Sorceress of Darshiva

kings.
    Barak was there, and also Hettar, Mandorallen, and Lelldorin. Relg had just arrived from Maragor, and Barak's son Unrak sat on a high-backed bench by the window.
    The Earl of Trellheim cleared his throat by way of calling them to order. They had gathered in the tower of Mandorallen's keep, and the golden autumn sunlight streamed in through the arched window. Barak was huge and resplendent in a green velvet doublet. His red beard was combed, and his hair was braided. "All right," he rumbled, "let's get started. Mandorallen, are you sure the stairway leading up here is guarded? I wouldn't want anybody to overhear us."
    "Of a certainty, my Lord of Trellheim," the great knight replied earnestly. "I vouchsafe it upon my life to thee." Mandorallen wore mail and his silver-trimmed blue surcoat.
    "A simple yes would have been enough, Mandorallen." Barak sighed. "Now," he continued briskly, "we’ve been forbidden to ride along with Garion and the others, right?"
    "That's what Cyradis said at Rheon," Hettar replied softly. He wore his usual black horsehide, and his scalplock was caught in a silver ring. He lounged in a chair with his long legs thrust far out in front of him.
    "All right, then," Barak continued. "We can't go with them, but there's nothing to stop us from going to Mallorea on business of our own, is there?"
    "What kind of business?" Lelldorin asked blankly.
    "We'll think of something. I've got a ship. We'll run on down to Tot Honeth and load her with a cargo of some kind. Then we'll go to Mallorea and do some trading."
    "How do you plan to get the Seabird across to the Sea of the East?" Hettar asked.
    "That could be a long portage, don't you think?"
    Barak winked broadly. "I've got a map," he said. "We can sail around the southern end of Cthol Murgos and right on into the eastern sea. From there to Mallorea is nothing at all."
    "I thought the Murgos were very secretive about maps of their coastline," Lelldorin said, a frown creasing his open young face.
    "They are," Barak grinned, "but Javelin's been in Rak Urga and he managed to steal one."
    "How did you get it away from Javelin?" Hettar asked. "He's even more secretive than the Murgos."
    "He sailed back to Boktor aboard Greldik's ship. Javelin's not a good sailor, so he wasn't feeling very well. Greldik pinched the map and had his cartographer make a copy. Javelin never even knew he'd been robbed."
    "Thy plan is excellent, my Lord," Mandorallen said gravely, "but methinks I detect a flaw."
    "Oh?"
    "As all the world knows, Mallorea is a vast continent, thousands of leagues across and even more thousands from the south to the polar ice of the far north. It could well take us our lifetimes to locate our friends, for I perceive that to be the thrust of thy proposal."
    Barak slyly laid one finger aside his nose. "I was just coming to that," he said. "When we were in Boktor, I got Yarblek drunk. He's shrewd enough when he's sober, but once you get a half keg of ale into him, he gets talkative. I asked him a few questions about the operation of the business he and Silk are running in Mallorea, and I got some very useful answers. It seems that the two of them have offices in every major city in Mallorea, and those offices keep in constant touch with each other. No matter what else he's doing, Silk's going to keep an eye on his business interests. Every time he gets near one of those offices, he'll find some excuse to stop by to see how many millions he's made in the past week."
    "That's Silk, all right," Hettar agreed.
    "All we have to do is drop anchor in some Mallorean seaport and look up the little thief's office. His people will know approximately where he is, and where Silk is, you're going to find the others."
    "My Lord," Mandorallen apologized, "I have wronged thee. Canst thou forgive me for underestimating thy shrewdness?"
    "Perfectly all right, Mandorallen," Barak replied magnanimously.
    "But," Lelldorin protested, "we're still forbidden to join Garion and the others."
    "Truly," Mandorallen agreed. "We may not approach them lest we doom their quest to failure."
    "I think I've worked that part out, too," the big man said. "We can't ride along with them, but Cyradis didn't say anything about how far we have to stay away from them, did she? All we're going to be doing is minding our own business—a league or so away—or maybe a mile. We'll be close enough so that if they get into any kind of trouble, we'll be able to lend a hand and then be on our way