Demon Lord of Karanda

large, heavy flakes that piled up on the lines and rigging, turning the tarred ropes into thick, white cables. The sea was black, and the swells rose and fell without sound. From the stem came the slow, measured beat of a muffled drum that set the stroke for the Mallorean oarsmen. The sifting flakes settled on the shoulders of the sailors and in the folds of their scarlet cloaks as they pulled steadily through the snowy morning. Their breath steamed in the chill dampness as they bent and straightened in unison to the beat of the drum.
    Garion and Silk stood at the rail with their cloaks pulled tightly around them, staring somberly out through the filmy snowfall.
    "Miserable morning," the rat-faced little Drasnian noted, distastefully brushing snow from his shoulders.
    Garion grunted sourly.
    "You're in a cheerful humor today."
    "I don't really have all that much to smile about, Silk." Garion went back to glowering out at the gloomy black-and-white morning.
    Belgarath the Sorcerer came out of the aft cabin, squinted up into the thickly settling snow, and raised the hood of his stout old cloak. Then he came forward along the slippery deck to join them at the rail.
    Silk glanced at the red-cloaked Mallorean soldier who had unobtrusively come up on deck behind the old man and who now stood leaning with some show of idleness on the rail several yards aft. "I see that General Atesca is still concerned about your well-being," he said, pointing at the man who had dogged Belgarath's steps since they had sailed out of the harbor at Rak Verkat.
    Belgarath threw a quick disgusted glance in the soldier's direction. "Stupidity," he said shortly. "Where does he think I'm going?"
    A sudden thought came to Garion. He leaned forward and spoke very quietly. "You know," he said, "we could go someplace, at that. We've got a ship here, and a ship goes wherever you point it -Mallorea just as easily as the coast of Hagga."
    "It's an interesting notion, Belgarath," Silk agreed.
    "There are four of us, Grandfather," Garion pointed out. "You, me, Aunt Pol, and Durnik. I'm sure we wouldn't have much difficulty in taking over this ship. Then we could change course and be halfway to Mallorea before Kal Zakath realized that we weren't coming to Rak Hagga after all." The more he thought about it, the more the idea excited him. "Then we could sail north along the Mallorean coast and anchor in a cove or inlet someplace on the shore of Camat. We'd only be a week or so from Ashaba. We might even be able to get there before Zandramas does." A bleak smile touched his lips. "I'd sort of like to be waiting for her when she gets there."
    "It's got some definite possibilities, Belgarath," Silk said. "Could you do it?"
    Belgarath scratched thoughtfully at his beard, squinting out into the sifting snow. "It's possible," he admitted. He looked at Garion. "But what do you think we ought to do with all these Mallorean soldiers and the ship's crew, once we get to the coast of Camat? You weren't planning to sink the ship and drown them all, were you, the way Zandramas does when she's finished using people?"
    "Of course not!"
    "I'm glad to hear that -but then how did you plan to keep them from running to the nearest garrison just as soon as we leave them behind? I don't know about you, but the idea of having a regiment or so of Mallorean troops hot on our heels doesn't excite me all that much."
    Garion frowned. "I guess I hadn't thought about that," he admitted.
    "I didn't think you had. It's usually best to work your way completely through an idea before you put it into action. It avoids a great deal of spur-of-the-moment patching later on."
    " All right," Garion said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
    "I know you're impatient, Garion, but impatience is a poor substitute for a well-considered plan."
    "Do you mind, Grandfather?" Garion said acidly.
    "Besides, it might just be that we're supposed to go to Rak Hagga and meet with Kal Zakath. Why would Cyradis turn us over to the Malloreans, after she went to all the trouble of putting The Book of Ages into my hands? There's something else going on here, and I'm not sure we want to disrupt things until we find out a little more about them."
    The cabin door opened, and General Atesca, the commander of the Mallorean forces occupying the Isle of Verkat, emerged. From the moment they had been turned over to him, Atesca had been polite and strictly correct in all his dealings with them. He had also been very firm about his