Demon Lord of Karanda

Garion asked Polgara.
    "Possibly," she replied. "But even that faint a sound could be heard."
    "We're close enough now that we can wait," Belgarath said. "I'll tell you one thing, though," he added. "If my great-grandson is at Ashaba, I'll take the place apart stone by stone until I find him and I don't care how much noise it wakes."
    Impulsively, Ce'Nedra pulled her horse in beside his, leaned over, and locked her arms about his waist. "Oh, Belgarath," she said, "I love you." And she burrowed her face into his shoulder.
    "What's this?" His voice was slightly surprised.
    She pulled back, her eyes misty. She wiped at them with the back of her hand, then gave him an arch look.
    "You're the dearest man in all the world," she told him. "I might even consider throwing Garion over for you," she added, "if it weren't for the fact that you're twelve thousand years old, that is."
    "Seven," he corrected automatically.
    She gave him a sadly whimsical smile, a melancholy sign of her final victory in an ongoing contest that no longer had any meaning for her. "Whatever," she sighed.
    And then in a peculiarly uncharacteristic gesture, he enfolded her in his arms and gently kissed her. "My dear child," he said with brimming eyes. Then he looked back over his shoulder at Polgara. "How did we ever get along without her?" he asked.
    Polgara's eyes were a mystery. "I don't know, father," she replied. "I really don't."
    At the head of the ravine, Sadi dismounted and dusted the leaves of a low bush growing in the middle of the track they were following with some more of his powder.
    "Just to be on the safe side," he explained, pulling himself back into his saddle.
    The region they entered under a lowering sky was a wooded plateau, and they rode on along the scarcely visible track in a generally northerly direction with the rising wind whipping at their cloaks. The baying of Torak's Hounds still sounded from some distance off, but seemed to be coming no closer.
    As before, Silk and Feldegast raged out ahead, scouting for possible dangers. Garion again rode at the head of their column, his helmet in place and the butt of his lance riding in his stirrup. As he rounded a sharp bend in the track, he saw Silk and the juggler ahead. They had dismounted and were crouched behind some bushes. Silk turned quickly and motioned Garion back. Garion quickly passed on that signal and, step by step, backed his gray stallion around the bend again. He dismounted, leaned his lance against a tree, and took off his helmet.
    "What is it?" Belgarath asked, also swinging down from his horse.
    "I don't know," Garion replied, "Silk motioned us to stay out of sight."
    "Let's go have a look," the old man said.
    "Right."
    The two of them crouched over and moved forward on feet to join the rat-faced man and the juggler. Silk his finger to his lips as they approached. When Garion reached the brush, he carefully parted the leaves and looked out.
    There was a road there, a road that intersected the track they had been following. Riding along that road were half-a-hundred men dressed mostly in furs, with rusty helmets on their heads and bent and dented swords in their hands. The men at the head of the column, however, wore mail coats. Their helmets were polished, and they carried lances and shields.
    Tensely, without speaking, Garion and his friends watched the loosely organized mob ride past.
    When the strangers were out of sight, Feldegast turned to Belgarath. "It sort of confirms yer suspicion, old friend," he said.
    "Who were they?" Garion asked in a low voice.
    "The ones in fur be Karands," Feldegast replied, "an' the ones in steel be Temple Guardsmen. 'Tis more evidence of an alliance between Urvon and Mengha, y' see."
    "Can we be sure that the Karands were Mengha's men?"
    "He's overcome Katakor altogether, an' the only armed Karands in the area be his. Urvon an' his Chandim control the Guardsmen -an' the Hounds. When ye see Karands an' Hounds together the way we did yesterday, it's fair proof of an alliance, but when ye see Karandese fanatics escorted by armed Guardsmen, it doesn't leave hardly any doubt at all."
    "What is that fool up to?" Belgarath muttered.
    "Who?" Silk asked.
    "Urvon. He's done some fairly filthy things in his life, but he's never consorted with demons before."
    "Perhaps 'twas because Torak had forbid it," Feldegast suggested. "Now that Torak's dead, though, maybe he's throwin' off all restraints. The demons would be a powerful factor if the