Sorceress of Darshiva

whatever force Zandramas had left."
    "Good plan," Silk said.
    "Unfortunately, it didn't work. We've got Darshiva cut off, but one of Zandramas' underlings went down into Gandahar and hired a sizable body of elephant cavalry." Atesca frowned. "I think I'll speak with his Imperial Majesty about that. I don't really object to mercenaries, but the elephant herders of Gandahar are just a bit unselective when it comes to hiring themselves out. At any rate, there was a battle in central Peldane yesterday, and elephants did what elephants usually do. Urvon's army fled, but instead of running back toward Celanta, they outflanked the elephants and the rest of the Darshivan army, and they're driving straight toward the Magan. If they get across into Darshiva, I'll have my work cut out for me. I'll have demons and Grolims and Chandim and Hounds and elephants and Karands and the whole army of Darshiva to deal with." He sighed mournfully. "This is not, I'm afraid, going to be the short, easy campaign I'd anticipated."
    "Why not just let Urvon and Zandramas fight it out?" Silk suggested.
    "Policy, Prince Kheldar. The Emperor does not want to appear timid—or powerless—and he most certainly doesn't want any army in Mallorea except his own to win any kind of a victory. It sets a bad precedent and it might give others certain ideas. Mallorea is not as monolithic a society as it might appear from the outside. Overwhelming imperial force is the only thing that holds us together."
    "I approve of the reasoning," Silk agreed. "Stability is good for business."
    "Speaking of that," Atesca said. "One of these days you and I are going to have to have a long talk about beans."
    "Are you buying or selling, General Atesca?" Silk asked impudently.
    "Let's get down to cases, gentlemen," Polgara said. "General Atesca, what are the Emperor's plans concerning us?"
    "That's for him to decide, my Lady," Atesca replied. "His Majesty doesn't always confide in me. He was, however, quite distressed about the way you chose to abuse his hospitality in Mal Zeth."
    "He knew where we were going," Garion said flatly, "and why."
    "That's likely to be one of the things he'll want to discuss with your Majesty. It's possible that the two of you might be able to work out an accommodation of some kind."
    "Possible, but not very probable."
    "That's up to his Imperial Majesty, isn't it?"
    The fog had lifted, but the sky over Darshiva was heavily overcast. As Garion stood in the bow of Atesca's ship, he caught a scent that was hauntingly familiar. It was a compound of damp rust, stagnant water, and the musty smell of fungus. He peered ahead and saw a forest composed of dead white snags. His heart sank.
    Atesca quietly joined him. "I hope your Majesty isn't offended with me," he said. "I seem to be making a habit of apprehending you and your friends."
    "You're only following orders, General," Garion said shortly. "My quarrel is with your Emperor, not with you."
    "You're a very tolerant man, your Majesty."
    "Not really, General, but I don't waste my time holding grudges against people who are only doing what they're told to do."
    Atesca looked toward the Darshivan shore, less than a mile away. "I expect that overcast will burn off by noon," he said, smoothly changing the subject.
    "I wouldn't count on it, Atesca," Garion said somberly. "Did you ever visit Cthol Mishrak?"
    "Military people don't have much reason to visit uninhabited ruins, your Majesty."
    "Cthol Mishrak wasn't uninhabited," Garion told him. "The Chandim were there, and the Hounds, and other things I can't even put names to."
    "Religious fanatics," Atesca shrugged. "They do things for strange reasons. I'm told it was an unhealthy sort of place."
    Garion pointed at the Darshivan shore. "You're looking at another one, I'm afraid. I know that Melcenes are almost as skeptical as Tolnedrans, so I don't know how much you'll believe of what I'm going to tell you. Do you smell that peculiar odor in the air?"
    Atesca sniffed, then wrinkled his nose. "Not very pleasant, is it?"
    "Cthol Mishrak smelled exactly the same way. I'd guess that the cloud cover over Darshiva has been there for a dozen years at least."
    "I find that a bit hard to accept."
    "Look at those trees." Garion pointed at the snags. "What do you think it would take to kill a whole forest?"
    "Some kind of disease, I suppose."
    "No, General. Seedlings would have sprouted by now, and there's not even any undergrowth there. The trees died from lack of