King of The Murgos

him for a while."
    "Pol, we need to get back on the other side of the river before dawn."
    "I won't be too long, father, but I have to go to the palace."
    "The palace?"
    "Zandramas went to Cherek—where no Angarak has been allowed since the days of Bear-shoulders. Salmissra arranged that and she also engineered the escape from the Isle of the Winds after the abduction of Ce'Nedra's baby. I want to know why."
    "We're a bit pressed for time, Polgara. Can't this wait?"
    "I don't think so, father. I think we need to know if there were any other arrangements. I'd rather not be surprised by a battalion or so of Nyissan troops lurking in the jungle along the trail we're following."
    He frowned. "You might be right."
    "You're going to the palace?" Garion asked her.
    "I must, dear."
    "All right," he said, squaring his shoulders. "Then I'm going with you."
    She gave him a long, steady look. "You're going to insist, I take it?"
    He nodded. "Yes, Aunt Pol, I think I am." He said it quite decisively.
    She sighed. "How quickly they grow up," she said. Then she turned to Issus. "Do you know a back way to the palace?" she asked him.
    The one-eyed man nodded.
    "Will you show us?"
    "Of course," he replied. He paused. "We can discuss the price later."
    "Price?"
    "Nothing for nothing, Lady," he shrugged. "Shall we go?"
    It was nearly midnight when Issus led Polgara and Garion out the rear door of Droblek's house into a narrow alleyway that smelled strongly of rotting garbage. They made their way furtively through a twisting series of similar alleys, sometimes passing through the lower corridors of houses to move from one alley to another.
    "How do you know which houses have unlocked doors?" Garion whispered as they emerged from a tall, narrow house in a run-down quarter of the city.
    "It's my business to know," Issus replied. He straightened and looked around. "We're getting close to the palace," he told them. "The streets and alleys in this part of the city are patrolled. Wait here a minute." He stealthily crossed the alley, opened a recessed door, and slipped inside. A couple of moments later he emerged, carrying two silk robes, a pair of lances, and a couple of brass helmets. "We'll wear these," he said to Garion, "and if you don't mind, Lady, pull your hood farther over your face. If anybody stops us, let me do the talking."
    Garion pulled on the robe and helmet and took one of the lances from the assassin.
    "Tuck your hair up under the helmet," Issus instructed. Then he stepped out boldly, trusting to their disguises rather than to stealth.
    They had no sooner entered the next street than they were stopped by a half-dozen armed men.
    "What's your business?" the man in charge of the patrol! demanded.
    "We're escorting a visitor to the palace," Issus replied.
    "What kind of visitor?"
    Issus gave him a disgusted look. "You don't really want to interfere, corporal," he said. "The one she's visiting wouldn't like it."
    "And who is that?"
    "Now, that's a very stupid question, man. If this woman's friend finds out that I told you, we'll probably both wind up in the river."
    "How do I know that you're telling me the truth?"
    "You don't—but do you really want to take a chance on it?"
    The corporal's expression grew faintly nervous as he thought about it. "You'd better move along," he said finally.
    "I was sure you'd see it my way," Issus observed. He roughly took hold of Polgara's arm. "Move, you," he commanded.
    When they reached the end of the street, Garion glanced back. The soldiers were still watching them, but made no move to follow.
    "I hope you aren't offended, Lady," Issus apologized.
    "No," Polgara replied. "You're a very resourceful fellow, Issus."
    "That's what I get paid for. We go this way."
    The wall of Salmissra's palace was very high, constructed of great roughhewn stone blocks that had stood for eons in this dank city by the river. Issus led them into the dense shadows under the wall and to a small, iron-barred gate. He fumbled with the lock for a moment, then carefully swung the gate open. "Let's go," he muttered.
    The palace was a maze of dimly lighted corridors, but Issus led them confidently, moving along as if he were on an important mission. As they approached the broader, somewhat more brightly lighted hallways near the center of the palace, a grotesquely made-up eunuch lurched by, his legs stiff and his eyes unfocused. His mouth was fixed in a stupefied grin, and his body twitched spasmodically as he stumbled