Sorceress of Darshiva Read Online Free PDF Page B

imperial army on their trail, I'd imagine," Varana added.
    "No," Porenn disagreed. "Zakath can't leave Mal Zeth just now. Tell them, Yarblek."
    Silk's rangy partner rose to his feet. "They've got plague in Mal Zeth," he said. "Zakath has sealed up the city. No one can go in or out."
    "Prithee," Mandorallen asked, "how then was it possible for our friends to make good their escape?"
    "I'd picked up an itinerant comedian," Yarblek said sourly. "I didn't think much of him, but he amused Vella. She's fond of bawdy stories."
    "Be careful, Yarblek," the Nadrak dancer warned. "You still have your health, but I can fix that for you." She put one hand suggestively on a dagger hilt. Vella wore a stunning lavender gown. There were a few concessions to Nadrak customs in her dress, however. She still wore polished leather boots—with daggers in their tops—and the customary wide leather belt about her waist was still adorned with similar knives.
    The men in the room, however, had all been surreptitiously eyeing her since she had entered. No matter how she was dressed, Vella still had the power to attract every eye.
    "Anyway," Yarblek hurried on, "the fellow knew of a tunnel that runs from the palace to an abandoned quarry outside the city. It got us all out of Mal Zeth with no one the wiser."
    "Zakath won't like that," Drosta said. "He hates to let people go once he's caught them."
    "There's been an uprising of some sort in the Seven Kingdoms of Karanda in northern Mallorea," Porenn went on. "I understand that there are demons involved."
    "Demons?" Varana said skeptically. "Oh, come now, Porenn."
    "That's what Belgarath reports."
    "Belgarath has a warped sense of humor, sometimes," Varana scoffed. "He was probably just joking. There's no such thing as a demon."
    "You're wrong, Varana," King Drosta said with uncharacteristic soberness. "I saw one once—up in Morindland when I was a boy.''
    "What did it look like?" Varana did not sound convinced.
    Drosta shuddered. "You really don't want to know."
    "At any rate," Porenn said, "Zakath has ordered the bulk of his army back from Cthol Murgos to put down this uprising. It won't be very long until he floods the entirety of Karanda with troops, and that's the area where our friends are. That's why I've called this meeting. What are we going to do about it?"
    Lelldorin of Wildantor came to his feet. "We'll need fast horses," he said to Hettar.
    "Why?" Hettar asked.
    "To get to their aid, of course." The young Asturian's eyes were flashing with excitement.
    "Uh—Lelldorin," Barak said gently, "the Sea of the East is between here and Mallorea."
    "Oh," Lelldorin said, looking slightly abashed. "I didn't know that. We'll need a boat, too, won't we?"
    Barak and Hettar exchanged a long look. "Ship," Barak corrected absently.
    "What?"
    "Never mind, Lelldorin," Barak sighed.
    "We can't," King Anheg said flatly. "Even if we could get through, we'd destroy Garion's chances of winning in the fight with the Child of Dark. That's what the Seeress told us at Rheon, remember?"
    "But this is different," Lelldorin protested, tears standing in his eyes.
    "No," Anheg said. "It's not. This is exactly what we were warned against. We can't go near them until this is over.''
    "But—"
    "Lelldorin," Anheg said. "I want to go as much as you do, but we can't. Would Garion thank us if we were responsible for the loss of his son?"
    Mandorallen rose to his feet and began to pace up and down, his armor clinking. "Methinks thy reasoning is aright, your Majesty," he said to Anheg. "We may not join with our friends, lest our presence imperil their quest, and we would all give up our lives to prevent that. We may, however, journey straightaway to Mallorea and, without going near them, place ourselves between them and the hordes of Kal Zakath. We can thereby bring the unfriendly advance of the Malloreans to a precipitous halt and thus allow Garion to escape."
    Barak stared at the great knight, whose face shone with unthinking