King of The Murgos

mind, so he kept his peace and contemplated the idea of vengeance, if not justice.
    When they reached the muddy road coming in off the northern end of the lake and stretching out toward the southeast and the city of Rak Cthaka, they found it clogged with a horde of terrified civilians, dressed for the most part in ragged clothing and carrying bundles of what few possessions they had been able to salvage.
    "I think we'll stay off the road," Belgarath decided. "We could never make any time through that mob."
    "Are we going on to Rak Cthaka?" Sadi asked him.
    Belgarath looked at the crowd streaming along the road. "I don't think you could find a raft in Rak Cthaka right now, much less a ship. Let's go on into the forest and work our way south through the trees. I don't much like staying out in the open in hostile territory, and fishing villages are better places to hire boats than the piers of a major city."
    "Why don't you and the others ride on," Silk suggested. "I'd like to ask a few questions."
    Belgarath grunted. "That might not be a bad idea. Just don't be too long at it. I'd like to reach the Great Southern Forest sometime before the end of winter, if I can possibly manage it."
    "I'll go with him, Grandfather," Garion offered. "I need to get my mind off some things I've seen lately, anyway."
    The two of them rode through the knee-high grass toward the broad stream of frightened refugees fleeing southward. "Garion," Silk said, reining in his horse, "isn't that a Sendar—the one pushing the wheelbarrow?"
    Garion shielded his eyes from the rain and peered at the sturdy fellow Silk had pointed out. "He sort of looks like a Sendar," he agreed. "What would a Sendar be doing down here in Cthol Murgos?"
    "Why don't we go ask him? Sendars love to gossip, so he can probably give us some idea of what's happening." The little man walked his horse over until he was riding beside the stout man with the wheelbarrow. "Morning, friend," he said pleasantly. "You're a long way from home, aren't you?"
    The stout man set down his barrow and eyed Silk's green Nyissan robe apprehensively. "I'm not a slave," he declared, "so don't get any ideas."
    "This?" Silk laughed, plucking at the front of the robe. "Don't worry, friend, we're not Nyissans. We just found these on some bodies back there a ways. We thought they might be a help if we happened to run into somebody official. What in the world are you doing in Cthol Murgos?"
    "Running," the Sendar said ruefully, "just like all the rest of this rabble. Didn't you hear about what's been happening?"
    "No. We've been out of touch."
    The stout man lifted the handles of his barrow again and trudged along the grassy shoulder of the road. "There's a whole Mallorean army marching west out of Gorut," he said. "They burned the town I lived in and killed half the people. They didn't even bother with Rak Cthaka, so that's where we're all going. I'm going to see if I can find a sea captain who's going in the general direction of Sendaria. For some reason, I'm suddenly homesick."
    "You've been living in a Murgo town?" Silk asked with some surprise.
    The fellow made a face. "It wasn't altogether by choice," he replied. "I had some trouble with the law in Tolnedra when I was there on business ten years ago and I took passage on board a merchantman to get out of the country. The captain was a scoundrel; when my money ran out, he sailed off and left me on the wharf at Rak Cthaka. I drifted on up to a town on the north side of the lake. They let me stay because I was willing to do things that are beneath Murgo dignity, but were too important to trust a slave to do. It was sort of degrading, but it was a living. Anyway, a couple days ago the Malloreans marched through. When they left, there wasn't a single building standing."
    "How did you escape?" Silk asked him.
    "I hid under a haystack until dark. That's when I joined this mob." He glanced over at the crowd of refugees slogging through the ankle-deep mud of the road. "Isn't that pathetic? They don't even have sense enough to spread out and walk on the grass. You certainly wouldn't see soldiers doing that, let me tell you."
    "You've had some military experience, then?"
    "I most certainly have," the stout man replied proudly. "I was a sergeant in Princess Ce'Nedra's army. I was at Thull Mardu with her."
    "I missed that one," Silk told him with aplomb. "I was busy someplace else. Are there any Malloreans between here and the Great Southern Forest?"
    "Who