spellsinger universe

The streets through which they passed were narrow and dark, and the

snow had begun to fall a bit more heavily now, settling almost lazily

through the dead calm air. The horses, made skittish by the snow, seemed

to be fearful and crowded close to those who led them.

When the attack came, it was unexpected and swift. There was a sudden

rush of footsteps and a sharp ring of steel on steel as Barak fended

off the first blow with his sword.

Garion could see only shadowy figures outlined against the falling

snow, and then, as once before when in his boyhood he had struck down

his friend Rundorig in mock battle, his ears began to ring; his blood

surged boilingly in his veins as he leaped into the fight, ignoring the

single cry from Aunt Pol.

He received a smart rap on the shoulder, whirled and struck with his

stick. He was rewarded with a muffled grunt. He struck again - and then

again, swinging his club at those parts of his shadowy enemy which he

instinctively knew were most sensitive.

The main fight, however, surged around Barak and Durnik. The ring of

Barak's sword and the thump of Durnik's cudgel resounded in the narrow

street along with the groans of their assailants.

"There's the boy!" a voice rang out from behind them, and Garion

whirled. Two men were running down the street toward him, one with a

sword and the other with a wicked-looking curved knife. Knowing it was

hopeless, Garion raised his club, but Silk was there. The small man

launched himself from the shadows directly at the feet of the two, and

all three crashed to the street in a tangle of arms and legs. Silk

rolled to his feet like a cat, spun and kicked one of the floundering

men solidly just below the ear. The man sank twitching to the

cobblestones. The other scrambled away and half rose just in time to

receive both of Silk's heels in his face as the rat-faced Drasnian

leaped into the air, twisted and struck with both legs. Then Silk turned

almost casually.

"Are you all right?" he asked Garion.

"I'm fine," Garion said. "You're awfully good at this kind of thing."

"I'm an acrobat," Silk said. "It's simple once you know how."

"They're getting away," Garion told him.

Silk turned, but the two he had just put down were dragging themselves into a dark alley.

There was a triumphant shout from Barak, and Garion saw that the rest of the attackers were fleeing.

At the end of the street in the snow-speckled light from a small

window was Brill, almost dancing with fury. "Cowards!" he shouted at his

hirelings. "Cowards!" And then Barak started for him, and he too turned

and ran.

"Are you all right, Aunt Pol?" Garion said, crossing the street to where she stood.

"Of course I am," she snapped. "And don't do that again, young man. Leave street brawling to those better suited for it."

"I was all right," he objected. "I had my stick here."

"Don't argue with me," she said. "I didn't go to all the trouble of raising you to have you end up dead in a gutter."

"Is everyone all right?" Durnik asked anxiously, coming back to them.

"Of course we are," Aunt Pol snapped peevishly. "Why don't you see if you can help the Old Wolf with the horses?"

"Certainly, Mistress Pol," Durnik said mildly.

"A splendid little fight," Barak said, wiping his sword as he joined them. "Not much blood, but satisfying all the same."

"I'm delighted you found it so," Aunt Pol said acidly. "I don't much care for such encounters. Did they leave anyone behind?"

"Regrettably no, dear lady," Barak said. "The quarters were too

narrow for good strokes, and these stones too slippery for good footing.

I marked a couple of them quite well, however. We managed to break a

few bones and dent a head or two. As a group, they were much better at

running than at fighting."

Silk came back from the alley where he had pursued the two who had

tried to attack Garion. His eyes were bright, and his grin was vicious.

"Invigorating," he said, and then laughed for no apparent reason.

Wolf and Durnik had managed to calm their wild-eyed horses and led them back to where Garion and the others stood.

"Is anyone hurt?" Wolf demanded.

"We're all intact," Barak rumbled. "The business was hardly worth drawing a sword for."

Garion's mind was racing; in his excitement, he spoke without

stopping to consider the fact that it might be wiser to think the whole

thing through first.

"How did Brill know we were in Muros?" he asked.

Silk looked at him sharply, his eyes narrowing.

"Perhaps he followed us from Winold," he said.

"But we stopped and looked back," Garion said. "He wasn't following when we left, and we've kept a watch behind us every day."

Silk frowned.

"Go on, Garion," he said.

"I think he knew where we were going," Garion blurted, struggling

against a strange compulsion not to speak what his mind saw clearly now.

"And what else do you think?" Wolf asked.

"Somebody told him," Garion said. "Somebody who knew we were coming here."

"Mingan knew," Silk said, "but Mingan's a merchant, and he wouldn't talk about his dealings to somebody like Brill."

"But Asharak the Murgo was in Mingan's counting room when Mingan

hired us." The compulsion was so strong now that Garion's tongue felt

stiff.

Silk shrugged.

"Why should it concern him? Asharak didn't know who we were."

"But what if he did?" Garion struggled. "What if he isn't just an

ordinary Murgo, but one of those others - like the one who was with

those ones who passed us a couple days after we left Darine?"

"A Grolim?" Silk said, and his eyes widened. "Yes, I suppose that if

Asharak is a Grolim, he'd have known who we are and what we're doing."

"And what if the Grolim who passed us that day was Asharak?" Garion

fought to say. "What if he wasn't really looking for us, but just coming

south to find Brill and send him here to wait for us?"

Silk looked very hard at Garion.

"Very good," he said softly. "Very, very good." He glanced at Aunt

Pol. "My compliments, Mistress Pol. You've raised a rare boy here."

"What did this Asharak look like?" Wolf asked quickly.

"A Murgo." Silk shrugged. "He said he was from Rak Goska. I took him

to be an ordinary spy on some business that didn't concern us. My mind

seems to have gone to sleep."

"It happens when one deals with Grolims," Wolf told him.