"Are you still angry with me, Garion?" Zakath asked.

Garion sighed. "No, I guess not," he said. "I don't think I was really angry just a little irritated, is all. Most of all, I'm angry with Zandramas, not with you and Cyradis. I don't like people who play tricks on my wife."

"It really had to happen, you know. Zandramas had to find out where the meeting's going to take place. She has to be there, too."

"You're probably right. Did Cyradis give you any details about your task?"

"A few. I'm not supposed to talk about it, though. About all I can tell you is that somebody very important is coming, and I'm supposed to help him."

"And that's going to take you the rest of your life?"

"And probably the lives of a lot of others, as well."

"Mine, too?"

"I don't think so. I think your task will be over after the meeting. Cyradis sort of implied that you've done enough already."

They set out early that morning and rode out onto a rolling plain along the west side of the Balasa River. There were farm villages here and there, villages that looked rude, but in which the houses were really very well constructed. The Dalasian villagers labored in the fields with the simplest of tools.

"And it's all subterfuge," Zakath said wryly. "These people are probably far more sophisticated than even the Melcenes, and they've gone to a great deal of trouble to hide the feet."

"Would thy people or the priests of Torak have left them unmolested had the truth been known?" Cyradis asked him.

"Probably not," he admitted. "The Melcenes in particular would likely have pressed most of the Dals into service in the bureaucracy.”

"That would not have been compatible with our tasks."

"I understand that now. When I get back to Mal Zeth, I think I'll make some changes in imperial policy toward the Dalasian Protectorates. Your people are doing something much, much more important than raising beets and turnips for the rest of Mallorea."

"If all goes well, our work will be done once the meeting hath taken place, Emperor Zakath.”

"But your studies will continue, won't they?"

She smiled. "Inevitably. The habits of eons die very hard."

Belgarath pulled his horse in beside Cyradis. "Could you be a bit more specific about what we're supposed to be looking for when we get to Perivor?" he asked her.

"It is as I told thee at Kell, Ancient Belgarath. At Perivor thou must seek out the map that will guide thee to the Place Which Is No More."

“How is it that the people of Perivor know more about it than the rest of the world?”

She did not reply.

"I gather that this is another one of those things you're not going to tell me."

"I may not at this time, Belgarath."

Beldin came soaring in. "You'd better get ready," he said. "There's a patrol of Darshivan soldiers just ahead."