Guardians of the West

example."
    "That doesn't fit together, Belgarath," Barak rumbled. "Why would Urvon want to interfere with the Child of Dark? They're on the same side, aren't they?"
    "Apparently not. It begins to look as if there's a little dissension in the ranks on the other side."
    "That's always helpful."
    "I'd like to know a bit more before I start gloating, though."
    It was midafternoon before the last fanatic resistance collapsed in the southeastern quarter of Rheon and the demoralized prisoners were herded through the streets of the burning town to join the others in the town square.
    Garion and General Brendig stood on the second floor balcony of the house where they had taken Harakan, talking quietly with the small, black-gowned Queen of Drasnia. "What will you do with them now, your Majesty?" General Brendig asked her, looking down at the frightened prisoners in the square.
    "I'm going to tell them the truth and let them go, Brendig."
    "Let them go?"
    "Of course."
    "I'm afraid I don't quite follow you."
    "They're going to be just a little upset when I tell them that they've been duped into betraying Aloria by a Mallorean Grolim."
    "I don't think they'll believe you."
    "Enough of them will," she replied placidly, adjusting the collar of her black dress. "I'll manage to convince at least some of them of the truth, and they'll spread the word. Once it becomes general knowledge that the cult fell under the domination of this Grolim Harakan, it's going to be more difficult for them to gain new converts, don't you think?"
    Brendig considered that. "I suppose you're right," he admitted. "But will you punish the ones who won't listen?"
    "That would be tyranny, General, and one should always try to avoid the appearance of tyranny -particularly when it's unnecessary. Once word of this gets around, I think that anyone who starts babbling about the divine mission of Aloria to subjugate the southern kingdoms is going to be greeted with a barrage of stones."
    "All right, then, what are you going to do about General Haldar?" he asked seriously. "You're not just going to let him go, too, are you?"
    "Haldar's quite another matter," she replied. "He's a traitor, and that sort of thing ought to be discouraged."
    "When he finds out what happened here, he'll probably try to run."
    "Appearances can be deceiving, General Brendig," she told him with a chill smile. "I may look like a helpless woman, but I have a very long arm. Haldar can't run far enough or fast enough to escape me. And when my people catch him, he'll be brought back to Boktor in chains to stand trial. I think the outcome of that trial will be fairly predictable."
    "Would you excuse me?" Garion asked politely. "I need to go talk with my grandfather."
    "Of course, Garion," Queen Porenn said with a warm little smile.
    He went back downstairs and found Silk and Javelin still ransacking the chests and cabinets in the green-carpeted room. "Are you finding anything useful?" he asked.
    "Well, quite a bit, actually." Javelin replied. "I expect that by the time we're finished, we'll have the name of every cult member in Aloria."
    "It just proves something I've always said," Silk noted as he continued to read. "A man should never put anything down in writing."
    "Have either of you any idea where I can find Belgarath?"
    "You might try the kitchens at the back of the house," Silk replied. "He said something about being hungry. I think Beldin went with him."
    The kitchen in Harakan's house had escaped the general ransacking by Yarblek's men, who appeared to be more interested in loot than food, and the two old sorcerers sat comfortably at a table near a low, arched window picking at the remains of a roasted chicken. "Ah, Garion, my boy," Belgarath said expansively. "Come in and join us."
    "Do you suppose there's anything to drink around here?" Beldin asked, wiping his fingers on the front of his tunic.
    "There should be," Belgarath replied. "It's a kitchen, after all. Why don't you look in that pantry?"
    Beldin rose and crossed the kitchen floor toward the pantry.
    Garion bent slightly to look out the low window at the houses burning one street over. "It's starting to snow again," he observed.
    Belgarath grunted. "I think we'll want to get out of here as quickly as we can," he said. "I don't really want to spend the winter here."
    Ah, ha!" Beldin said from the pantry. He emerged with a triumphant grin carrying a small wooden cask.
    "You'd better taste it first," Belgarath told him. "It might