Sorceress of Darshiva

owner of the pig went on, "is that in this part of the country, them Grolims always has troops with 'em. The ones as follows Zandramas, they got the army of the king of Voresebo with 'em. The old king, he didn't hold with none of this religious stuff, but he got hisself de-posed. His son decided the old man was gettin' too silly to run the country, so he set his pa aside and took the throne for hisself. The son's a squinty-eyed sort and he's lookin' to put hisself on the side most likely to win. He's throwed in with Zandramas, but then this Urvon fella, he comes along, and he's got this whole army out of Jenno and Ganesia and folks in armor and some real ugly big black dogs with him—not to mention all the Grolims. It's mean down there on the plains, friend. They're killin' and burnin' and sacrificin' prisoners on this altar or that. If it was me, I'd go a long way around all that foolishness."
    "I wish I could, friend," Garion told him sincerely. "We heard that there were demons up in Jenno—off toward Callida. Have any of them shown up around here?"
    "Demons?" The Karand shuddered, making the sign against evil. "None that I ever heard tell of. If I had, me and my peg would already be so far back in the mountains that they'd have to ship daylight in to us by pack train."
    Despite himself, Garion found that he liked this gabbly old fellow. There was an almost musical flow to his illiterate speech, a kind of warm inclusiveness that paid no attention to any kind of social distinctions, and a shrewd, even penetrating, assessment of the chaos around him. It was almost with regret that Garion briefly acknowledged Silk's jerk of the head in the direction of the door. Gently, he removed the pig's head from his lap. The animal made a small, discontented sound.
    "I'm afraid I'm going to have to go now," he told the Karand as he rose to his feet.
    "I thank you for your company—and the loan of your pig."
    "Peg," the Karand corrected.
    "Peg," Garion agreed. He stopped the serving man who was going by and handed him a coin. "Give my friend and his peg whatever they'd like," he said.
    "Why, thank you, my young friend." The old Karand grinned expansively.
    "My pleasure," Garion said. He looked down. "Have a nice day, pig," he added.
    The pig grunted rather distantly and clattered around the table to his master.
    Ce'Nedra wrinkled her nose as he approached the shady spot where the ladies had been waiting. "What on earth have you been doing, Garion?" she asked. "You smell awful."
    "I was getting acquainted with a pig."
    "A pig?" she exclaimed. "Whatever for?"
    "You almost had to have been there."
    As they rode along exchanging the information they had gleaned, it became evident that the owner of the pig had offered a surprisingly complete and succinct perception of the situation in Voresebo. Garion repeated the conversation, complete with dialect.
    "He didn't really talk that way, did he?" Velvet giggled incredulously.
    "Why, no'm," Garion said, exaggerating just a bit, "when you get right down to the core of it, he didn't. There was 'theses' and 'thises' and 'themses' that I can't quite get the hang of. Me and the pig got along good, though."
    "Garion," Polgara said a bit distantly, "do you suppose you could ride back there a ways?" She gestured toward the rear of the column. ' 'Several hundred yards or so, I'd say.''
    "Yes, ma'am," he said. He reined Chretienne in. The big gray horse, he noted, also seemed a bit offended by something in the air.
    By general request, Garion bathed that night in a shockingly cold mountain stream. When he returned, shivering, to the fire, Belgarath looked at him and said, "I think you'd better put your armor back on. If half of what your friend with the pig said is true, you might need it."
    "Peg," Garion corrected.
    "What?"
    "Never mind."
    The next morning dawned clear and definitely chilly. The mail coat felt clammy even through the padded tunic Garion always wore under it, and it was heavy and uncomfortable. Durnik cut him a lance from a nearby thicket and leaned it against a tree near where the horses were picketed.
    Belgarath came back from a small hilltop where he had been surveying the plains below. "From what I can see, the turmoil is fairly general down there, so there isn't much point in trying to avoid people. The quicker we get past Voresebo, the better, so we might as well ride straight on through. We'll try to talk our way out of any difficulties first; and, if that doesn't work,