Chapter 18: the belgariad pawn of prophecy 18
"Through the night they crept, burning with their lust for gold. The
Spirit of Mara wailed about them, but they were brave men and not afraid
of spirits - and besides, they told each other, the sound was not truly
a spirit, but merely the moaning of the wind in the trees.
"As dim and misty morning seeped amongst the hills, they could hear,
not far away, the rushing sound of a river. As all men know, gold is
most easily found along the banks of rivers, and so they made quickly
toward that sound.
"Then one of them chanced to look down in the dim light, and behold,
the ground at his feet was strewn with gold-lumps and chunks of it.
Overcome with greed, he remained silent and loitered behind until his
companions were out of sight; then he fell to his knees and began to
gather up gold as a child might pick flowers.
"He heard a sound behind him and he turned. What he saw it is best not to say. Dropping all his gold, he bolted.
"Now the river they had heard cut through a gorge just about there,
and his two companions were amazed to see him run off the edge of that
gorge and even continue to run as he fell, his legs churning
insubstantial air. Then they turned, and they saw what had been pursuing
him.
"One went quite mad and leaped with a despairing cry into the same
gorge which had just claimed his companion, but the third adventurer,
the bravest and boldest of all, told himself that no ghost could
actually hurt a living man and stood his ground. That, of course, was
the worst mistake of all. The ghosts encircled him as he stood bravely,
certain that they could not hurt him."
Mister Wolf paused and drank briefly from his tankard. "And then,"
the old storyteller continued, "because even ghosts can become hungry,
they divided him up and ate him."
Garion's hair stood on end at the shocking conclusion of Wolf's tale,
and he could sense the others at his table shuddering. It was not at
all the kind of story they had expected to hear.
Durnik the smith, who was sitting nearby, had a perplexed expression
on his plain face. Finally he spoke. "I would not question the truth of
your story for the world," he said to Wolf, struggling with the words,
"but if they ate him - the ghosts, I mean - where did it go? I mean -if
ghosts are insubstantial, as all men say they are, they don't have
stomachs, do they? And what would they bite with?"
Wolf's face grew sly and mysterious. He raised one finger as if he
were about to make some cryptic reply to Durnik's puzzled question, and
then he suddenly began to laugh.
Durnik looked annoyed at first, and then, rather sheepishly, he too
began to laugh. Slowly the laughter spread as they all began to
understand the joke.
"An excellent jest, old friend," Faldor said, laughing as hard as any
of the others, "and one from which much instruction may be gained.
Greed is bad, but fear is worse, and the world is dangerous enough
without cluttering it with imaginary hobgoblins." Trust Faldor to twist a
good story into a moralistic sermon of some kind.
"True enough, good Faldor," Wolf said more seriously, "but there are
things in this world which cannot be explained away or dismissed with
laughter."
Brill, seated near the fire, had not joined in the laughter.
"I have never seen a ghost," he said sourly, "nor ever met anyone who
has, and I for one do not believe in any kind of magic or sorcery or
such childishness." And he stood up and stamped out of the hall almost
as if the story had been a kind of personal insult.
Later, in the kitchen, when Aunt Pol was seeing to the cleaning up
and Wolf lounged against one of the worktables with a tankard of beer,
Garion's struggle with his conscience finally came into the open. That
dry, interior voice informed him most pointedly that concealing what he
had seen was not merely foolish, but possibly dangerous as well. He set
down the pot he was scrubbing and crossed to where they were. "It might
not be important," he said carefully, "but this afternoon, when I was
coming back from the garden, I saw Brill following you, Aunt Pol."
She turned and looked at him. Wolf set down his tankard.
"Go on, Garion," Aunt Pol said.
"It was when you went up to talk with Faldor," Garion explained. "He
waited until you'd gone up the stairs and Faldor had let you in. Then he
sneaked up and listened at the door. I saw him up there when I went to
put the spade away."
"How long has this man Brill been at the farm?" Wolf asked, frowning.
"He came just last spring," Garion said, "after Breldo got married and moved away."
"And the Murgo merchant was here at Erastide some months before?"
Aunt Pol looked at him sharply.
"You think-" She did not finish.
"I think it might not be a bad idea if I were to step around and have
a few words with friend Brill," Wolf said grimly, "Do you know where
his room is, Garion?"
Garion nodded, his heart suddenly racing.
"Show me." Wolf moved away from the table against which he had been
lounging, and his step was no longer the step of an old man. It was
curiously as if the years had suddenly dropped away from him.
"Be careful," Aunt Pol warned.
Wolf chuckled, and the sound was chilling. "I'm always careful. You should know that by now."
Garion quickly led Wolf out into the yard and around to the far end
where the steps mounted to the gallery that led to the rooms of the
farmhands. They went up, their soft leather shoes making no sound on the
worn steps.
"Down here," Garion whispered, not knowing exactly why he whispered.
Wolf nodded, and they went quietly down the dark gallery.
"Here," Garion whispered, stopping.
"Step back," Wolf breathed. He touched the door with his fingertips.
"Is it locked?" Garion asked.
"That's no problem," Wolf said softly. He put his hand to the latch,
there was a click, and the door swung open. Wolf stepped inside with
Garion close behind.
It was totally dark in the room, and the sour stink of Brill's unwashed clothes hung in the air.
"He's not here," Wolf said in a normal tone. He fumbled with
something at his belt, and there was the scrape of flint against steel
and a flare of sparks. A wisp of frayed rope caught the sparks and began
to glow. Wolf blew on the spark for a second, and it flared into flame.
He raised the burning wisp over his head and looked around the empty
room.
The floor and bed were littered with rumpled clothes and personal
belongings. Garion knew instantly that this was not simple untidiness,
but rather was the sign of a hasty departure, and he did not know
exactly how it was that he knew.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone