Sorceress of Darshiva

sunlight. The only thing growing out there now is fungus. It rains from time to time, and the rain water collects in pools. The sun doesn't come out to evaporate the water, so it just lies there and stagnates. That's a part of what you're smelling."
    "I seem to smell rust, too. Where's that coming from?"
    "I really don't know. At Cthol Mishrak it came from the ruins of Torak's iron tower. Darshiva's shrouded in perpetual gloom because it's the home of the Child of Dark."
    "I've heard the term before. Who is this Child of Dark?"
    "Zandramas—at least for the time being. Are you really sure you want to land your troops there?"
    "I have my orders, King Belgarion. My troops are well trained. They'll build a fortified enclave on that shore whether the sun shines or not. Then we'll wait for the Emperor. He has a number of decisions to make—not the least of which is what he's going to do about you."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    They waited on board Atesca's ship while the soldiers went ashore and began to build the enclave. The Mallorean troops were quite nearly as efficient as the legions of Imperial Tolnedra, and in a very short period of time, they had cleared several acres of ground and erected a neat, orderly city of tents. It was surrounded on the inland side by breastworks, catapults, and a deep ditch bristling with sharpened stakes. A palisade of sharpened poles lined the river's edge, and a number of floating docks extended out into the water. It was mid afternoon when Garion and the others disembarked and were escorted to a large, guarded pavilion in the center of the enclave and politely, but firmly, asked to remain inside.
    "Have you been able to contact Beldin?" Silk asked Belgarath in a whisper.
    The old man nodded. "He's working on something."
    "I hope he doesn't take too long," the little man said. "I expect that once Zakath gets here, he'll decide that we need slightly more secure quarters—probably a place involving stout walls and locked doors." He made a sour face. "I hate jails."
    "Don't you think you're exaggerating, Prince Kheldar?" Ce'Nedra asked. "Zakath's always behaved like a perfect gentleman."
    "Oh, of course," he replied with heavy sarcasm. "Why don't you tell that to all those Murgos he crucified on the plains of Hagga? He can be polite when it doesn't inconvenience him too much, but we've seriously irritated him. If we're not gone by the time he gets here, I expect he'll show us just how irritated he really is."
    "You're wrong, Prince Kheldar," Eriond said gravely. "He just doesn't know what he's supposed to do yet, that's all."
    "What's that supposed to mean?"
    "Back in Cthol Murgos, Cyradis told him that he was going to come to a crossroads in his life. This is it, I think. Once he makes the right choice, we can be friends again."
    "Just like that?"
    "More or less, yes."
    "Polgara, would you please make him stop that?"
    The tent was familiar. It was a Mallorean officer's pavilion with the usual red carpeting, and furniture which could be easily disassembled. They had been housed in this same kind of pavilion many times in the past. Garion looked around without much interest, then he sprawled on a bench.
    "What's the matter, Garion?" Ce'Nedra asked, coming over to sit beside him.
    "Isn't it obvious? Why don't they just leave us alone?"
    "I think you worry too much," she told him. She reached out and touched his forehead with one little finger. "Your friend in there isn't going to let anything happen that's not supposed to happen, so stop brooding about this. We're supposed to go to Kell, and Zakath couldn't stop us, even if he brought his whole army back from Cthol Murgos and piled them in our path."
    "You're taking this all awfully calmly."
    "I have to believe, Garion," she replied with a little sigh. "If I didn't, I'd go insane." She leaned forward and kissed him. "Now get that grumpy look off your face. You're starting to look exactly like Belgarath."
    "Of course I am. He's my grandfather, after all."
    "The resemblance shouldn't start to show up for several thousand years yet, though," she said tartly.
    Two soldiers brought them a supper consisting of standard military rations. Silk opened one of the metal pots and looked inside. He sighed. "I was afraid of that."
    "What's the trouble, Kheldar?" Sadi asked him.
    "Beans," Silk replied, pointing at the pot.
    "I thought you liked beans."
    "Not to eat, I don't."
    Because they had not slept the previous night, they retired early. Garion tossed