Sorceress of Darshiva

it?"
    "That fat man coming this way is Viscount Esca. He's one of the senior members of the Melcene Consortium. He's bound to want to talk business."
    "Tell him we have an appointment."
    "It wouldn't do any good. Time doesn't mean that much to Melcenes."
    "Why, there you are, Prince Kheldar," the fat man in a gray robe said, waddling up to them. "I've been looking all over the city for you."
    "Viscount Esca," Silk said, bowing.
    "My colleagues and I have stood in awe of your recent venture into the commodities market," Esca said admiringly.
    Silk's eyes grew sly, and his long nose twitched. Then he assumed a pained expression. "A blunder, actually, my dear Viscount," he said mournfully. "There's little profit to be made in something as bulky as farm produce.''
    "Have you been keeping abreast of the market?" Esca asked, his face taking on a transparent cast of neutrality, but his eyes filled with undisguised greed.
    "No," Silk lied, "not really. I've been upcountry, and I haven't had the chance to talk with my factor as yet. I left instructions for him to take the first offer that comes along, though—even if we have to take a loss. I need my warehouses, and they're all filled to the rafters with beans."
    "Well, now," Esca said, rubbing his hands together, "I'll speak with my colleagues. Perhaps we can make you a modest offer.'' He had begun to sweat.
    "I couldn't let you do that, Esca. My holdings are virtually worthless. Why don't we let some stranger take the loss? I couldn't really do that to a friend."
    "But, my dear Prince Kheldar," Esca protested in a tone verging on anguish, "we wouldn't really expect to make a vast profit. Our purchase would be more in the nature of long-term speculation."
    "Well," Silk said dubiously, "as long as you're fully aware of the risks involved—"
    "Oh, we are, we are," Esca said eagerly.
    Silk sighed. "All right, then," he said. "Why don't you make your offer to Vetter?
    I'll trust you not to take advantage of my situation."
    "Oh, of course, Kheldar, of course." Esca bowed hastily. "I really must be off now. Pressing business, you understand."
    "Oh," Silk said, "quite."
    Esca waddled off at an unseemly rate of speed.
    "Hooked him!" Silk chortled. "Now I'll let Vetter land him."
    "Don't you ever think about anything else?" Garion asked.
    "Of course I do, but we're busy right now and we didn't have all morning to listen to him babble. Let's move along, shall we?"
    A thought occurred to Garion. "What if Zandramas avoided the city?" he asked.
    "Then we'll get our horses and check the coastline. She had to have landed somewhere."
    As they approached the north gate of Melcena, the press in the street grew noticeably heavier. Carriages and people on horseback began to become more frequent, and the normally sedate citizens began to move more rapidly. Garion and Silk found it necessary to push their way through the throng.
    "Anything?" Silk asked.
    "Not yet," Garion replied, taking a firmer grip on the Orb. Then, as they passed a side street, he felt the now-familiar pulling. "She's been here," he reported. "She came out of that street—or went into it. I can't quite tell which yet." He went a few steps up the side street. The Orb tried to push him back. He turned around and rejoined his rat-faced friend. The steady pull of the Orb drew him toward the gate. "She went out this way," he reported as they reached the arched opening.
    "Good," Silk said. "Let's go back and get the others. And then maybe we can find out why Zandramas came to Melcena."

CHAPTER FIVE
    It seemed somehow that Garion's impatience had communicated itself to Chretienne. The big gray stallion was restive as they left Silk's house and rode into the street and he flicked his ears in irritation as Garion tried to curb him with the reins. Even the sound of his steel-shod hooves on the cobblestones came as a kind of restless staccato. As Garion leaned forward to lay a calming hand on the arched gray neck, he could feel the nervous quivering of his horse's muscles under the sleek skin. "I know," he said. "I feel the same way, but we have to wait until we're outside the city before we can run."
    Chretienne snorted and then made a plaintive whinnying sound.
    "It won't take that long." Garion assured him.
    They rode in single file through the busy streets with Silk in the lead. The breeze swirling through the streets carried with it the dusty smell of autumn.
    "What are all those buildings over there?" Eriond called ahead to