Pawn of Prophecy

relax.
    Garion's legs quivered with the desire to run. He passed the man with the sword, and his back prickled as he felt that suspicious gaze follow him.
    "Boy," the man said abruptly.
    Garion stopped.
    "Yes, sir?" he said, turning.
    "Do you live here?"
    "Yes, sir," Garion lied, trying to keep his voice from trembling.
    "Is there a tavern hereabouts?"
    Garion had just explored the town, and he spoke confidently.
    "Yes, sir," he said. "You go on up this street to the next corner and turn to your left. There are torches out front. You can't miss it."
    "My thanks," the hooded man said shortly, and walked on up the narrow street.
    "Good night, sir," Garion called after him, made bold by the fact that the danger seemed past.
    The man did not answer, and Garion marched on down to the corner, exhilarated by his brief encounter. Once he was around the corner, however, he dropped the guise of a simple village boy and ran.
    He was breathless by the time he reached the inn and burst into the smoky common room where Mister Wolf and the others sat talking by the fire.
    At the last instant, realizing that to blurt out his news in the common room where others might overhear would be a mistake, he forced himself to walk calmly to where his friends sat. He stood before the fire as if warming himself and spoke in a low tone. "I just saw Brill in the village," he said.
    "Brill?" Silk asked. "Who's Brill?"
    Wolf frowned. "A farmhand with too much Angarak gold in his purse to be entirely honest," he said. Quickly he told Silk and Barak about the adventure in Faldor's stable.
    "You should have killed him," Barak rumbled.
    "This isn't Cherek," Wolf said. "Sendars are touchy about casual killings." He turned to Garion. "Did he see you?" he asked.
    "No," Garion said. "I saw him first and hid in the dark. He met another man and gave him some money, I think. The other man had a sword." Briefly he described the whole incident.
    "This changes things," Wolf said. "I think we'll leave earlier in the morning than we'd planned."
    "It wouldn't be hard to make Brill lose interest in us," Durnik said. "I could probably find him and hit him on the head a few times."
    "Tempting." Wolf grinned. "But I think it might be better just to slip out of town early tomorrow and leave him with no notion that we've ever been here. We don't really have time to start fighting with everyone we run across."
    "I'd like a closer look at this sword-carrying Sendar, however," Silk said, rising. "If it turns out that he's following us, I'd rather know what he looks like. I don't like being followed by strangers."
    "Discreetly," Wolf cautioned.
    Silk laughed. "Have you ever known me to be otherwise?" he asked. "This won't take long. Where did you say that tavern was, Garion?"
    Garion gave him directions.
    Silk nodded, his eyes bright and his long nose twitching. He turned, went quickly across the smoky common room and out into the chill night.
    "I wonder," Barak considered. "If we're being followed this closely, wouldn't it be better to discard the wagons and this tiresome disguise, buy good horses and simply make straight for Muros at a gallop?"
    Wolf shook his head. "I don't think the Murgos are all that certain where we are," he said. "Brill could be here for some other dishonesty, and we'd be foolish to start running from shadows. Better just to move on quietly. Even if Brill is still working for the Murgos, I'd rather just slip away and leave them all beating the bushes here in central Sendaria." He stood up. "I'm going to step upstairs and let Pol know what's happened." He crossed the common room and mounted the stairs.
    "I still don't like it," Barak muttered, his face dark.
    They sat quietly then, waiting for Silk's return. The fire popped, and Garion started slightly. It occurred to him as he waited that he had changed a great deal since they'd left Faldor's farm. Everything had seemed simple then with the world neatly divided into friends and enemies. In the short time since they'd left, however, he'd begun to perceive complexities that he hadn't imagined before. He'd grown wary and distrustful and listened more frequently to that interior voice that always advised caution if not outright guile. He'd also learned not to accept anything at face value. Briefly he regretted the loss of his former innocence, but the dry voice told him that such regret was childish.
    Then Mister Wolf came back down the stairs and rejoined them. After about a half hour Silk returned.