Guardians of the West

be vinegar." Beldin set the cask on the floor and bashed in its top with his fist. Then he licked his fingers and smacked his lips. "No," he said, "it's definitely not vinegar." He rummaged through a nearby cupboard and produced three earthenware cups.
    "Well, brother," Belgarath said, "what are your plans?"
    Beldin dipped into the cask with one of the cups. "I think I'll see if I can track down Harakan. I'd like to finish him off before I go back to Mallorea. He's not the kind you want lurking in alleys behind you as you go by."
    "You're going to Mallorea, then?" Belgarath tore a wing off the chicken lying on the table.
    "That's possibly the only place where we can get any solid information about this Zandramas." Beldin belched.
    "Javelin says that he thinks it's a Darshivan name," Garion told him.
    Beldin grunted. "That could help a little. This time I'll start there. I couldn't get anything at all at Mal Zeth, and those half-wits in Karanda fell over in a dead faint every time I mentioned the name."
    "Did you try Mal Yaska?" Belgarath asked him.
    "Hardly. Urvon's got my description posted on every wall in that place. For some reason, he's afraid that someday I might show up and yank out several yards of his guts."
    "I wonder why."
    "I told him so, that's why."
    "You'll be in Darshiva, then?"
    "For the time being -at least, I will after I've got Harakan safely under the ground. If I find out anything about Zandramas, I'll get word to you."
    "Keep your eyes open for clear copies of the Mallorean Gospels and the Ashabine Oracles, too," Belgarath told him. " According to the Codex, I'm supposed to find clues in them."
    "And what are you going to do?"
    "I think we'll go on down to Nyissa and see if the Orb can pick up the trail of my great-grandson."
    "The fact that some Rivan shepherd saw a Nyissan ship is a pretty slender lead, Belgarath."
    "I know, but at the moment it's the only one we've got."
    Garion absently pulled a few fragments off the picked-over chicken and put them in his mouth. He suddenly realized that he was ravenously hungry.
    "Are you going to take Polgara with you?" Beldin asked.
    "I don't think so. Garion and I are likely to be out of touch, and we'll need somebody here in the north to keep an eye on things. The Alorns are feeling muscular at the moment and they're going to need a firm hand to keep them out of mischief."
    "That's a normal condition for Alorns. You realize that Polgara's not going to be happy when you tell her she has to stay behind, don't you?"
    "I know," Belgarath replied with a gloomy look. "Maybe I'll just leave her a note. That worked pretty well last time."
    "Just try to make sure she's not in the vicinity of anything breakable when she gets the note." Beldin laughed. "Like large cities and mountain ranges. I heard what happened when she got the last note you left."
    The door opened, and Barak stuck his head into the kitchen. "Oh," he said. "There you are. There are a couple people out here who want to see you. Mandorallen found them on the outskirts of town -a very strange pair."
    "How do you mean strange?" Garion asked.
    "The man's as big as a house. He's got arms like tree trunks, but he can't talk. The girl's pretty enough, but she's blind."
    Belgarath and Beldin exchanged a quick look. "How do you know she's blind?" Belgarath asked.
    "She's got a cloth tied across her eyes." Barak shrugged. "I just assumed that was what it meant."
    "I guess we'd better go talk to her." Beldin said, rising from his seat. "A seeress wouldn't be in this part of the world unless it was pretty important."
    "A seeress?" Garion asked.
    "One of those people from Kell," Belgarath explained. "They're always blindfolded, and their guides are always mutes. Let's go see what she has to say."
    When they entered the large main room, they found the others curiously eyeing the two strangers. The blindfolded seeress was a slight girl in a white robe. She had dark blond hair, and a serene smile touched her lips. She stood quietly in the center of the room, patiently waiting. Beside her stood one of the largest men Garion had ever seen. He wore a kind of sleeveless kirtle of coarse, undyed cloth belted at the waist, and he carried no weapon except for a stout, polished staff. He towered above even Hettar, and his bare arms were awesomely muscled. In a curious way, he seemed almost to hover over his slender mistress, his eyes watchful and protective.
    "Has she said who she is?" Belgarath quietly asked Polgara