Quite obviously, I was going to need a disguise, but I was fairly sure I could find something that’d get me by. As it turned out, it was even easier than I’d expected. There were Murgo sentries patrolling the top of the wall. There was no need for that, really, since there was a sheer drop of almost a mile to the desert floor, but Murgos tend to be traditionalists. They’d patrolled the top of the wall at Cthol Mishrak, so they patrolled the top of the wall here. I slipped very slowly back into my own form to avoid alerting Ctuchik to the fact that I’d come to pay him a visit, and then I concealed myself in a narrow embrasure to wait for a Murgo.

There were a number of ways I could have done it, I suppose, but I chose the simplest. I waited until the sentry had passed, and then I bashed him on the head with a rock. It was quieter than any of the more exotic things I might have done, and it sufficed. I dragged the Murgo back into the embrasure and peeled off his black robe. I didn’t bother with his mail shirt. Chain mail is uncomfortable, and it tends to rattle when you’re moving around. I considered dropping my Murgo over the wall, but decided against it. I didn’t have anything against him personally, and I wasn’t entirely sure how much noise he’d make when he hit the ground a mile below.

Yes, I know all about my reputation, but I don’t really like to kill people unless it’s necessary. I’ve always felt that random murders tend to coarsen one’s nature. You might want to think about that when you consider murder as a solution to a problem.

I pulled up the hood of the Murgo robe and went looking for Ctuchik. The simplest way would have been to ask, but I might have had trouble imitating the rasping Murgo dialect, so I listened to a number of random conversations and quite gently probed the thoughts of various sentries and passers-by instead. Polgara’s much better at that than I am, but I know how it’s done. I was fairly careful about it, since everybody in Rak Cthol, Grolim and Murgo, wore those black robes, and that made it hard to tell them apart. It’s entirely possible, I suppose, that Murgos think of themselves as a form of minor clergy - or it might just be that Grolims are descendants of the original Murgo tribe. I didn’t want to probe the thoughts of a Grolim, since some of them at least are talented enough to recognize that when it happens.

My eavesdropping - both with my ears and with my mind - eventually gave me enough clues to narrow down the search. Ctuchik was somewhere in the Temple of Torak. I’d more or less expected that, but a little verification never hurts.

The Temple was deserted. Even Grolims have to sleep sometime, and it was getting fairly close to midnight. Ctuchik, however, was not asleep. I could sense his mind at work as soon as I entered the Temple. That made finding him much easier. I went along the back wall on that balcony that seems to be a standard feature in every major Grolim temple and eventually located the right door. And, naturally, it was locked. A single thought would have unlocked it, but it would probably have also alerted Ctuchik to my presence. Murgo locks aren’t very sophisticated, though, so I did it the other way. I might not be as good a burglar as Silk is, but I have had some experience in that line of work.

There was a flight of stairs leading downward behind that door, and I followed them, being very careful not to make any noise. There was a black painted door at the bottom of the stairs, and, oddly, no guards. I think it was this particular visit of mine that persuaded Ctuchik that leaving that door unguarded might be a bad idea. I picked the lock and went inside.

The sense of Ctuchik’s mind was coming from above me, so I didn’t bother to investigate the lower level of his turret. There’s a peculiar similarity to the way our minds work. We all feel more comfortable in towers. Ctuchik’s tower was hanging off the side of the mountain, though.

I went up the stairs. I ignored the second level and climbed to the top. The door there wasn’t locked, and I could sense the presence of the owner of the turret behind it. He seemed to be reading something, and he wasn’t particularly alert.

I set myself and opened the door.

An emaciated-looking Grolim with a white beard was sitting at a table near one of the round windows poring over a scroll by the light of a single oil lamp. That Murgo I’d seen at the escarpment - Agga, I think his name was - had described Ctuchik as a man who looked as if he’d been dead for a week. I think Agga’d understated it. I’ve never known anybody who looked more cadaverous than Ctuchik. ‘What?’ he exclaimed, dropping his scroll and leaping to his feet. ‘Who gave you permission to come here?’

‘It’s late, Ctuchik,’ I told him. ‘I didn’t want to bother anybody, so I let myself in.’

‘You!’ His sunken eyes blazed.

