Demon Lord of Karanda

which ladies seasoned their bath water. Some of these she restoppered disapprovingly. Others she liberally sprinkled into her bath. One or two of them she rubbed on herself in various places.
    "What if somebody comes in?" Garion asked her pointedly. "Some official or messenger or servant or something?"
    "Well, what if they do?"
    He stared at her.
    "Garion, darling," she said in that same infuriatingly reasonable tone, "if they hadn't intended for the bath to be used, they wouldn't have prepared it, would they?"
    Try as he might, he could not find an answer to that question.
    She laid her head back in the water, letting her hair fan out around her face. Then she sat up. "Would you like to wash my back for me?" she asked him.
    An hour or so later, after an excellent lunch served by efficient servants, Silk stopped by. The little thief had also bathed and changed clothes once again. His pearl-gray doublet was formally elegant, and he once again dripped jewels. His short, scraggly beard had been neatly trimmed, and there was a faint air of exotic perfume lingering about him. "Appearances," he responded to Garion's quizzical look. "One always wants to put one's best foot forward in a new situation."
    "Of course," Garion said dryly.
    "Belgarath asked me to stop by," the little man continued. "There's a large room upstairs. We're gathering there for a council of war."
    "War?"
    "Metaphorically speaking, of course."
    "Oh. Of course."
    The room at the top of a flight of marble stairs to which Silk led Garion and Ce'Nedra was quite large, and there was a throne-like chair on a dais against the back wall.
    Garion looked about at the lush furnishings and heavy crimson drapes. "This isn't the throne room, is it?" he asked.
    "No," Silk replied. " At least not Kal Zakath's official one. It's here to make visiting royalty feel at home. Some kings get nervous when they don't have official-looking surroundings to play in."
    "Oh."
    Belgarath sat with his mismatched boots up on a polished table. His hair and beard were slightly damp, evidence that, despite his pretended indifference to bathing, he had in fact followed Polgara's instructions. Polgara and Durnik were talking quietly at one side, and Eriond and Toth were nearby. Velvet and Sadi stood looking out the window at the formal garden lying to the east of Zakath's sprawling palace.
    "All right," the old sorcerer said, "I guess we're all here now. I think we need to talk."
    -I wouldn't say anything too specific- Silk's fingers said in the gestures of the Drasnian secret language. -It's almost certain that there are a few spies about-
    Belgarath looked at the far wall, his eyes narrowed as he searched it inch by inch for hidden peepholes. He grunted and looked at Polgara.
    "I'll look into it, father," she murmured. Her eyes grew distant, and Garion felt the familiar surge. After a moment she nodded and held up three fingers. She concentrated for a moment, and the quality of the surge changed, seeming somehow languorous. Then she straightened and relaxed her will. "It's all right now," she told them calmly. "They fell asleep."
    "That was very smooth, Pol," Durnik said admiringly.
    "Why, thank you, dear," she smiled, laying her hand on his.
    Belgarath put his feet on the floor and leaned forward.
    "That's one more thing for us all to keep in mind," he said seriously. "We're likely to be watched all the time that we're here in Mal Zeth, so be careful. Zakath's a skeptic, so we can't really be sure just how much of what we've told him he believes. It's altogether possible that he has other things in mind for us. Right now he needs our help in dealing with Mengha, but he still hasn't entirely abandoned his campaign in Cthol Murgos, and he might want to use us to bring the Alorns and the others into that war on his side. He's also got problems with Urvon and Zandramas. We don't have the time to get caught up in internal Mallorean politics. At the moment, though, we're more or less in his power, so let's be careful."
    "We can leave any time we need to, Belgarath," Durnik said confidently.
    "I'd rather not do it that way unless we have absolutely no other choice," the old man replied. "Zakath's the kind of man who's very likely to grow testy if he's thwarted, and I don't want to have to creep around dodging his soldiers. It takes too much time and it's dangerous. I'll be a lot happier if we can leave Mal Zeth with his blessing -or at least with his consent."
    "I want to get to Ashaba before