King of The Murgos

people see you."
    They followed him into his warm, well-lighted pavilion, and he carefully tied down the tent flap behind them. The pavilion was very nearly as comfortable-looking as a well-appointed house. There were chairs and divans and a large, polished table set with a splendid supper. The floors and walls were carpeted in blue, oil lamps hung on chains from the ceiling, and in each corner there was an iron brazier filled with glowing coals. Delvor's servants all wore sober livery and they wordlessly took the dripping cloaks from Garion and his friends and carried them through a canvas partition to an adjoining tent.
    "Please," Delvor said politely, "seat yourselves. I took the liberty of having a bit of supper prepared."
    Silk looked around as they all sat down at the table. "Opulent," he noted.
    Delvor shrugged. "A little planning—and quite a bit of money. A tent doesn't have to be uncomfortable."
    "And it's portable," Silk added. "If one has to leave someplace in a hurry, a tent can be folded up and taken along. That's hard to do with a house."
    "There's that, too," Delvor admitted blandly. "Please eat, my friends. I know the kind of accommodations—and meals—that are offered in the inns here in Arendia."
    The supper that had been set for them was as fine as one that might have come to the table of a nobleman. A heap of smoking chops lay on a silver platter, and there were boiled onions and peas and carrots swimming in a delicate cheese sauce. The bread was of the finest white, still steaming hot from the oven, and there was a wide selection of excellent wines.
    "Your cook appears to be a man of some talent, Delvor," Polgara noted.
    "Thank you, my Lady," he replied. "He costs me a few dozen extra crowns a year and he's got a foul temper, but I think he's worth the expense and aggravation."
    "What's this about a curious Angarak merchant?" Belgarath asked, helping himself to a couple of the chops.
    "He rode into the fair a few days ago with a half-dozen servants, but no pack horses or wagons. Their horses looked hard-ridden, as if he and his men had come here in a hurry. Since he arrived, he hasn't done any business at all. He and his people have spent all their time asking questions."
    "Are they specifically asking for us?"
    "Not by name, Ancient One, but the way they've been describing you didn't leave much doubt. He's been offering money for information—quite a bit of money."
    "What kind of Angarak is he?"
    "He claims to be a Nadrak, but if he's a Nadrak, I'm a Thull. I think he's a Mallorean. He's about medium height and build, clean-shaven and soberly dressed. About the only tiling unusual about him is his eyes. They seem to be completely white—except for the pupils. There's no color to them at all."
    Aunt Pol raised her head quickly. "Blind?" she asked.
    "Blind? No, I don't think so. He seems to be able to see where he's going. Why do you ask, my Lady?"
    "What you just described is the result of a very rare condition," she replied. "Most of the people who suffer from it are blind."
    "If we're going to ride out of here without having him about ten minutes behind us, we're going to need some kind of distraction to delay him," Silk said, toying with a crystal goblet. He looked at his friend. "I don't suppose you still have any of those lead coins you hid in that Murgo tent the last time we were here, do you?"
    "I'm afraid not, Silk. I had to go through customs at the Tolnedran border a few months ago. I didn't think it would be wise to have the customs people find that kind of thing in my packs, so I buried them under a tree."
    "Lead coins?" Ce'Nedra said with a puzzled look. "What could you possibly buy with coins made of lead?"
    "They're gilded, your Majesty," Delvor told her. "They look exactly like Tolnedran gold crowns."
    Ce'Nedra's face suddenly went pale. "That's horrible!" she gasped.
    Delvor's face mirrored his puzzlement at the vehemence of her reaction.
    "Her Majesty is a Tolnedran, Delvor," Silk reminded him, "and counterfeit money strikes at the very core of a Tolnedran's being. I think it has something to do with their religion."
    "I don't find that particularly amusing, Prince Kheldar," Ce'Nedra said tartly.
    After supper they talked for a while longer, the comfortable talk of people who are warm and well-fed, and then Delvor led them into an adjoining tent that had been partitioned off into sleeping chambers. Garion fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow and he