King of The Murgos

bleak. Once again, Zandramas had rewarded those who had aided her by killing them. He kicked his mount into a loping canter and rode back across the foggy meadows lying between the sea and the dark forest toward the village.
    It was nearly noon when he reached the house Vard had provided for them, and he swung down out of his saddle, controlling his excitement as best he could.
    "Well?" Belgarath, who sat before the fire with a mug in his hand, asked as Garion entered the room.
    "The trail's about a league to the south."
    Polgara, seated at the table, looked up quickly from the piece of parchment she had been examining. "Are you sure?" she asked.
    "The Orb is." Garion unfastened his cloak. "Oh—I had another visit from our friend." He tapped his forehead. "He told me that Zandramas left the island about a week ago and that she's going to Mallorea. That's about all I could get out of him. Where's Ce'Nedra? I want to tell her that we're getting closer."
    "She's asleep," Polgara said, carefully folding the parchment.
    "Is that part of one of those books Grandfather's been looking for?" he asked.
    "No, dear. It's the recipe for that soup we had at supper last night." She turned to Belgarath. "Well, father? Do we take up the trail again?"
    He thought about it, staring absently into the fire dancing on the hearth. "I'm not sure, Pol," he answered finally. "We were deliberately brought here to this island for something, and I don't think that locating the trail was the only reason. I think we ought to stay here for another day or so."
    "We've gained a great deal of time on Zandramas, father," she reminded him. "Why waste it by just sitting in one place?"
    "Call it a hunch, Pol. I've got a very strong feeling that we're supposed to wait here for something—something fairly important."
    "I think it's a mistake, father."
    "That's your privilege, Pol. I've never told you what to think."
    "Only what to do," she added tartly.
    "That's my privilege. It's a father's duty to guide His children. I'm sure you understand."
    The door opened, and Silk and Velvet came in out of the sunless noon. "Did you find the trail?" Silk asked, removing his cloak.
    Garion nodded. "She came ashore a league or so down the beach. Then she sank the boat that brought her. It's lying on the bottom with the full crew aboard, about fifty yards from shore."
    "She's running true to form, then," Silk noted.
    "What have you been up to this morning?" Garion asked him.
    "Snooping."
    "The term is 'intelligence gathering,' Kheldar," Velvet said primly, also removing her cloak and smoothing the front of her dress.
    "It amounts to the same thing, doesn't it?"
    "Of course, but 'snooping' has such a nasty ring to it."
    "Did you find out anything?" Garion asked.
    "Not much," Silk admitted, coming to the fire to warm himself. "All these people are terribly polite, but they're very good at evading direct questions. I can tell you one thing, though. This place isn't a real village—at least not in the sense that we understand it. It's all very carefully set up to look crude and rustic, and the people here go through the motions of tending crops and herds, but it's all for show. Their tools show almost no signs of use, and their animals are just a bit too well groomed."
    "What are they doing, then?" Garion asked.
    "I think they spend their time in study," Velvet replied. "I was visiting with one of the women, and there was a sort of a chart on the table in her house, I got a look at it before she put it away. It looked like a map of some constellations— a sort of a picture of the night sky."
    Belgarath grunted. "Astrologers. I've never had much faith in astrology. The stars seem to say something different every quarter-hour or so," He thought about it for a moment. "Back at Prolgu, the Gorim said that these people are Dals— the same as the ones who live in southern Mallorea—and no one has ever been able to figure out what the Dals are up to. They seem to be docile and placid, but I suspect that's only a mask. There are several centers of learning in Dalasia, and I wouldn't be surprised to find out that this place is very similar. Did either of you see anyone wearing a blindfold— the way Cyradis does?"
    "A seer?" Silk said. "I didn't." He looked at Velvet.
    She shook her head.
    "Toth might be able to give us some answers, father," Polgara said. "He seems to be able to communicate with these people in ways that we can't."
    "How do you propose to get answers out of a