Garion shuddered, the memory of the huge dog-shapes they had encountered in the City of Night coming back to him with painful clarity.

"Anyway." Beldin continued, "after the Battle of Vo Mimbre when Torak was put to sleep for all those centuries, Urvon went into the forbidden area around the ruins and managed to persuade a part of the pack of hounds that he was acting on behalf of old burnt-face. He took them back to Mal Yaska with him and gradually changed them back into Grolims, even though he had to kill about half of them in the process. Anyhow, they call themselves the Chandim -a sort of secret order within the Grolim church. They're absolutely loyal to Urvon. They're pretty fair sorcerers and they dabble a bit in magic as well. Underneath it all, though, they're still dogs -very obedient and much more dangerous in packs than they are as individuals."

"What a fascinating little sidelight," Silk observed, looking up from a parchment scroll he had found in one of the cabinets.

"You have a very clever mouth, Kheldar," Beldin said testily. "How would you like to have me brick it up for you?"

"No, that's quite all right, Beldin."

"Well, what now, Belgarath?" Queen Porenn asked.

"Now? Now we go after Zandramas, of course. This hoax with the cult has put us a long way behind, but we'll catch up."

"You can count on that," Garion said. "I dealt with the Child of Dark once before and I can do it again if I have to." He turned back to Errand. "Do you have any idea of why Urvon wants my son killed?"

"It's something he found in a book of some kind. The book says that if your son ever falls into the hands of Zandramas, then Zandramas will be able to use him to do something. Whatever it is, Urvon would be willing to destroy the world to prevent it."

"What is it that Zandramas would be able to do?" Belgarath asked, his eyes intent.

"Harakan doesn't know. All he knows is that he's failed in the task Urvon set him."

Belgarath smiled slowly, a cold, wintery kind of smile. "I don't think we need to waste any time chasing down Harakan," he said.

"Not chase him?" Ce'Nedra exclaimed, "After all he's done to us?"

"Urvon will take care of him for us and Urvon will do things to him that we couldn't even begin to think of."

"Who is this Urvon?" General Brendig asked.

"Torak's third disciple," Belgarath replied. "There used to be three of them -Ctuchik, Zedar, and Urvon. But he's the only one left."

"We still don't know anything about Zandramas," Silk said.

"We know a few things. We know that Zandramas is now the Child of Dark, for example."

"That doesn't fit together, Belgarath," Barak rumbled. "Why would Urvon want to interfere with the Child of Dark? They're on the same side, aren't they?"

"Apparently not. It begins to look as if there's a little dissension in the ranks on the other side."

"That's always helpful."

"I'd like to know a bit more before I start gloating, though."

It was midafternoon before the last fanatic resistance collapsed in the southeastern quarter of Rheon and the demoralized prisoners were herded through the streets of the burning town to join the others in the town square.

Garion and General Brendig stood on the second floor balcony of the house where they had taken Harakan, talking quietly with the small, black-gowned Queen of Drasnia. "What will you do with them now, your Majesty?" General Brendig asked her, looking down at the frightened prisoners in the square.

"I'm going to tell them the truth and let them go, Brendig."

"Let them go?"

"Of course."

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you."

"They're going to be just a little upset when I tell them that they've been duped into betraying Aloria by a Mallorean Grolim."

"I don't think they'll believe you."

"Enough of them will," she replied placidly, adjusting the collar of her black dress. "I'll manage to convince at least some of them of the truth, and they'll spread the word. Once it becomes general knowledge that the cult fell under the domination of this Grolim Harakan, it's going to be more difficult for them to gain new converts, don't you think?"

Brendig considered that. "I suppose you're right," he admitted. "But will you punish the ones who won't listen?"

"That would be tyranny, General, and one should always try to avoid the appearance of tyranny -particularly when it's unnecessary. Once word of this gets around, I think that anyone who starts babbling about the divine mission of Aloria to subjugate the southern kingdoms is going to be greeted with a barrage of stones."

"All right, then, what are you going to do about General Haldar?" he asked seriously. "You're not just going to let him go, too, are you?"

"Haldar's quite another matter," she replied. "He's a traitor, and that sort of thing ought to be discouraged."

"When he finds out what happened here, he'll probably try to run."

"Appearances can be deceiving, General Brendig," she told him with a chill smile. "I may look like a helpless woman, but I have a very long arm. Haldar can't run far enough or fast enough to escape me. And when my people catch him, he'll be brought back to Boktor in chains to stand trial. I think the outcome of that trial will be fairly predictable."

"Would you excuse me?" Garion asked politely. "I need to go talk with my grandfather."

"Of course, Garion," Queen Porenn said with a warm little smile.

He went back downstairs and found Silk and Javelin still ransacking the chests and cabinets in the green-carpeted room. "Are you finding anything useful?" he asked.

"Well, quite a bit, actually." Javelin replied. "I expect that by the time we're finished, we'll have the name of every cult member in Aloria."

"It just proves something I've always said," Silk noted as he continued to read. "A man should never put anything down in writing."

"Have either of you any idea where I can find Belgarath?"

"You might try the kitchens at the back of the house," Silk replied. "He said something about being hungry. I think Beldin went with him."

The kitchen in Harakan's house had escaped the general ransacking by Yarblek's men, who appeared to be more interested in loot than food, and the two old sorcerers sat comfortably at a table near a low, arched window picking at the remains of a roasted chicken. "Ah, Garion, my boy," Belgarath said expansively. "Come in and join us."