Demon Lord of Karanda

numbers. The Karands either slipped around them or simply overwhelmed them. Mengha's army numbers almost a million by now -ill-equipped and poorly trained, perhaps, but a million is a significant number, even if they're armed with sticks. Not only Jenno but also Ganesia are totally under Mengha's domination, and he's on the verge of overwhelming Katakor. Once he succeeds there, he'll inevitably move on Pallia and Delchin. If he isn't stopped, he'll be knocking on the gates of Mal Zeth by Erastide."
    "Is he unleashing his demons in these campaigns?" Belgarath asked intently.
    "Not really," Brador replied. "After what happened at Calida, there's no real need for that. The sight of them alone is usually enough to spring open the gates of any city he's taken so far. He's succeeded with remarkably little actual fighting."
    The old man nodded. "I sort of thought that might have been the case. A demon is very hard to get back under control once it's tasted blood."
    "It's not really the demons that are causing the problems," Brador continued. "Mengha's flooded all the rest of Karanda with his agents, and the stories that they're circulating are whipping previously uncommitted people into a frenzy." He looked at the Emperor. "Would you believe that we actually caught one of his missionaries in the Karandese barracks right here in Mal Zeth?" he said.
    Zakath looked up sharply. "How did he get in?" he demanded,
    "He disguised himself as a corporal returning from convalescent leave at home," Brador replied. "He'd even gone so far as to give himself a wound to make his story look authentic. It was very believable the way he cursed Murgos."
    "What did you do to him?"
    "Unfortunately, he didn't survive the questioning," Brador said, frowning. He bent to remove the kitten from around his ankle.
    "Unfortunately?"
    "I had some interesting plans for him. I take it rather personally when someone manages to circumvent my secret police. It's a matter of professional pride."
    "What do you advise, then?" Zakath asked.
    Brador began to pace. "I'm afraid that you're going to have to bring the army back from Cthol Murgos, your Majesty," he said. "You can't fight a war on two fronts."
    "Absolutely out of the question." Zakath's tone was adamant.
    "I don't think we have much choice," Brador told him.
    "Almost half of the forces left here in Mallorea are of Karandese origin, and it's my considered opinion that to rely upon them in any kind of confrontation with Mengha would be sheer folly."
    Zakath's face grew bleak.
    "Put it this way, your Majesty," Brador said smoothly. "If you weaken your forces in Cthol Murgos, it's quite possible that you'll lose Rak Cthaka and maybe Rak Gorut, but if you don't bring the army home, you're going to lose Mal Zeth."
    Zakath glared at him.
    "There's still time to consider the matter, Sire," Brador added in a reasonable tone of voice. "This is only my assessment of the situation. I'm sure you'll want confirmation of what I've said from military intelligence, and you'll need to consult with the High Command."
    "No," Zakath said bluntly. "The decision is mine." He scowled at the floor. "All right, Brador, we'll bring the army home. Go tell the High Command that I want to see them all at once."
    "Yes, your Majesty."
    Garion had risen to his feet. "How long will it take to ship your troops back from Cthol Murgos?" he asked with a sinking feeling.
    "About three months," Zakath replied.
    "I can't wait that long, Zakath."
    "I'm very sorry, Garion, but none of us has any choice. Neither you nor I will leave Mal Zeth until the army gets here."

CHAPTER EIGHT
    The following morning, Silk came early to the rooms Garion shared with Ce'Nedra. The little man once again wore his doublet and hose, though he had removed most of his jewelry. Over his arm he carried a pair of Mallorean robes, the lightweight, varicolored garments worn by most of the citizens of Mal Zeth. "Would you like to go into the city?" he asked Garion.
    "I don't think they'll let us out of the palace."
    "I've already taken care of that. Brador gave his permission- provided that we don't try to get away from the people who are going to be following us."
    "That's a depressing thought. I hate being followed."
    "You get used to it."
    "Have you got anything specific in mind, or is this just a sight-seeing tour?"
    "I want to stop by our offices here and have a talk with our factor."
    Garion gave him a puzzled look.
    "The agent who handles things for us here in Mal