"Belgarath," Beldin growled, roughly pushing his way past the protesting servant, "is this all the farther you've come? I thought you'd be in Tol Honeth by now."
"We had to stop at Prolgu to see the Gorim," Belgarath replied mildly.
"This isn't a grand tour, you blockhead," Beldin snapped irritably. The little hunchback was as filthy as ever. The wet rags he wore for clothes were tied to his body here and there with lengths of rotten twine. His hair was matted and had twigs and bits of straw clinging to it. His hideous face was as black as a thundercloud as he stumped to the table on his short, gnarled legs and helped himself to a bit of sausage.
"Please try to be civil, uncle," Aunt Pol said.
"Why?" He pointed at a small pot standing on the table. "What's in that?"
"Jam," Delvor replied, looking slightly intimidated.
"Interesting," Beldin said. He dipped one dirty hand into the pot and began feeding gobs of jam into his mouth. "Not bad," he said, licking his fingers.
"There's bread right there, uncle," Aunt Pol said pointedly.
"I don't like bread," he grunted, wiping his hand on his clothes.
"Did you manage to catch up with Harakan?" Belgarath asked him.
Beldin retorted with a number of expletives that made Ce'Nedra's face blanch. "He gave me the slip again. I don't have the time to waste chasing him, so I'll have to forgo the pleasure of splitting him up the middle." He dipped his hand into the jam pot again.
"If we run across him, we'll take care of it for you," Silk offered.
"He's a sorcerer, Kheldar. If you get in his way, he'll hang your guts on a fence."
"I was going to let Garion do it."
Beldin set down the empty jam pot and belched.
"Can I offer you anything else?" Delvor asked him.
"No, thanks all the same, but I'm full now." He turned back to Belgarath. "Were you planning to get as far as Tol Honeth before summer?"
"We're not really that far behind, Beldin," Belgarath protested.
Beldin made an indelicate sound. "Keep your eyes open on the way south," he advised. "There's a Mallorean who's been asking questions about you and the others. He's been hiring people all up and down the Great West Road."
Belgarath looked at him sharply. "Could you get any kind of name?"
"He uses several. The one that crops up most often is Naradas."
"Have you got any idea of what he looks like?" Silk asked.
"About all I've been able to pick up is the fact that he's got funny eyes. From what I've been told, they're all white."
"Well," Delvor said, "well, well, well."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Beldin asked him.
"The man with white eyes is right here in the fair. He's been asking questions here, too."
"That makes it fairly easy, then. Have somebody go run a knife into his back."
Belgarath shook his head. "The legionnaires who police the fair get excited when unexplained bodies start showing up," he said.
Beldin shrugged. "Rap him on the head with something, then drag him a few miles out onto the plain. Cut his throat and dump him in a hole. He probably won't sprout until spring." He looked over at Polgara with a sly grin creasing his ugly face. "If you keep nibbling on that pastry, girl, you're going to spread. You're chubby enough already."
"Chubby?"
"That's all right, Pol. Some men like girls with fat bottoms."
"Why don't you wipe the jam out of your beard, uncle?"
"I'm saving it for lunch." He scratched one armpit.
"Lice again?" she asked coolly.
"It's always possible. I don't mind a few lice, though. They're better company than most people I know."
"Where are you going now?" Belgarath asked him.
"Back to Mallorea. I want to root around in Darshiva for a while and see what I can dig up about Zandramas."
Delvor had been looking at the grimy little man with a speculative squint. "Were you planning to leave immediately, Master Beldin?" he asked.
"Why?"
"I'd like a word with you in private, if you've got a few moments."
"Secrets, Delvor?" Silk asked.
"Not really, old boy. I've got a sort of an idea, but I'd like to get it a bit more developed before I tell you about it." He turned back to the hunchback. "Why don't we take a little stroll, Master Beldin? I have a notion that might appeal to you, and it really won't take very long."
Beldin's look was curious. "All right," he agreed, and the two of them went outside into the drizzling morning.
"What was that all about?" Garion asked Silk.
"It's an irritating habit Delvor picked up at the Academy. He likes to pull off clever ploys without any advance warning. That way he can sit around afterward and bask in everyone's stunned admiration." The little man looked at the table. "I believe I'll have just a bit more of that sausage," he said, "and maybe a few more eggs. It's a long way to Tol Honeth, and I'd like to put in a buffer against all that gruel."
Polgara looked at Ce'Nedra. "Have you ever noticed that when some people find a notion they think is funny, they tend to keep playing with it long past the point where it bores everyone else to tears?"
Ce'Nedra looked at Silk with a sly little twinkle in her eyes. "I've noticed that, Lady Polgara. Do you suppose it might be the result of a limited imagination?"
"I'm sure that has something to do with it, dear." Aunt Polgara looked at Silk with a serene smile. "Now, did you want to play some more, Kheldar?"
"Ah—no, Polgara. I don't really think so."
It was shortly before noon when Delvor and Beldin returned, each with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "It was a truly masterful performance, Master Beldin," Delvor congratulated the little hunchback as they entered.
"Child's play." Beldin shrugged deprecatingly. "People inevitably believe that a deformed body houses a defective brain. I've used that to my advantage many times."
"I'm sure they'll tell us what this is all about eventually," Silk said.
"It wasn't too complicated, Silk," Delvor told him. "You'll be able to leave now without any worries about that curious Mallorean."
"Oh?"
"He was trying to buy information," Delvor shrugged, "so we sold him some, and he left—at a full gallop."