‘Wait!’ Durnik said sharply. ‘It’s a man!’
They stopped, staring at the dreadfully wounded priest lying in the snow.
Garion bleakly set the point of his sword under the Grolim’s chin. He was terribly angry. ‘All right,’ he said in a cold voice, ‘talk – and I think you’d better be very convincing. Who put you up to this?’
‘It was Naradas,’ the Grolim groaned, ‘arch-priest of the temple at Hemil.’
‘The henchman of Zandramas?’ Garion demanded. ‘The one with white eyes?’
‘Yes. I was only doing what he commanded. Please don’t kill me.’
‘Why did he tell you to attack us?’
‘I was supposed to kill one of you.’
‘Which one?’
‘He didn’t care. He just said to make sure that one of you died.’
‘They’re still playing that tired old game,’ Silk noted, sheathing his daggers. ‘Grolims are so unimaginative.’
Sadi looked inquiringly at Garion, holding up his slim little knife suggestively.
‘No!’ Eriond said sharply.
Garion hesitated. ‘He’s right, Sadi,’ he said finally. ‘We can’t just kill him in cold blood.’
‘Alorns,’ Sadi sighed, rolling his eyes up toward the clearing sky. ‘You do know, of course, that if we leave him here in this condition, he’ll die anyway. And if we try to take him along, he’ll delay us – not to mention the fact that he’s hardly the sort to be trusted.’
‘Eriond,’ Garion said, ‘why don’t you go get Aunt Pol? We’d better get those wounds of his tended before he bleeds to death.’ He looked at Belgarath, who had changed form again. ‘Any objections?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘I appreciate that.’
‘You should have killed him before he changed form on you,’ a familiar harsh voice came from the thicket behind them. Beldin was sitting on a log, gnawing at something that was uncooked and still had a few feathers clinging to it.
‘I suppose it didn’t occur to you to give us a hand?’ Belgarath asked acidly.
‘You were doing all right.’ The dwarf shrugged. He belched and tossed the remains of his breakfast to the she-wolf.
‘One is grateful,’ she said politely as her jaws crunched into the half-eaten carcass. Garion could not be sure that Beldin understood, though he guessed that the gnarled little man probably did.
‘What’s an Eldrak doing here in Mallorea?’ Belgarath asked.
‘It’s not exactly an Eldrak, Belgarath,’ Beldin replied, spitting out a few soggy feathers.
‘All right, but how did a Mallorean Grolim even know what an Eldrak looks like?’
‘You weren’t listening, old man. There are a few of those things up here in these mountains. They’re distantly related to the Eldrakyn, but they’re not the same. They’re not as big, for one thing, and they’re not as smart.’
‘I thought all the monsters lived in Ulgoland.’
‘Use your head, Belgarath. There are Trolls in Cherek, Algroths range down into Arendia and the Dryads live in southern Tolnedra. Then there’s that Dragon. Nobody knows for sure where she lives. There are monsters scattered all over. They’re just a little more concentrated in Ulgo, that’s all.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Belgarath conceded. He looked at Zakath. ‘What did you call the thing?’
‘An ape-bear. It’s probably not too accurate, but the people who live up here aren’t very sophisticated.’
‘Where’s Naradas right now?’ Silk asked the injured Grolim.
‘I saw him at Balasa,’ the Grolim replied. ‘I don’t know where he went from there.’
‘Was Zandramas with him?’
‘I didn’t see her, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. The Holy Sorceress doesn’t show herself very often any more.’
‘Because of the lights under her skin?’ the weasel-faced little man asked shrewdly.
The Grolim’s face grew even more pale. ‘We’re forbidden to discuss that – even among ourselves,’ he replied in a frightened tone of voice.
‘That’s all right, friend.’ Silk smiled at him and drawing one of his daggers. ‘You have my permission.’
The Grolim swallowed hard and then nodded.
‘Stout fellow.’ Silk patted him on the shoulder. ‘When did those lights start to appear?’
‘I can’t say for sure. Zandramas was off in the west with Naradas for a long time. The lights had started to appear when she came back. One of the priests at Hemil used to gossip a great deal. He said it was some kind of plague.’
‘Used to?’
‘She found out about what he’d said and had his heart cut out.’
‘That’s the Zandramas we’ve come to know and love, all right.’
Aunt Pol came up along the path trampled through the snow, followed by Ce’Nedra and Velvet. She tended the Grolim’s wounds without comment while Durnik and Toth went back to the lean-to and led out the horses. Then they untied the tent canvas and broke down the frame. When they led the horses up to the place where the wounded Grolim lay, Sadi went to his saddle and opened the red leather case. ‘Just to be on the safe side,’ he muttered to Garion, taking out a little vial.
Garion raised one eyebrow.
‘It won’t hurt him,’ the eunuch assured him. ‘It’ll make him tractable, though. Besides, since you’re in this humanitarian mood, it should also numb the pain of his wounds.’
‘You don’t approve, do you?’ Garion said. ‘That we didn’t kill him, I mean?’
‘I think it’s imprudent, Belgarion,’ Sadi said seriously. ‘Dead enemies are safe enemies. Live ones can come back to haunt you. It’s your decision, though.’
‘I’ll make a concession,’ Garion said. ‘Stay close to him. If he starts getting out of hand, do whatever seems appropriate.’
Sadi smiled faintly. ‘Much better,’ he approved. ‘We’ll teach you the rudiments of practical politics yet.’
They led the horses up the steep hill to the caravan route and mounted. The howling wind which had accompanied the blizzard had scoured most of the snow from the track, although there were deep drifts in sheltered places where the road curved behind bands of trees and rock outcroppings. They made good time when the road was in the open, but it was slow going when they came to the drifts. Now that the storm had passed, the sunlight on the new snow was dazzling, and even though he squinted his eyes nearly shut, Garion found that after about an hour he was beginning to develop a splitting headache.