"You two have met before, I take it?" Polgara said with one raised eyebrow.
"Yer honored father an' me are old, old friends, me dear Lady Polgara," Feldegast said with a sweeping bow.
"I know ye all by his description. I must admit, however, that I'm overcome altogether by yer unearthly beauty."
"This is a rare rogue you've found, father," she said with a peculiar smile on her face. "I think I could grow to like him."
"I don't really advise it, Pol. He's a liar and a sneak and he has uncleanly habits. You're evading the question, Feldegast -if that's what you want to call yourself. How far do we have to go through the streets?"
"Not far at all, me decrepit old friend -a half a mile perhaps until the roof of the passage is stout enough again to keep the pavin' stones where they belong instead of on the top of our heads. Let's press on, then. 'Tis a long, long way to the north wall of Mal Zeth, an' the night is wearin' on."
"Decrepit?" Belgarath objected mildly.
"Merely me way of puttin' things, Ancient One," Feldegast apologized. "Be sure that I meant no offense." He turned to Polgara. "Will ye walk with me, me girl?Ye've got an absolutely ravishin' fragrance about ye that quite takes me breath away. I'll walk along beside ye, inhalin' and perishin' with sheer delight."
Polgara laughed helplessly and linked her arm with that of the outrageous little man.
"I like him," Ce'Nedra murmured us Garion as they followed along through the cobwebby passageway.
"Yer supposed to, me girl," Garion said in a not altogether perfect imitation of the juggler's brogue. " 'Tis a part of his charm, don't y' know?"
"Oh, Garion,." she laughed, "I love you."
"Yes," he said. "I know."
She gave him an exasperated look and then punched him in the shoulder with her little fist.
"Ouch."
"Did I hurt you?" she asked, taking his arm in sudden concern.
"I think I can stand it, dear," he replied. "We noble heroes can bear all sorts of things." They followed Feldegast's lantern for a mile or more with the horses clattering along behind them through the cobweb-draped passageway. Occasionally they heard the rumble of the dead-carts bearing their mournful freight through the streets above. Here in the musty darkness, however, there was only the sound of the furtive skittering of an occasional errant mouse and the whisperlike tread of watchful spiders moving cautiously across the vaulted ceiling.
"I hate this," Silk said to no one in particular. "I absolutely hate it."
"That's all right, Kheldar," Velvet replied, taking the little man's hand. "I won't let anything hurt you."
"Thanks awfully." he said, though he did not remove his hand from hers.
"Who's there?" The voice came from somewhere ahead.
"'Tis only me, good Master Yarblek," Feldegast replied. "Me an' a few lost, strayed souls tryin' to find their way on this dark, dark night."
"Do you really enjoy him all that much?" Yarblek said sourly to someone else.
"He's the delight of my life," Vella's voice came through the darkness. "At least with him I don't have to look to my daggers every minute to defend my virtue."Yarblek sighed gustily. "I had a feeling that you were going to say something like that," he said.
"My lady," Vella said, making an infinitely graceful curtsy to Polgara as the sorceress and the juggler, arm in arm, moved up to the place where a moss-grown rockfall blocked the passageway. .
"Vella," Polgara responded in an oddly Nadrak accent. "May your knives always be bright and keen."
There was a strange formality in her greeting, and Garion knew that he was hearing an ancient ritual form of address.
"And may you always have the means at hand to defend your person from unwanted attentions," the Nadrak dancing girl responded automatically, completing the ritual.
"What's happening up above?" Belgarath asked the felt-coated Yarblek.
"They're dying," Yarblek answered shortly, "whole streets at a time."
"Have you been avoiding the city?" Silk asked his partner.
Yarblek nodded. "We're camped outside the gates," he said. "We got out just before they chained them shut. Dolmar died, though. When he realized that he had the plague, he got out an old sword and fell on it."
Silk sighed. "He was a good man -a little dishonest, maybe, but a good man all the same."
Yarblek nodded sadly. "At least he died clean," he said. Then he shook his head. "The stairs up to the street are over here," he said, pointing off into the darkness. "It's late enough so that there's nobody much abroad -except for the dead-carts and the few delirious ones stumbling about and looking for a warm gutter to die in." He squared his shoulders. "Let's go," he said. "The quicker we can get through those streets up there, the quicker we can get back underground where it's safe."
"Does the passage go all the way to the city wall?" Garion asked him.
Yarblek nodded. "And a mile or so beyond," he said.
" It comes out in an old stone quarry." He looked at Feldegast. "You never did tell me how you found out about it," he said.
" 'Tis one of me secrets, good Master Yarblek," the juggler replied. "No matter how honest a man might be, it's always good to know a quick way out of town, don't y' know."
"Makes sense," Silk said.
"You ought to know," Yarblek replied. "Let's get out of here." They led the horses to a flight of stone stairs reaching up into the darkness beyond the circle of light from Feldegast's lantern and then laboriously hauled the reluctant animals up the stairway, one step at a time. The stairway emerged in a rickety shed with a straw-littered floor. After the last horse had been hauled up, Feldegast carefully lowered the long trap door again and scuffed enough straw over it to conceal it. " 'Tis a useful sort of thing," he said, pointing downward toward the hidden passage, "but a secret's no good at all if just anybody kin stumble over it."
Yarblek stood at the door peering out into the narrow alleyway outside.
"Anybody out there?" Silk asked him.
"A few bodies," the Nadrak replied laconically. "For some reason they always seem to want to die in alleys." He drew in a deep breath. "All right, let's go, then."
They moved out into the alley, and Garion kept his eyes averted from the contorted bodies of the plague victims huddled in corners or sprawled in the gutters.