Pawn of Prophecy

toward each other?"
    "It's very sad," Durnik said. "Silk told me about it yesterday. Barak fell in love with her when they were both very young, but she was highborn and didn't take him very seriously."
    "How does it happen that they're married, then?" Garion asked.
    "It was her family's idea," Durnik explained. "After Barak became the Earl of Trellheim, they decided that a marriage would give them a valuable connection. Merel objected, but it didn't do her any good. Silk said that Barak found out after they were married that she's really a very shallow person, but of course it was too late by then. She does spiteful things to try to hurt him, and he spends as much time away from home as possible."
    "Do they have any children?" Garion asked.
    "Two," Durnik said. "Both girls - about five and seven. Barak loves them very much, but he doesn't get to see them very often."
    Garion sighed. "I wish there was something we could do," he said.
    "We can't interfere between a man and his wife," Durnik said. "Things like that just aren't done."
    "Did you know that Silk's in love with his aunt?" Garion said without stopping to think.
    "Garion!" Durnik's voice was shocked. "That's an unseemly thing to say."
    "It's true all the same," Garion said defensively. "Of course she's not really his aunt, I guess. She's his uncle's second wife. It's not exactly like she was his real aunt."
    "She's married to his uncle," Durnik said firmly. "Who made up this scandalous story?"
    "Nobody made it up," Garion said. "I was watching his face when he talked to her yesterday. It's pretty plain the way he feels about her."
    "I'm sure you just imagined it," Durnik said disapprovingly. He stood up. "Let's look around. That will give us something better to do than sit here gossiping about our friends. It's really not the sort of thing decent men do."
    "All right," Garion agreed quickly, a little embarrassed. He stood up and followed Durnik across the smoky hall and out into the corridor. "Let's have a look at the kitchen," Garion suggested.
    "And the smithy, too," Durnik said.
    The royal kitchens were enormous. Entire oxen roasted on spits, and whole flocks of geese simmered in lakes of gravy. Stews bubbled in cartsized cauldrons, and battalions of loaves were marched into ovens big enough to stand in. Unlike Aunt Pol's well-ordered kitchen at Faldor's farm, everything here was chaos and confusion. The head cook was a huge man with a red face who screamed orders which everyone ignored. There were shouts and threats and a great deal of horseplay. A spoon heated in a fire and left where an unsuspecting cook would pick it up brought shrieks of mirth, and one man's hat was stolen and deliberately thrown into a seething pot of stew.
    "Let's go someplace else, Durnik," he said. "This isn't what I expected at all."
    Durnik nodded. "Mistress Pol would never tolerate all of this foolishness," he agreed disapprovingly.
    In the hallways outside the kitchen a maid with reddish-blond hair and a pale green dress cut quite low at the bodice loitered.
    "Excuse me," Durnik said to her politely, "could you direct us to the smithy?"
    She looked him up and down boldly. "Are you new here?" she asked. "I haven't seen you before."
    "We're just visiting," Durnik said.
    "Where are you from?" she demanded.
    "Sendaria," Durnik said.
    "How interesting. Perhaps the boy could run this errand for you, and you and I could talk for a while." Her look was direct.
    Durnik coughed, and his ears reddened. "The smithy?" he asked again.
    The maid laughed lightly. "In the courtyard at the end on this corridor," she said. "I'm usually around here someplace. I'm sure you can find me when you finish your business with the smith."
    "Yes," Durnik said, "I'm sure I could. Come along, Garion."
    They went on down the corridor and out into a snowy inner courtyard.
    "Outrageous!" Durnik said stiffly, his ears still flaming. "The girl has no sense of propriety whatsoever. I'd report her if I knew to whom."
    "Shocking," Garion agreed, secretly amused by Durnik's embarrassment. They crossed the courtyard through the lightly sifting snow.
    The smithy was presided over by a huge, black-bearded man with forearms as big as Garion's thighs. Durnik introduced himself and the two were soon happily talking shop to the accompaniment of the ringing blows of the smith's hammer. Garion noticed that instead of the plows, spades, and hoes that would fill a Sendarian smithy, the walls here were hung with swords, spears,