Demon Lord of Karanda

twin ruts buried in snow.
    Sadi the eunuch looked upward with a slightly bemused expression as they rode off the pier and onto the road. He lightly brushed one long-fingered hand across his shaved scalp. "They feel like fairy wings," he smiled.
    "What's that?" Silk asked him.
    "The snowflakes. I've almost never seen snow before-only when I was visiting a northern kingdom- and I actually believe that this is the first time I've ever been out of doors when it was snowing. It's not too bad, is it?"
    Silk gave him a sour look. "The first chance I get, I'll buy you a sled," he said.
    Sadi looked puzzled. "Excuse me, Kheldar, but what's a sled?" he asked.
    Silk sighed. "Never mind, Sadi. I was only trying to be funny."
    At the top of the first hill a dozen or so crosses leaned at various angles beside the road. Hanging from each cross was a skeleton with a few tattered rags clinging to its bleached bones and a clump of snow crowning its vacant-eyed skull.
    "One is curious to know the reason for that, General Atesca," Sadi said mildly, pointing at the grim display at the roadside.
    "Policy, your Excellency." Atesca replied curtly. "His Imperial Majesty seeks to alienate the Murgos from their king. He hopes to make them realize that Urgit is the cause of their misfortunes."
    Sadi shook his head dubiously. "I'd question the reasoning behind that particular policy," he disagreed.
    "Atrocities seldom endear one to the victims. I've always preferred bribery myself."
    "Murgos are accustomed to being treated atrociously." Atesca shrugged. "It's all they understand."
    "Why haven't you taken them down and buried them?" Durnik demanded, his face pale and his voice thick with outrage.
    Atesca gave him a long, steady look. "Economy, Goodman," he replied. " An empty cross really doesn't prove very much. If we took them down, we'd just have to replace them with fresh Murgos. That gets to be tedious after a while, and sooner or later one starts to run out of people to crucify. Leaving the skeletons there proves our point -and it saves time."
    Garion did his best to keep his body between Ce'Nedra and the gruesome object lesson at the side of the road, trying to shield her from that hideous sight. She rode on obliviously, however, her face strangely numb and her eyes blank and unseeing. He threw a quick, questioning glance at Polgara and saw a slight frown on her face. He dropped back and pulled his horse in beside hers. "What's wrong with her?" he asked in a tense whisper.
    "I'm not entirely sure, Garion," she whispered back.
    "Is it the melancholia again?" There was a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
    "I don't think so," Her eyes were narrowed in thought, and she absently pulled the hood of her blue robe forward to cover the white lock in the midnight of her hair. "I'll keep an eye on her."
    "What can I do?"
    "Stay with her. Try to get her to talk. She might say something to give us some clues."
    Ce'Nedra, however, made few responses to Garion's efforts to engage her in conversation, and her answers for the remainder of that snowy day quite frequently had little relevance to either his questions or his observations.
    As evening began to settle over the war-ravaged countryside of Hagga, General Atesca called a halt, and his soldiers began to erect several scarlet pavilions in the lee of a fire-blackened stone wall, all that remained of a burned-out village. "We should reach Rak Hagga by late tomorrow afternoon," he advised them. " That large pavilion in the center of the encampment will be yours for the night. My men will bring you your evening meal in a little while. Now, if you'll all excuse me-" He inclined his head briefly, then turned his horse around to supervise his men.
    When the soldiers had completed the erection of the pavilions, Garion and his friends dismounted in front of the one Atesca had indicated. Silk looked around at the guard detachment moving into position around the large red tent. "I wish he'd make up his mind," he said irritably.
    "I don't quite follow you, Prince Kheldar," Velvet said to him. "Just who should make up his mind?"
    "Atesca. He's the very soul of courtesy, but he surrounds us with armed guards."
    "The troops might just be there to protect us, Kheldar," she pointed out. "This is a war zone, after all."
    "Of course," he said dryly, "and cows might fly, too -if they had wings."
    "What a fascinating observation," she marveled.
    "I wish you wouldn't do that all the time."
    "Do what?" Her