Pawn of Prophecy

soft. He looked Silk up and down, his black eyes probing. "It was a fortunate chance that brought me out today. I am enriched by meeting so illustrious a man."
    Silk bowed politely. "You're too kind, noble sir," he said.
    "I am Asharak of Rak Goska," the Murgo introduced himself. He turned to the Tolnedran. "We can put aside our discussion for a bit, Mingan," he said. "We will accrue much honor by assisting so great a merchant to begin recouping his losses."
    "You're too kind, worthy Asharak," Silk said, bowing again. Garion's mind was shrieking all kinds of warnings, but the Murgo's sharp eyes made it impossible for him to make the slightest gesture to Silk. He kept his face impassive and his eyes dull even as his thoughts raced.
    "I would gladly help you, my friend," Mingan said, "but I have no cargo in Darine at the moment."
    "I'm already committed from Darine to Medalia," Silk said quickly. "Three wagonloads of Cherek iron. And I also have a contract to move furs from Muros to Camaar. It's the fifty leagues from Medalia to Muros that concerns me. Wagons traveling empty earn no profit."
    "Medalia." Mingan frowned. "Let me examine my records. It seems to me that I do have something there." He stepped out of the room. "Your exploits are legendary in the kingdoms of the east, Ambar,"
    Asharak of Rak Goska said admiringly. "When last I left Cthol Murgos there was still a kingly price on your head."
    Silk laughed easily. "A minor misunderstanding, Asharak," he said. "I was merely investigating the extent of Tolnedran intelligence gathering activities in your kingdom. I took some chances I probably shouldn't have, and the Tolnedrans found out what I was up to. The charges they leveled at me were fabrications."
    "How did you manage to escape?" Asharak asked. "The soldiers of King Taur Urgas nearly dismantled the kingdom searching for you."
    "I chanced to meet a Thullish lady of high station," Silk said. "I managed to prevail upon her to smuggle me across the border into Mishrak ac Thull."
    "Ah," Asharak said, smiling briefly. "Thullish ladies are notoriously easy to prevail upon."
    "But most demanding," Silk said. "They expect full repayment for any favors. I found it more difficult to escape from her than I did from Cthol Murgos."
    "Do you still perform such services for your government?" Asharak asked casually.
    "They won't even talk to me," Silk said with a gloomy expression. "Ambar the spice merchant is useful to them, but Ambar the poor wagoneer is quite another thing."
    "Of course," Asharak said, and his tone indicated that he obviously did not believe what he had been told. He glanced briefly and without seeming interest at Garion, and Garion felt a strange shock of recognition. Without knowing exactly how it was that he knew, he was instantly sure that Asharak of Rak Goska had known him for all of his life. There was a familiarity in that glance, a familiarity that had grown out of the dozen times or more that their eyes had met while Garion was growing up and Asharak, muffled always in a black cloak and astride a black horse, had stopped and watched and then moved on. Garion returned the gaze without expression, and the faintest hint of a smile flickered across Asharak's scarred face.
    Mingan returned to the room then. "I have some hams on a farm near Medalia," he announced. "When do you expect to arrive in Muros?"
    "Fifteen or twenty days," Silk told him.
    Mingan nodded. "I'll give you a contract to move my hams to Muros," he offered. "Seven silver nobles per wagonload."
    "Tolnedran nobles or Sendarian?" Silk asked quickly.
    "This is Sendaria, worthy Ambar."
    "We're citizens of the world, noble merchant," Silk pointed out. "Transactions between us have always been in Tolnedran coin."
    Mingan sighed. "You were ever quick, worthy Ambar," he said."Very well, Tolnedran nobles - because we are old friends, and I grieve for your misfortunes."
    "Perhaps we'll meet again, Ambar," Asharak said.
    "Perhaps," Silk said, and he and Garion left the counting room. "Skinflint," Silk muttered when they reached the street. "The rate should have been ten, not seven."
    "What about the Murgo?" Garion asked. Once again there was the familiar reluctance to reveal too much about the strange, unspoken link that had existed between him and the figure that now at least had a name.
    Silk shrugged.
    "He knows I'm up to something, but he doesn't know exactly what just as I know that he's up to something. I've had dozens of meetings like