"Of course not," Velvet replied, "but let him enjoy it for now. Time enough to teach him the realities of the situation later on."
"You're terrible," Ce'Nedra giggled.
"Naturally. But didn't you do the same thing to our hero here?" Velvet looked pointedly at Garion.
"Liselle," Polgara said firmly, "you're giving away secrets again."
"Sorry, Lady Polgara," Velvet replied contritely.
The trail of Zandramas was soon joined by the sullen scarlet trail of the Sardion, and both proceeded down across Rengel to the River Kallahar and the border of Celanta. The trails also seemed to be going toward Jarot.
"Why is she going toward the sea?" Garion worriedly asked Belgarath.
"Who knows?" the old man replied shortly. "She's read the Ashabine Oracles, and I haven't. It could be that she knows where she's going, and I'm just floundering along in the rear."
"But what if—"
"Please don't 'what if' me, Garion," Belgarath said. "I've got enough problems already."
They crossed the River Kallahar aboard a cluster of ferries that seemed to belong to Silk and arrived in the port city of Jarot on the Celanta side. As they rode through the cobbled streets, crowds came out to cheer. Silk rode at the head of the column graciously waving his acknowledgment of the cheers.
"Have I missed something?" Durnik asked.
"His people love him very much," Eriond explained.
"His people?"
"Who owns a man, Durnik?" the blond young man asked sadly. "The one who rules him, or the one who pays him?"
Silk's offices in Jarot were opulent—even ostentatious. Mallorean carpets lay thick upon the floors, the walls were paneled in rare, polished woods, and officials in costly livery were everywhere.
"One sort of has to keep up appearances," the little man explained apologetically as they entered. "The natives are so impressed by show."
"Of course," Belgarath said drily.
"Surely you don't think—"
"Just let it pass, Silk."
"But it's all so much fun, Belgarath." Silk grinned.
Belgarath then did something Garion had never thought he would see him do. He raised his hands imploringly, assumed a tragic expression, and said, "Why me?"
Beldin chortled.
"Well?" Belgarath said crossly to him.
"Nothing," Beldin replied.
Silk's factor in Jarot was a baggy-eyed Melcene named Kasvor. Kasvor walked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and he sighed often. He came wearily into the office where Silk sat as if enthroned behind a very large writing desk and the rest of them lounged in comfortable chairs along the walls. "Prince Kheldar," Kasvor said, bowing.
"Ah, Kasvor," Silk said.
"I've seen to the rooms your Highness wanted." Kasvor sighed. "The inn is called the Lion. It's two streets over. I've taken the entire top floor for you."
Durnik leaned over and whispered to Garion. "Wasn't that inn we stayed at in Camaar also called the Lion?" he asked. "The place where Brendig arrested us that time?"
"I'd imagine that you could find a Lion Inn in just about every city in the world," Garion replied.
"Capital, Kasvor. Capital," Silk was saying. Kasvor smiled faintly. "How's business?" Silk asked.
"We're showing a fair profit, your Highness."
"How fair?"
"About forty-five percent."
"Not bad. I need to talk to you about something else, though. Let's stop buying beans."
"I'm afraid it's a little late for that, your Highness. We own just about every bean in Mallorea already."
Silk groaned and buried his face in his hands.
"The market's up ten points, though, your Highness."
"It is?" Silk sounded startled, and his eyes brightened. "How did that happen?"
"There have been all manner of rumors going about and some tentative inquiries from the Bureau of Military Procurement. Everyone's been scrambling around trying to buy up beans, but we've got them all."
"Ten points, you say?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"Sell," Silk said.
Kasvor looked startled.
"We bought up the bean crop in the expectation of an imperial military campaign in Karanda. There won't be one now.''
"Can your Highness be sure?"
"I have access to certain sources of information. When the word gets out, the market in beans is going to sink like a rock, and we don't really want several million tons of beans on our hands, do we? Have there been any offers?"
"The Melcene consortium has expressed some interest, your Highness. They're willing to go two points above the market."
"Negotiate with them, Kasvor. When they get to three points above the market price, sell. I don't want to have to eat all those beans myself."
"Yes, your Highness."
Belgarath cleared his throat meaningfully.
Silk glanced at the old man and nodded. "We just came down through Voresebo and Rengel," he said. "Things are a bit chaotic up there."
"So I've heard, your Highness," Kasvor replied.
"Is there unrest anywhere else in the region? We have some things to do in this part of the world and we don't want to have to do them in a war zone if we don't have to.''
Kasvor shrugged. "Darshiva's in an uproar, but there's nothing new about that. Darshiva's been in an uproar for the past dozen years. I took the liberty of pulling all our people out of that principality. There's nothing left there that's worth our while." He looked toward the ceiling in mock piety. "May Zandramas grow a boil on her nose," he prayed.
"Amen," Silk agreed fervently. "Is there any place else we ought to avoid?"
"I've heard that northern Gandahar is a bit nervous," Kasvor answered, "but that doesn't affect us, since we don't deal in elephants."
"Smartest decision we ever made," Silk said to Belgarath. "Do you have any idea how much an elephant can eat?"
"Peldane is also reported to be in turmoil just now, your Highness," Kasvor reported. "Zandramas is spreading her infection in all directions."
"Have you ever seen her?" Silk asked him.
Kasvor shook his head. "She hasn't come this far east yet. I think she's trying to consolidate her position before she comes this way. The Emperor won't mourn the loss of Darshiva, Rengel, and Voresebo very much, and Peldane and Gandahar are more trouble than they're worth. Celanta—and certainly Melcena—are altogether different matters, though."