thought to surprise you," the Grolim admitted, "but we were the ones who got the surprise."
"Your Master—what was his name again? I'm terrible at names."
"Morgat," the Grolim supplied with a bemused look on his face, "Hierarch of Rak Cthan."
"Oh, yes, now I remember. Anyway, Morgat should have given you more men to help you."
"I hired the men myself—at Rak Cthaka. They told me that they were professionals, but—" He began to cough weakly.
"Don't tire yourself," Sadi said. He paused. "What's Morgat's interest in us?" he asked.
"He's acting on the instructions of Agachak," the Grolim replied, his voice little more than a whisper. "Agachak is not one to take chances, and some very serious accusations were made back at Rak Urga, I understand. Agachak has ordered that every Grolim priest of the purple seek you out."
Sadi sighed. "It's more or less what I'd expected," he said mournfully. "People always seem to distrust me. Tell me, how did you ever manage to find us?"
"It was Cthrag Yaska," the Grolim replied, his breathing growing even more labored. "Its accursed song rings across Cthol Murgos like a beacon, drawing every Grolim of the purple directly to you." The dying man drew in a deep breath, and his unfocused eyes suddenly became alert. "What was in that cup?" he demanded sharply. He pushed Sadi's arm away and tried to rise to a sitting position. A great gush of blood spurted from his mouth, and his eyes went blank. He shuddered once with a long, gurgling groan. Then he fell limply back.
"Dead," Sadi noted clinically. "That's the problem with oret. It's a little hard on the heart, and this fellow wasn't in very good shape to begin with. I'm sorry, Belgarath, but it was the best I could do."
"It was enough, Sadi," the old man replied bleakly. "Come with me, Garion," he said. "Let's go someplace quiet. You and I are going to have to have a long talk with the Orb."
"Do you suppose that you could hold off on that, Belgarath?" Sadi asked, looking around nervously. "I think we want to get as far away from here as we can—almost immediately."
"I hardly expect those fellows to come back, Sadi," Silk drawled.
"That's not what concerns me, Kheldar. It's not prudent to remain in the vicinity of so many dead bodies in this forest, and we've lingered much too long already."
"Would you like to explain that?" Garion asked.
"Do you remember the warning the Sendar on the road gave to you and Kheldar?"
"About something he called the Raveners, you mean?"
"Yes. How much did he tell you?"
"He said that they're ghouls—creatures that feed on the dead. But that's just a ghost story, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid not. I've heard the story from people who've actually seen them. We definitely want to get away from here. Most of the people who live in this forest—or near it— don't bury their dead. They burn them instead."
"I've never cared much for that idea," Durnik said.
"It has nothing to do with respect, Goodman—or the lack of it. It's done to protect the living."
"All right," Silk said. "What are these ghouls supposed to look like? There are a lot of animals around that try to dig up dead bodies."
"The Raveners aren't animals, Kheldar. They're men— or at least that's what they look like. Normally, they're quite torpid and only come out at night, but during a war or a pestilence, when there are a large number of bodies unburied, they go into a kind of frenzy. The smell of death attracts them and makes them wild. They'll attack anything when they're like that.
Father," Polgara said, "is this true?"
"It's possible," he admitted. "I've heard some unpleasant things about these woods myself. I don't usually pursue ghost stories, so I didn't bother to investigate."
"Every country has its stories of ogres and monsters," Silk said skeptically. "Only children are frightened by them."
"I'll strike a bargain with you, Kheldar," Sadi said. "If we make it through these woods without seeing any Raveners, you can laugh at my timidity if you like, but for the sake of the ladies, let's get away from here."
Belgarath was frowning. "I don't altogether accept the notion of ghouls," he said, "but then, I didn't believe there was such a thing as an Eldrak either—until I saw one. We want to move along anyway, and Garion and I can talk with the Orb later."
With Toth once more in the lead, they rode away at a gallop, still following the scarcely visible track that angled off toward the southeast. Their horses' hooves tossed up clots of the leaves lying thick-spread on the forest floor as they plunged through the misty wood. The misshapen trees seemed to gape at them as they pounded past, and, though Garion knew it was only his imagination, those grotesque, almost human features seemed somehow to have taken on expressions of malicious glee.
"Wait!" Silk barked suddenly. "Stop!"
They all reined in.
"I thought I heard something—off that way," Silk said.
They all sat straining their ears, trying to listen over the heavy panting of their horses.