King of The Murgos

in a gale-torn twilight and carefully led their horses along the edge of the bluff to the entrance of the cellar as the last tatters of daylight faded from the sky. The inside of the vaulted chamber was warm now and filled with the light of the fire dancing on the hearth. The others had strung lines from the arches during their absence, and their blankets and clothing hung dripping and steaming along the walls.
    "Any luck?" Silk asked as Garion led his horse inside. "Not much," Garion admitted. "The sailors cleaned out the galley pretty thoroughly."
    Durnik and Toth led in the other horses and lifted down a number of makeshift packs. "We found a bag of beans," the smith reported, "and a crock full of honey. There was a sack of meal back in a corner and a couple of sides of bacon. The sailors left the bacon behind because it was moldy, but we ought to be able to cut most of the mold away."
    "That's all?" Polgara asked.
    "I'm afraid so, Pol," Durnik replied. "We picked up a brazier and a couple of bags of charcoal—since there doesn't seem to be any firewood in this part of the world."
    She frowned slightly, running over the inventory he had just given her.
    "It's not very much, Pol," he apologized, "but it was the best we could do."
    "I can manage with it, dear," she said, smiling at him. "I picked up the clothes we left in those aft cabins, too," Garion said as he unsaddled his horse. "A few of them are even dry."
    "Good," Polgara said. "Let's all change into whatever dry clothing will fit, and I'll see what I can do about something to eat."
    Silk had been looking suspiciously at the sack of meal. "Gruel?" he asked, looking unhappy.
    "Beans would take much too long to cook," she replied. "Porridge and honey—and a bit of bacon—will get us through the night."
    He sighed.
    The following morning, the rain and sleet had let up, although the wind still tore at the long grass atop the headland. Garion, wrapped in his cloak, stood on the ledge outside the entrance to the cellar, looking out over the froth-tipped waves in the gulf and the surf pounding on the beach far below. Off to the southeast, the clouds seemed to be growing thinner, and patches of blue raced along through the dirty-looking murk covering the rest of the sky. Sometime during the night, the tide had once again washed over the wreck of their ship, and the aft end had broken away and been carried off. A number of huddled lumps bobbed limply at the edge of the surf, and Garion resolutely kept his eyes away from those mute remains of the Murgo sailors who had been washed overboard and drowned when the ship had crashed into the reef.
    Then, far up the coast, he saw a number of red-sailed ships beating their way along the south shore of the Gorand Sea toward the broken remains of the ship lying on the beach below.
    Belgarath and Eriond pushed their way past the sailcloth door Durnik had hung across the arched entrance to the cellar the night before to join Garion on the ledge. "It's quit raining at least," Garion reported, "and the wind seems to be dropping. There's that problem though." He pointed at the Mallorean ships coming up the coast.
    Belgarath grunted. "They're certain to come ashore when they see the wreck," he agreed. "I think it's time for us to leave here."
    Eriond was looking around with a strange expression on his face. "It hasn't changed much," he noted. He pointed toward a small, grassy bench at the far end of the ledge. "I used to play there," he said, "when Zedar let me come outside, anyway."
    "Did he talk to you very much while you were staying here?" Belgarath asked him.
    "Not very often." Eriond shrugged. "He kept pretty much to himself. He had some books with him and he used to spend most of his time with them."
    "It must have been a lonely way to grow up," Garion said.
    "It wasn't so bad. I used to spend a lot of my time watching the clouds—or the birds. In the springtime the birds nest in holes in the face of this bluff. If you lean out over the edge, you can see them coming and going, and I always used to like watching the fledglings when they first tried out their wings".
    "Do you have any idea of how far it is to the high road that leads inland?" Belgarath asked him.
    "It used to take us about a day to get there. Of course I was small then, and I couldn't walk very fast."
    Belgarath nodded. He shaded his eyes with one hand and looked at the Mallorean ships laboring up the coast. "I think we'd better tell the others," he said.