Sorceress of Darshiva

grinned. "Or maybe some Trolls," he mused. "Trolls are great fun, and I'd love to see the look on the face of one of those overdressed butterflies when he jumped a fence and came face to face with a full-grown Troll."
    "Never mind," Belgarath repeated.
    The road forked at one point, and the Orb pulled toward the left. "She's headed toward the ocean again," Silk noted. "I wonder what it is that makes her so fond of water. She's been hopping from island to island ever since we started out after her.''
    "Maybe she knows that the Orb can't follow her over water," Garion said.
    "I don't think that would be her major concern at this point," Polgara disagreed.
    "Time's running out—for her as well as us. She doesn't have the leisure for side trips."
    The road they were following led down toward the cliffs, and finally the Orb pulled Garion onto a long, paved drive that curved down toward an imposing house set at the very edge of a precipitous drop and overlooking the ocean far below. As they rode toward the house, Garion loosened his sword in its scabbard.
    "Expecting trouble?" Silk asked.
    "I just like to be ready," Garion replied. "That's a big house up ahead, and a lot of people could be hiding inside."
    The men who came out of the cliff-top villa, however, were not armed and they were all garbed in purple livery. "May I ask your business?" one of them asked. He was tall and thin and had an imposing mane of snowy white hair. He carried himself with an air of self-importance, that kind of air usually assumed by senior servants accustomed to ordering grooms and maids about.
    Silk pushed forward. "My friends and I have been out for a morning ride," he said, "and we were struck by the beauty of this house and its location. Is the owner about perhaps?"
    "His Lordship, the Archduke, is away at present." the tall man replied.
    "What a shame," Silk said. He looked around. "I'm really taken with this place," he said. Then he laughed. "Maybe it's as well that he's not at home. If he were, I might be tempted to make him an offer for his house."
    "I don't know that his Grace would be very interested," the servant said.
    "I don't believe I know his Grace," Silk said artfully. "Do you suppose you could tell me his name?"
    "He's the Archduke Otrath, sir," the servant answered, puffing himself up slightly.
    "He's a member of the imperial family."
    "Oh?"
    "He's the third cousin—twice removed—of his Imperial Majesty, Kal Zakath."
    "Really? What an amazing thing. I'm so sorry to have missed him. I'll tell his Majesty that I stopped by the next time I see him, though."
    "You know his Majesty?"
    "Oh, yes. We're old friends."
    "Might I ask your name, honored sir?"
    "Oh, sorry. How very stupid of me. I'm Prince Kheldar of Drasnia."
    "The Prince Kheldar?"
    "I certainly hope there aren't any others." Si!k laughed. "I can get into enough trouble all by myself."
    "His Grace will be very sorry to have missed you, your Highness."
    "I'll be in Melcena for several weeks," Silk said. "Perhaps I can call again. When do you expect his Grace to return?"
    "That's very hard to say, your Highness. He left not three days ago with some people from the mainland." The white-haired servant paused thoughtfully. "If you and your friends wouldn't mind waiting for a few moments, Prince Kheldar, I'll go advise her Grace, the Archduke's wife, that you're here. Her Grace has so few visitors out here, and she loves company. Won't you please come inside? I'll go to her at once and tell her that you're here."
    They dismounted and followed him into a broad entry-way. He bowed rather stiffly and went off down a corridor lined with tapestries.
    "Very smooth, Kheldar," Velvet murmured admiringly.
    "They don't call me Silk for nothing," he said, polishing his ring on the front of his pearl-gray doublet.
    When the tall servant returned, he had a slightly pained look on his face. "Her Grace is a bit indisposed at the moment, your Highness," he apologized to Silk.
    "I'm sorry to hear that," Silk replied with genuine regret. "Perhaps another time, then."
    "Oh, no, your Highness. Her Grace insists on seeing you, but please forgive her if she seems a bit—ah—disoriented.
    One of Silk's eyebrows shot up.
    "It's the isolation, your Highness," the servant confided, looking embarrassed. "Her Grace is not happy in this somewhat bucolic locale, and she's resorted to a certain amount of reinforcement in her exile."
    "Reinforcement?"
    "I trust I can count on your Highness'