Demon Lord of Karanda

Lady," Vella replied a bit shyly. " And we'll meet again, I'm sure."
    "I'm certain that we will."
    " Are ye sure that ye won't reconsider yer outrageous askin' price, Master Yarblek?" Feldegast asked.
    "Talk to her about it," Yarblek replied, jerking his head in Vella's direction. "She's the one who set it."
    " 'Tis a hardhearted woman ye are, me girl," the juggler accused her.
    She shrugged. "If you buy something cheap, you don't value it."
    "Now that's the truth, surely. I'll see what I kin do t' put me hands on some money, fer make no mistake, me fine wench, I mean t' own ye."
    "We'll see," she replied with a slight smile.
    They went out of the circle of firelight to their picketed horses -and the juggler's mule- and mounted quietly. The moon had set, and the stars lay like bright jewels across the warm, velvet throat of night as they rode out of Yarblek's camp and moved at a cautious walk toward the north. When the sun rose several hours later, they were miles away, moving northward along, a well-maintained highway toward Mal Rukuth, the Angarak city lying on the south bank of the Raku River, the stream that marked the southern border of Venna . The morning was warm, the sky was clear, and they made good time. Once again there were refugees on the road, but unlike yesterday, significant numbers of them were fleeing toward the south.
    "Is it possible that the plague has broken out in the north as well?" Sadi asked.
    Polgara frowned. "It's possible, I suppose," she told him.
    "I think it's more likely that those people are fleeing from Mengha," Belgarath disagreed.
    "It's going to get a bit chaotic hereabouts," Silk noted.
    "If you've got people fleeing in one direction from the plague and people fleeing in the other from the demons, about all they'll be able to do is mill around out here on these plains."
    "That could work to our advantage, Kheldar," Velvet pointed out. "Sooner or later, Zakath is going to discover that we left Mal Zeth without saying good-bye and he's likely to send troops out looking for us. A bit of chaos in this region should help to confuse their search, wouldn't you say?"
    "You've got a point there," he admitted.
    Garion rode on in a half doze, a trick he had learned from Belgarath. Though he had occasionally missed a night's sleep in the past, he had never really gotten used to it. He rode along with his head down, only faintly aware of what was happening around him.
    He heard a persistent sound that seemed to nag at the edge of his consciousness. He frowned, his eyes still closed, trying to identify the sound. And then he remembered. It was a faint, despairing wail, and the full horror of the sight of the dying child in the shabby street in Mal Zeth struck him. Try though he might, he could not wrench himself back into wakefulness, and the continuing cry tore at his heart.
    Then he felt a large hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Struggling, he raised his head to look full into the sad face of the giant Toth.
    "Did you hear it, too?" he asked.
    Toth nodded, his face filled with sympathy.
    "It was only a dream, wasn't it?"
    Toth spread his hands, and his look was uncertain.
    Garion squared his shoulders and sat up in his saddle, determined not to drift off again.
    They rode some distance away from the road and took a cold lunch of bread, cheese, and smoked sausage in the shade of a large elm tree standing quite alone in the middle of a field of oats. There was a small spring surrounded by a mossy rock wall not far away, where they were able to water the horses and fill their water bags.
    Belgarath stood looking out over the fields toward a distant village and the barricaded lane which approached it. "How much food do we have with us, Pol?" he asked.
    "If every village we come to is closed up the way the ones we've passed so far have been, it's going to be difficult to replenish our stores."
    "I think we'll be all right, father," she replied. "Vella was very generous."
    "I like her." Ce'Nedra smiled. "Even though she does swear all the time."
    Polgara returned the smile. "It's the Nadrak way, dear," she said. "When I was in Gar og Nadrak, I had to draw on my memories of the more colorful parts of my father's vocabulary to get by."
    "Hallooo!" someone hailed them.
    "He's over there." Silk pointed toward the road.
    A man who was wearing one of the brown robes that identified him as a Melcene bureaucrat sat looking at them longingly from the back of a bay horse.
    "What do you want?"