King of The Murgos by David Eddings Read Free Book Online

move his hands in those peculiar gestures. Durnik watched him intently for a few moments, then nodded, and the two of them rode on across to the thicket, dismounted, and went to work.
    The campsite they constructed was well back among the slender tree trunks of the thicket where the force of the wind was broken and the dense branches shed the rain like a thatched roof. The two of them bent a half circle of the tall saplings over and tied their tips to the trunks of other trees to form a dome like framework of considerable size. Then they covered the frame with tent canvas and tied it in place securely. The resulting structure was a round-topped, open-fronted pavilion perhaps as big as a fair-sized room. At the front, they dug in a fire pit and lined it with rocks.
    The rain had soaked down the forest, and collecting dry firewood was difficult, but Garion drew upon the experience he had gained during the quest for the Orb to seek out those sheltered hollows under fallen trees, the spots on the leeward sides of large tree trunks and the brush-choked areas under overhanging rocks where dry twigs and branches could be found. By evening he and Eriond had piled up a considerable supply of wood not far from the fire pit where Polgara and Ce'Nedra were preparing supper.
    There was a small spring several hundred yards on down the slope, and Garion slipped and slid downhill with two leather water bags slung over his shoulders. The light was fading rapidly under the dark, windswept evergreens, and the ruddy glow of their campfire beckoned cheerfully as he started back up through the trees with the full water bags hanging pendulously down against his thighs.
    Polgara had hung her damp cloak on a tree limb and was humming softly to herself as she and Ce'Nedra worked over the fire.
    "Why, thank you, your Majesty," Ce'Nedra said as Garion handed her the water bags. Her little smile was somehow wistful, as if she were making a conscious effort to be light hearted.
    "It's my pleasure, your Majesty," he replied with a florid bow. "A good scullion can always find water when the cook's helper needs it."
    She smiled briefly, kissed his cheek, and then sighed and went back to dicing vegetables for the stew Polgara was stirring.
    After they had eaten, they all sat drowsily before the fire, listening to the sound of the wind in the treetops and the seething hiss of the rain in the forest about them.
    "How far did we come today?" Ce'Nedra asked in a voice near sleep as she leaned wearily against Garion's shoulder.
    "Seven or eight leagues, I'd guess," Durnik replied. "It's slow going when you don't have a road to follow."
    "We'll make better time, once we hit the high road from Muros to the Great Fair," Silk added. His eyes brightened at that thought, and his long, pointed nose started to twitch.
    "Never mind," Belgarath told him.
    "We will need supplies, Belgarath," Silk said, his eyes still bright.
    "I think we'll let Durnik take care of that. People who do business with you always seem to develop this sense of outrage once they've had time to think things through."
    "But, Belgarath, I thought you said that you were in a hurry."
    "I don't quite get the connection."
    "People always travel faster when somebody's chasing them—or hadn't you noticed that?"
    Belgarath gave him a long, hard look. "Just let it drop, Silk," he said, "Why don't we all get some sleep?" he suggested to the rest of them. "We've got a long day tomorrow."
    It was well after midnight when Garion suddenly started into wakefulness. He lay rolled up in his blankets beside Ce'Nedra, listening to her regular breathing and the soft patter of the rain on the tree limbs. The wind had died, and the fire at the front of their snug shelter had burned down to a few ruddy coals. He shook the last remnants of sleep from his mind, trying to remember what it was that had awakened him.
    "Don't make any noise," Belgarath said softly from the far side of the shelter.
    "Did something wake you, too,