Demon Lord of Karanda

then?"
    "I hope you know what you're doing," Belgarath said to him.
    "How could ye possibly doubt me, old man?" the comedian said, with an exaggerated expression of injury. "I'm the very soul of circumspection, don't y' know." He made a faint grimace. "There's only one teensy- weensy little problem. It seems that a certain portion of this passageway collapsed in on itself a while back, so we'll be forced to go through the streets up above for a triflin' bit of a way."
    "Just how triflin -trifling?" Belgarath demanded. He glared at the impudent comedian. "I wish you'd stop that," he said irritably. "What possessed you to resurrect a dialect that died out two thousand years ago?"
    " 'Tis a part of me charm, Ancient Belgarath. Any man at all kin throw balls in the air an' catch 'em again, but it's the way a performer talks that sets the tone of his act."
    "You two have met before, I take it?" Polgara said with one raised eyebrow.
    "Yer honored father an' me are old, old friends, me dear Lady Polgara," Feldegast said with a sweeping bow.
    "I know ye all by his description. I must admit, however, that I'm overcome altogether by yer unearthly beauty."
    "This is a rare rogue you've found, father," she said with a peculiar smile on her face. "I think I could grow to like him."
    "I don't really advise it, Pol. He's a liar and a sneak and he has uncleanly habits. You're evading the question, Feldegast -if that's what you want to call yourself. How far do we have to go through the streets?"
    "Not far at all, me decrepit old friend -a half a mile perhaps until the roof of the passage is stout enough again to keep the pavin' stones where they belong instead of on the top of our heads. Let's press on, then. 'Tis a long, long way to the north wall of Mal Zeth, an' the night is wearin' on."
    "Decrepit?" Belgarath objected mildly.
    "Merely me way of puttin' things, Ancient One," Feldegast apologized. "Be sure that I meant no offense." He turned to Polgara. "Will ye walk with me, me girl?Ye've got an absolutely ravishin' fragrance about ye that quite takes me breath away. I'll walk along beside ye, inhalin' and perishin' with sheer delight."
    Polgara laughed helplessly and linked her arm with that of the outrageous little man.
    "I like him," Ce'Nedra murmured us Garion as they followed along through the cobwebby passageway.
    "Yer supposed to, me girl," Garion said in a not altogether perfect imitation of the juggler's brogue. " 'Tis a part of his charm, don't y' know?"
    "Oh, Garion,." she laughed, "I love you."
    "Yes," he said. "I know."
    She gave him an exasperated look and then punched him in the shoulder with her little fist.
    "Ouch."
    "Did I hurt you?" she asked, taking his arm in sudden concern.
    "I think I can stand it, dear," he replied. "We noble heroes can bear all sorts of things." They followed Feldegast's lantern for a mile or more with the horses clattering along behind them through the cobweb-draped passageway. Occasionally they heard the rumble of the dead-carts bearing their mournful freight through the streets above. Here in the musty darkness, however, there was only the sound of the furtive skittering of an occasional errant mouse and the whisperlike tread of watchful spiders moving cautiously across the vaulted ceiling.
    "I hate this," Silk said to no one in particular. "I absolutely hate it."
    "That's all right, Kheldar," Velvet replied, taking the little man's hand. "I won't let anything hurt you."
    "Thanks awfully." he said, though he did not remove his hand from hers.
    "Who's there?" The voice came from somewhere ahead.
    "'Tis only me, good Master Yarblek," Feldegast replied. "Me an' a few lost, strayed souls tryin' to find their way on this dark, dark night."
    "Do you really enjoy him all that much?" Yarblek said sourly to someone else.
    "He's the delight of my life," Vella's voice came through the darkness. "At least with him I don't have to look to my daggers every minute to defend my virtue."Yarblek sighed gustily. "I had a feeling that you were going to say something like that," he said.
    "My lady," Vella said, making an infinitely graceful curtsy to Polgara as the sorceress and the juggler, arm in arm, moved up to the place where a moss-grown rockfall blocked the passageway. .
    "Vella," Polgara responded in an oddly Nadrak accent. "May your knives always be bright and keen."
    There was a strange formality in her greeting, and Garion knew that he was hearing an ancient ritual form of address.
    "And may you