‘Don’t do anything foolish,’ I cautioned him. ‘This is just a social call. If I’d had anything else in mind, you’d already be dead.’ I looked around. His tower wasn’t nearly as cluttered as mine, but he hadn’t been here very long. It takes centuries to accumulate really good clutter. ‘What on earth possessed you to set up shop in this hideous place?’ I asked him.

‘It suits me,’ he replied shortly, struggling to get control of himself. He sat back down and retrieved his scroll. ‘You always manage to show up where you’re least expected, don’t you, Belgarath?’

‘It’s a gift. Are you busy right now? I can come back some other time if you’re doing something important.’

‘I think I can spare you a few moments.’

‘Good.’ I closed the door, went over to his table, and sat down in the chair directly across from him. ‘I think we should have a little chat, Ctuchik - as long as we’re living so close to each other.’

‘You’ve come to welcome me to the neighborhood?’ He looked faintly amused.

‘Not exactly. I thought we should establish a few ground rules, is all. I wouldn’t want you to blunder into anything by mistake.’

‘I don’t make mistakes, Belgarath.’

‘Oh, really? I can think of a dozen or so you’ve made already. You didn’t exactly cover yourself with glory at Cthol Mishrak, as I recall.’

‘You know that what happened at Cthol Mishrak had been decided before you even got there,’ he retorted. ‘If Zedar had done what he was supposed to, you wouldn’t have made it that far.’

‘Sometimes Zedar’s a little undependable - but that’s beside the point. I’m not here to talk about the good old days. I’m here to give you a bit of advice. Keep a tight leash on your Murgos. The time isn’t right for anything major, and we both know it. A lot of things have to happen yet before we can get down to business. Keep the Murgos out of the western kingdoms. They’re starting to irritate the Alorns.’

He sneered. ‘My, my, isn’t that a shame.’

‘Don’t try to be funny. You’re not ready for a war, Ctuchik - particularly not with the Alorns. Iron-grip’s got the Orb, and you saw what he can do with it when we had that little get-together at Cthol Mishrak. If you don’t get your Murgos under control, he might take it into his head to pay you a call. If you irritate him too much, he’ll turn this mountain of yours into a very large pile of gravel.’

‘He’s not the one who’s supposed to raise the Orb,’ Ctuchik objected.

‘My point exactly. Let’s not push our luck here. We haven’t received all our instructions as yet, so we don’t even know what we’re supposed to do. If you push the Alorns too far, Iron-grip’s very likely to lose his temper and do something precipitous. If that happens, it could throw this whole business into the lap of pure, random chance. We could end up with a third possibility, and I don’t think the other two would like that very much. So let’s not complicate things any more than they already are.’

He pulled speculatively at his beard. ‘You might be right,’ he conceded grudgingly. ‘We’ve all got lots of time, I suppose, so there’s no great hurry.’

‘I’m glad you agree.’ I squinted at him. ‘Have you managed to get any of your people into the house at Ashaba as yet?’

His eyes suddenly looked startled.

‘It’s the logical thing for you to do, Ctuchik. Zedar’s there taking down Torak’s every word. If you and that pinto-spotted Urvon don’t get some of your people inside, Zedar’s going to have the upper hand.’

‘I’m working on it,’ he replied shortly.

‘I hope so. One of you’d better get your hands on a copy of the Ashabine Oracles before Torak corrupts them into incomprehensibility.’

‘Urvon’s got a copy. I can always take his away from him.’

‘Torak burned Urvon’s copy. Don’t you people even talk to each other?’

‘I don’t have anything to say to Urvon.’

‘Or to Zedar either, I gather. This bickering between the three of you is going to make my job much, much easier.’

‘You aren’t the important one, Belgarath. You’ve had your turn as the Child of Light, and I think you blundered it away. You should have killed Zedar when you had the chance.’

‘You definitely need instructions, Ctuchik. Zedar’s part in all of this isn’t over yet. He’s still got things to do, and if he doesn’t do them, we come right back to that third possibility again. Some of your Grolims have been seized by the spirit of your Necessity. Get good copies of what they’re saying, and don’t tamper with them. Torak’s erasing whole pages of the Ashabine Oracles, so the Prophecies of your Western Grolims might very well end up being all you’ll have to work with. This isn’t a good area for experimentation. Certain things have to happen, and we both have to know about them. I don’t have time to come down here every few centuries to educate you.’