Pawn of Prophecy

Brendig said. "An elderly man with white hair and beard. I'm informed that you have such a one among your servants."
    "Is the man a criminal?" she asked.
    "The king didn't say so, your Grace," he told her. "I was only told that the man was to be seized and delivered to the palace at Sendarand, all who are with him as well."
    "I am seldom at court," Aunt Pol said. "It's most unlikely that any of my servants would be of such interest to the king."
    "Your Grace," Brendig said delicately, "in addition to my duties in one of the king's own regiments, I also have the honor to hold a baronetcy. I've been at court all my life and must confess that I've never seen you there. A lady of your striking appearance would not be soon forgotten."
    Aunt Pol inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment of the compliment. "I suppose I should have guessed, my Lord Brendig," she said. "Your manners are not those of a common soldier."
    "Moreover, your Grace," he continued, "I'm familiar with all the holdings of the kingdom. If I'm not mistaken, the district of Erat is an earldom, and the Earl of Erat is a short, stout man - my great uncle incidentally. There has been no duchy in that part of Sendaria since the kingdom was under the dominion of the Wacite Arends."
    Aunt Pol fixed him with an icy stare.
    "My Lady," Brendig said almost apologetically, "the Wacite Arends were exterminated by their Asturian cousins in the last years of the third millenium. There has been no Wacite nobility for over two thousand years."
    "I thank you for the history lesson, my Lord," Aunt Pol said coldly.
    "All of that, however, is hardly the issue, is it?" Brendig continued. "I am bidden by my king to seek out the man of whom I spoke. Upon your honor, Lady, do you know such a man?"
    The question hung in the air between them, and Garion, knowing in sudden panic that they were caught, almost shouted for Barak.
    Then the door to the next chamber opened, and Mister Wolf stepped into the room. "There's no need to continue with this," he said. "I'm the one you're looking for. What does Fulrach of Sendaria want with me?"
    Brendig looked at him without seeming surprise. "His Majesty did not see fit to take me into his confidence," he said. "He will explain it himself, I have no doubt, as soon as we reach the palace at Sendar."
    "The sooner the better then," Wolf said. "When do we leave?"
    "We depart for Sendar directly after breakfast in the morning," Brendig said. "I will accept your word that none of you will attempt to leave this inn during the night. I'd prefer not to subject the Duchess of Erat to the indignity of confinement at the local barracks. The cells there are most uncomfortable, I'm told."
    "You have my word," Mister Wolf said.
    "Thank you," Brendig said, bowing slightly. "I must also advise you that I am obliged to post guards about this inn - for your protection, of course."
    "Your solicitude overwhelms us, my Lord," Aunt Pol said dryly.
    "Your servant, my Lady," Brendig said with a formal bow. And then he turned and left the room.
    The polished door was only wood; Garion knew that, but as it closed behind the departing Brendig it seemed to have that dreadful, final clang of the door to a dungeon.

Chapter Eleven
    THEY WERE NINE DAYS on the coast road from Camaar to the capital at Sendar, though it was only fifty-five leagues. Captain Brendig measured their pace carefully, and his detachment of soldiers was arranged in such fashion that even the thought of escape was impossible. Although it had stopped snowing, the road was still difficult, and the wind which blew in off the sea and across the broad, snow-covered salt marshes was raw and chill. They stayed each night in the evenly spaced Sendarian hostels which stood like mileposts along that uninhabited stretch of coast. The hostels were not quite so well appointed as were their Tolnedran counterparts along the Great North Road, but they were at least adequate. Captain Brendig seemed solicitous about their comfort, but he also posted guards each night.
    On the evening of the second day, Garion sat near the fire with Durnik, staring moodily into the flames. Durnik was his oldest friend, and Garion felt a desperate need for friendship just then.
    "Durnik," he said finally.
    "Yes, lad?"
    "Have you ever been in a dungeon?"
    "What could I have done to be put in a dungeon?"
    "I thought that you might have seen one sometime."
    "Honest folk don't go near such places," Durnik said.
    "I've heard they're