King of The Murgos

Delvor and Beldin returned, each with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "It was a truly masterful performance, Master Beldin," Delvor congratulated the little hunchback as they entered.
    "Child's play." Beldin shrugged deprecatingly. "People inevitably believe that a deformed body houses a defective brain. I've used that to my advantage many times."
    "I'm sure they'll tell us what this is all about eventually," Silk said.
    "It wasn't too complicated, Silk," Delvor told him. "You'll be able to leave now without any worries about that curious Mallorean."
    "Oh?"
    "He was trying to buy information," Delvor shrugged, "so we sold him some, and he left—at a full gallop."
    "What sort of information did you sell him?"
    "It went sort of like this," Beldin said. He stooped a bit more, deliberately exaggerating his deformity, and his face took on an expression of vapid imbecility. "An' it please yer honor," he said in a squeaky voice dripping with servile stupidity, "I hears that you wants to find some people an' that you says you'll pay to know where they be. I seed the people yer lookin fer, an' I kin tell you where they was—if you gimme enough money. How much was you willin' to pay?"
    Delvor laughed delightedly. "Naradas swallowed it whole. I took Master Beldin to him and told him that I'd found someone who knew about the people he was looking for. We agreed to a price, and then your friend here gulled him completely."
    "Which way did you send him?" Belgarath asked.
    "North." Beldin shrugged. "I told him that I'd seen you camped by the roadside up in the Arendish forest—that one of the members of your party had fallen sick and that you'd stopped to nurse him back to health."
    "Wasn't he at all suspicious?" Silk asked.
    Delvor shook his head. "The thing that makes people suspicious is help that comes for no particular reason. I gave Naradas every reason to believe that I was sincere. I cheated Master Beldin—outrageously. Naradas gave him a few silver coins for his information. My price, however, was much higher."
    "Brilliant," Silk murmured admiringly.
    "There's something you ought to know about White Eyes, though," Beldin told Belgarath. "He's a Mallorean Grolim. I didn't probe into him too hard, because I didn't want him to catch what I was doing, but I was able to get that much. He's got a great deal of power, so watch out for him."
    "Did you find out whom he's working for?"
    Beldin shook his head. "I pulled back as soon as I found out what he was." The hunchback's face grew bleak. "Be careful about this one, Belgarath. He's very dangerous."
    Belgarath's face grew grim. "So am I, Beldin," he said.
    "I know, but there are some things you won't do. Naradas doesn't feel that kind of restraint."

CHAPTER FOUR
    They rode south under clearing skies for the next six days. A cold wind bent the winter-browned grass at the sides of the road, and the rolling plain of southern Arendia lay dead and sere beneath a chill blue sky. They passed an occasional mud-and-wattle village where ragged serfs clenched themselves to endure yet another winter and more infrequently a rearing stone keep where a proud Mimbrate baron kept a watchful eye on his neighbors.
    The Great West Road, like all roads that formed a part of the Tolnedran highway system, was patrolled by scarlet-cloaked Imperial Legionnaires. Garion and his friends also encountered an occasional merchant traveling northward with wary eyes and accompanied by burly hirelings whose hands never strayed far from their weapons.
    They reached the River Arend on a frosty midmorning and looked across the sparkling ford at the Forest of Vordue in northern Tolnedra. "Did you want to stop at Vo Mimbre?" Silk asked Belgarath.
    The old man shook his head. "Mandorallen and Lelldorin have probably already advised Korodullin about what happened in Drasnia, and I'm not really in the mood for three or four days of speeches filled with thee's and thou's and forasmuches. Besides, I want to get to Tol Honeth as soon as possible."
    As they splashed through the shallow waters of the ford, Garion remembered something. "Will we have to stop at that customs station?" he asked.
    "Naturally," Silk replied. "Everybody has to go through customs—except for licensed smugglers, of course." He looked over at Belgarath. "Do you want me to handle things when we get there?"
    "Just don't get too creative."
    "Nothing could have been further from my mind, Belgarath. All I want is a chance to try these out." He