Demon Lord of Karanda

army of Karandese fanatics. We'll be able to go on about our business and leave the mopping up to Zakath." He smiled briefly. "That might occupy his mind enough to keep him from breathing down our necks."
    Vella was laughing raucously as she and Feldegast the juggler approached the arbor. The little comedian was walking on his hands again -erratically and with his feet waving ludicrously in the air.
    "He tells a good story," the lush-bodied Nadrak girl said, still laughing, "but he can't hold his liquor."
    "I didn't think he drank all that much," Silk said.
    "It wasn't the ale that fuddled him so bad," she replied. She drew a silver flask from under her belt. "I gave him a pull or two at this." Her eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief. "Care to try some, Silk?" she offered, holding out the flask.
    "What's in it?" he asked suspiciously.
    "Just a little drink we brew in Gar og Nadrak," she said innocently. "It's as mild as mothers' milk." She demonstrated by taking a long drink from the flask.
    "'Othlass?"
    She nodded.
    "No thanks." He shuddered. "The last time I drank that, I lost track of a whole week."
    "Don't be so chicken-livered, Silk," she told him scornfully. She took another drink. "See? It doesn't hurt a bit." She looked at Garion. "My lord," she said to him. "How's your pretty little wife?"
    "She's well, Vella."
    "I'm glad to hear that. Have you got her pregnant again yet?"
    Garion flushed. "No," he replied.
    "You're wasting time, my lord. Why don't you run back to the palace and chase her around the bedroom a time or two?" Then she turned to Belgarath. "Well?" she said to him.
    "Well what?"
    She smoothly drew one of her knives from her belt."Would you like to try again?" she asked, turning deliberately so that her well-rounded posterior was available to him.
    "Ah, thanks all the same, Vella," he said with a kind massive dignity, "But it's a bit early "
    "That's all right, old man," she said. "I'm ready for you this time. Any time you're in a patting frame of mind, feel free. I sharpened all my knives before we came -especially for you."
    "You're too kind."
    The drunken Feldegast lurched, tried to regain his balance, and toppled over in an unceremonious heap. When he stumbled to his feet, his plain face was splotched and distorted, and he stood hunched over with his back bowed to the point where he almost looked deformed.
    "I think the girl got the best of you, my friend," Belgarath said jovially as he moved quickly to help the inebriated juggler to right himself. "You really ought to straighten up, though. If you stand around bent over like that, you'll tie your insides in knots."
    Garion saw his grandfather's lips moving slightly as he whispered something to the tipsy entertainer. Then, so faint that it was barely discernible, he felt the surge of the old man's will.
    Feldegast straightened, his face buried in his hands. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," he said. "Have y' poisoned me, me girl?" he demanded of Vella. "I can't remember ever bein' taken by the drink so fast." He took his hands away. The splotches and distortion were gone from his face, and he looked as he had before.
    "Don't ever try to drink with a Nadrak woman," Belgarath advised him, "particularly when she's the one who brewed the liquor."
    "It seems that I heard a snatch of conversation whilst I was entertainin' the wench hew. Is it Karanda ye be talkin' about -and the woeful things happenin' there?"
    "We were," Belgarath admitted.
    "I display me talents betimes in wayside inns and taverns -for pennies and a drink or two, don't y' know- and a great deal of information comes into places like that. Sometimes if ye make a man laugh and be merry, ye kin draw more out of him than ye can with silver or strong drink. As it happened, I was in such a place not long ago -dazzlin' the onlookers with the brilliance of me performance- and happens that whilst I was there, a wayfarer came in from the east. A great brute of a man he was, and he told us the distressful news from Karanda. And after he had eaten and finished more pots of good strong ale than was good for him, I sought him out and questioned him further. A man in me profession can't never know too much about the places where he might be called upon to display his art, don't y' know. This great brute of a man, who should not have feared anythin' that walks, was shakin' and tremblin' like a frightened babe, and he tells me that I should stay out of Karanda as I valued me life. And then he tells me