Demon Lord of Karanda

Urvon converted about half of them back. The ones who reassumed human form are all sorcerers of greater or lesser talent, and they can communicate with the ones who are still Hounds. They're very close-knit -like a pack of wild dogs- and they're all fanatically loyal to Urvon."
    "An' that be much of the source of Urvon's power," Feldegast added. "Ordinary Grolims be always schemin' against each other an' against their superiors, but Urvon's Chandim have kept the Mallorean Grolims in line fer five hundred years now."
    "And the Temple Guardsmen?" Sadi added. "Are they Chandim, or Grolims, too?"
    "Not usually," Belgarath replied. "There are Grolims among them, of course, but most of them are Mallorean Angaraks. They were recruited before Vo Mimbre to serve as Torak's personal bodyguard."
    "Why would a God need a bodyguard?"
    "I never entirely understood that myself," the old man admitted. "Anyway, after Vo Mimbre, there are still a few of them left -new recruits, veterans who'd been wounded in earlier battles and sent home, that sort of thing. Urvon persuaded them that he spoke for Torak, and now their allegiance is to him. After that, they recruited more young Angaraks to fill up the holes in their ranks. They do more than just guard the Temple now, though. When Urvon started having difficulties with the Emperors at Mal Zeth, he decided that he needed a fighting force, so he expanded them into an army."
    " 'Tis a practical arrangement," Feldegast pointed out. "The Chandim provide Urvon with the sorcery he needs t' keep the other Grolims toein' the mark, an' the simple Guardsmen provide the muscle t' keep the ordinary folk from protestin' their lot."
    "These Guardsmen, they're just ordinary soldiers, then?" Durnik asked.
    "Not really. They're closer to being knights," Belgarath replied.
    "Like Mandorallen, you mean -all dressed in steel plate and with shields and lances and war horses and all that?"
    "No, Goodman," Feldegast answered. "They're not nearly so grand. Lances an' helmets and shields they have, certainly, but fer the rest, they rely on chain mail.
    They be most nearly as stupid as Arends, however. Somethin' about wearin' all that steel empties the mind of every knight the world around."
    Belgarath was looking speculatively at Garion. "How muscular are you feeling?" he asked.
    "Not very -why?"
    "We've got a bit of a problem here. We're far more likely to encounter Guardsmen than we are Chandim -but if we start unhorsing all these tin men with our minds, the noise is going to attract the Chandim like a beacon."
    Garion stared at him. "You're not serious! I'm not Mandorallen, Grandfather."
    "No. You've got better sense than he has."
    "I will not stand by and hear my knight insulted!" Ce'Nedra declared hotly.
    "Ce'Nedra," Belgarath said almost absently, "hush."
    "Hush?"
    "You heard me." He scowled at her so blackly that she faltered and drew back behind Polgara for protection.
    "The point, Garion," the old man continued, "is that you've received a certain amount of training from Mandorallen in this sort of thing and you've had a bit of experience. None of the rest of us have."
    "I don't have any armor."
    "You've got a mail shirt."
    "I don't have a helmet -or a shield."
    "I could probably manage those, Garion," Durnik offered.
    Garion looked at his old friend. "I'm terribly disappointed in you, Durnik," he said.
    "You aren't afraid, are you, Garion?" Ce'Nedra asked in a small voice.
    "Well, no. Not really. It's just that it's so stupid -and it looks so ridiculous."
    "Have you got an old pot I could borrow, Pol?" Durnik asked.
    "How big a pot?"
    "Big enough to fit Garion's head."
    "Now that's going too far!" Garion exclaimed. "I'm not going to wear a kitchen pot on my head for a helmet. I haven't done that since I was a boy."
    "I'll modify it a bit," Durnik assured him. "And then I'll take the lid and make you a shield." Garion walked away swearing to himself.
    Velvet's eyes had narrowed. She looked at Feldegast with no hint of her dimples showing. "Tell me, master juggler," she said, "how is it that an itinerant entertainer, who plays for pennies in wayside taverns, knows so very much about the inner working of Grolim society here in Mallorea?"
    "I be not nearly so foolish as I look, me lady," he replied, "an' I do have eyes an' ears, an' know how t' use 'em."
    "You avoided that question rather well," Belgarath complimented him.
    The juggler smirked. "I thought so meself . Now," he continued seriously, "as me