Sorceress of Darshiva

see anything she wants them to see. That explains it, I guess."
    "Did she say anything else?" Silk asked him intently.
    "Only that this New God of hers will appear before the summer is gone."
    "Let's hope she's right," Silk said. "That might put an end to all this turmoil."
    "I doubt it," the fat man said moodily. "I think we're in for a long siege of trouble."
    "Was she alone?" Garion asked him.
    "'No. She had her bogus emperor with her and that white-eyed Grolim from the temple at Hemil—the one who follows her around like a tame ape.''
    "Anyone else?"
    "Only a little boy. I don't know where she picked him up. Just before she left, she told us that the army of Urvon the Disciple was coming and she ordered the whole populace to go out and block his path. Then she left, going that way." He pointed off toward the west. "Well, my friends and I, we all sort of looked at each other for a while, and then everybody grabbed up whatever he could carry and bolted. We're not stupid enough to throw ourselves in the path of an advancing army, no matter who orders us to."
    "How is it that you stayed behind?" Silk asked him curiously.
    "This is my shop," the fat man replied in a plaintive tone. "I’ve worked all my life to build it up. I wasn't going to run off and let the riffraff from the gutters loot it. Now they're all gone, so it's safe for me to make a run for it with whatever I can salvage. A lot of what I'll have to leave behind won't keep anyway, so I'm not losing very much."
    "Oh," Silk said, his pointed nose twitching with interest. "What is it you deal in, friend?"
    "General merchandise." The fat man looked critically at his workmen. "Stack those boxes closer together!" he shouted. "There's still a lot left to go in that wagon!"
    "What sort of general merchandise?" Silk pressed.
    "Household goods, tools, bolts of cloth, foodstuffs—that sort of thing."
    "Well, now," Silk said, his nose twitching even more violently. "Maybe you and I can do some business. My friends and I have a long way to go, and we're running a little short of supplies. You mentioned foodstuffs. What sort of foodstuffs?"
    The merchant's eyes narrowed. "Bread, cheese, butter, dried fruit, hams. I’ve even got a fresh side of beef. I warn you, though, those things are going to cost you very dearly. Food's scarce in this part of Darshiva."
    "Oh," Silk said blandly, "I don't think they'll cost all that much—unless you plan to wait here to greet Urvon when he arrives."
    The merchant stared at him in consternation.
    "You see, my friend," Silk continued, "you have to leave—and very soon, I think. That wagon of yours won't carry everything you've got in your shop, and your team isn't going to be able to move very fast—not the way you're loading the wagon. My friends and I have fast horses, though, so we can afford to wait a little longer. After you leave, we might just browse through your shop for the things we need."
    The merchant's face went suddenly very pale. "That's robbery," he gasped.
    "Why, yes," Silk admitted blandly, "I believe some people do call it that." He paused for a moment to allow the merchant time to understand the situation fully.
    The fat man's face grew anguished. Then Silk sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm cursed with a delicate conscience. I can't bear the thought of cheating an honest man—unless I absolutely have to." He lifted a pouch from his belt, opened it, and peered inside "I seem to have eight or ten silver half-crowns in here," he said. "What would you say to five of them for everything my friends and I can carry?"
    "That's outrageous!" the merchant spluttered.
    With some show of regret, Silk closed the pouch and tucked it back under his belt. "I guess we'll just have to wait, then. Do you think you and your men will be much longer?"
    "You're robbing me!" the merchant wailed.
    "No, not really. The way I see it, what we have here is a buyer's market. That's my offer, friend—five silver half-crowns. Take it or leave it. We'll wait over there across the street while you decide." He turned his horse and led Garion and Zakath toward a large house on the other side of the street.
    Zakath was trying very hard to stifle a laugh as they dismounted. "We're not quite done yet," Silk muttered. "It needs just one more little touch." He went up to the locked door of the house, reached into his boot, and took out a long, pointed needle. He probed at the lock for a moment, and it snapped open with a solid-sounding click. "We'll need