King of The Murgos

was drawn into a contemptuous sneer. A deep purple piping marked the edge of her black hood. "So?" she said in a harshly rasping voice. "And how is it that the Dagashi now entrust their messages to foreigners?"
    "I—I thought not to ask, Holy Chabat," the Grolim faltered. "This one claims to be a friend of Jaharb."
    "And you chose not to question him further?" Her harsh voice sank into a menacing whisper, and her eyes bored into the suddenly trembling underpriest. Then her gaze slowly shifted to Sadi. "Say your name," she commanded.
    "I am Ussa of Sthiss Tor, Holy Priestess," he replied. "Jaharb instructed me to present myself to your Hierarch and to give him a message."
    "And what is that message?"
    "Ah—forgive me, Holy Priestess, but I was told that it was for Agachak's ears alone."
    "I am Agachak's ears," she told him, her voice dreadfully quiet. "Nothing reaches his ears that I have not heard first." It was the tone of her voice that made Garion suddenly understand. Although this cruelly scarred woman had somehow risen to a position of power here in the temple, she was still uncertain about that power. She bore her uncertainty like an open wound, and the slightest questioning of her authority roused in her an abiding hatred for whomever doubted her. Fervently he hoped that Sadi realized how extremely dangerous she was.
    "Ah," Sadi said with polished aplomb. "I was not fully aware of the situation here. I was told that Jaharb, Agachak, and King Urgit have reason to want one Kabach transported safely to Rak Hagga. I am the one who is to provide that transportation."
    Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "That is certainly not the entire message," she accused.
    "I'm afraid it is, Noble Priestess, I presume that Agachak will understand its meaning."
    "Jaharb said nothing else to you?"
    "Only that this Kabach is here in the Temple under Agachak's protection."
    "Impossible," she snapped. "I would have known about it if he were. Agachak conceals nothing from me."
    Sadi spread his hands in a mollifying gesture. "I can only repeat what Jaharb told me, Holy Priestess."
    She gnawed at one knuckle, her eyes suddenly filled with doubt. "If you're lying to me, Ussa—or trying to conceal something—I will have your heart ripped out," she threatened.
    "That is the entire message, Holy Priestess. May I now deliver it to your Hierarch?"
    "The Hierarch is at the Drojim Palace, consulting with the High King. He is not likely to return until midnight."
    "Is there someplace where my servants and I could await his return, then?"
    "I have not yet finished with you, Ussa of Sthiss Tor. What is it that this Kabach is to do in Rak Hagga?"
    "Jaharb did not think I needed to know that."
    "I think you're lying to me, Ussa," she said, her fingernails rapping a nervous staccato on the table top.
    "I have no reason to lie to you, Holy Chabat," he protested.
    "Agachak would have told me of this matter. He conceals nothing from me—nothing."
    "Perhaps he overlooked it. It may not be anything of much importance."
    She looked at each of the others in turn then, her eyes hooded beneath her dark brows. She turned a cold gaze on the still-trembling Grolim. "Tell me," she said in a voice scarcely more than a whisper, "how is it that the one over there was permitted to come into my presence bearing a sword?" She pointed at Garion.
    The Priest's face grew stricken. "Forgive me, Chabat," he stammered, "I—I failed to notice the sword."
    "Failed? How can one fail to see so large a weapon? Can you possibly explain that to me?" The Grolim began to tremble even more violently. "Is the sword perhaps invisible? Or is it, perhaps, that my safety is of no concern to you?" Her scarred face grew even more cruel. "Or might it be that you bear me some malice and hoped that this foreigner might decide to slay me?"
    The Grolim's face grew ashen.
    "I think perhaps that I should bring this matter to the attention of Agachak upon his return. He will doubtless wish to speak with you about this invisible sword—at some length."
    The door to the chamber opened and an emaciated Grolim, black-robed, but with his green-lined hood pushed back, entered the chamber. His black hair was greasy and hung in lank tangles about his shoulders. He had the bulging eyes of a fanatic and there was the acrid odor of a long-unwashed body about him. "It's nearly time, Chabat," he announced in a strident voice.
    Chabat's smoldering eyes softened as she looked at him. "Thank you, Sorchak," she