Demon Lord of Karanda

then?"
    "Why don't we?"

CHAPTER TEN
    The following morning when they gathered for breakfast, Silk's expression was faintly abstracted as if he had just realized that someone had somehow outbargained him. The little man steadfastly refused to look at Velvet, who kept her eyes demurely on the bowl of strawberries and cream she was eating.
    "You seem a trifle out of sorts this morning, Prince Kheldar," Ce'Nedra said to him in an offhand manner, though her eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth. "Whatever is the matter?"
    He threw her a quick, suspicious look.
    "There, there," she said, fondly patting his hand. "I'm sure that you'll feel much better after breakfast."
    "I'm not very hungry," he replied. His voice was just a little sullen. He stood up abruptly. "I think I'll go for a walk," he said.
    "But my dear fellow," she protested, "you haven't eaten your strawberries. They're absolutely delicious, aren't they, Liselle?"
    "Marvelous," the blond girl agreed with only the faintest hint of her dimples showing.
    Silk's scowl deepened, and he marched resolutely toward the door.
    "May I have yours, Kheldar?" Velvet called after him. "If you're not going to eat them, that is?"
    He slammed the door as he went out, and Ce'Nedra and Velvet exploded into gales of silvery laughter.
    "What's this?" Polgara asked them.
    "Oh, nothing," Ce'Nedra said, still laughing. "Nothing at all, Lady Polgara. Our Prince Kheldar had a little adventure last night that didn't turn out exactly the way he expected it to."
    Velvet gave Ce'Nedra a quick look and flushed slightly. Then she laughed again.
    Polgara looked at the giggling pair, and then one of her eyebrows went up. "Oh. I see," she said.
    The flush on Velvet's cheeks grew rosier, although she continued to laugh.
    "Oh, dear." Polgara sighed.
    "Is something wrong, Pol?" Durnik asked her.
    She looked at the good, honest man, assessing his strict Sendarian principles. "Just a small complication, Durnik," she replied, "Nothing that can't be managed."
    "That's good." He pushed back his bowl. "Do you need me for anything this morning?"
    "No, dear," she replied, kissing him.
    He returned her kiss and then stood up, looking across the table at Toth and Eriond, who sat waiting expectantly. "Shall we go then?" he asked them.
    The three of them trooped out, their faces alight with anticipation.
    "I wonder how long it's going to take them to empty all the fish out of that pond," Polgara mused.
    "Forever, I'm afraid, Lady Polgara," Sadi told her, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "The grounds keepers restock it every night."
    She sighed. "I was afraid of that," she said.
    About midmorning, Garion was pacing up and down one of the long, echoing halls. He felt irritable, and a sort of frustrated impatience seemed to weigh him down. The urgent need to get to Ashaba before Zandramas escaped him again was so constantly on his mind now that he could think of almost nothing else. Although they had come up with several possible schemes, Silk, Velvet, and Sadi were still searching for a suitable diversion -something startling enough to draw off Brador's secret policemen so that they could all make good their escape. There was obviously little chance of changing Zakath's mind; and it began to look increasingly as if Garion and his friends were going to have to "do it the other way." as Belgarath sometimes put it. Despite his occasional threats to Zakath, Garion didn't really want to do that. He was quite sure that to do so would permanently end his growing friendship with the strange man who ruled Mallorea. He was honest enough to admit that it was not only the friendship he would regret losing but the political possibilities implicit in the situation as well.
    He was about to return to his rooms when a scarlet-liveried servant came up to him. "Your Majesty," the servant said with a deep bow, "Prince Kheldar asked me to find you for him. He'd like to have a word with you."
    "Where is he?" Garion asked.
    "In the formal garden near the north wall of the complex, your Majesty. There's a half-drunk Nadrak with him -and a woman with a remarkably foul mouth. You wouldn't believe some of the things she said to me."
    "I think I know her," Garion replied with a faint smile. "I'd believe it." He turned then and walked briskly through the hallways and out into the palace grounds.
    Yarblek had not changed. Though it was pleasantly warm in the neatly manicured formal garden, he nonetheless still wore his shabby felt overcoat