"David Eddings - Belgariad 5 - Enchanter's End Game" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

with that instinct that seemed inborn in all Drasnians, had instantly
recognized the fact that Silk was not what he pretended to be.

"Oh, come now, Mulger," Silk replied with an airy condescension, "don't be
so naive. Every kingdom in the world conceals its intelligence activities
in exactly the same way. The Tolnedrans do it; the Murgos do it; even the
Thulls do it. What do you want me to do - walk around with a sign on my
chest reading 'spy'?"

"Frankly, Ambar, I don't care what you do," Mulger retorted, his lean face
hardening. "All I can say is that I'm getting very tired of being watched
everyplace I go, just because you people can't be trusted."

Silk shrugged with an impudent grin. "It's the way the world is, Mulger.
You might as well get used to it, because it's not going to change."

Mulger glared at the rat-faced little man helplessly, then turned abruptly
and rode back to keep company with his mules.

"Aren't you pushing it a little?" Belgarath suggested, lifting his head
from the apparent doze in which he usually rode. "If you irritate him
enough, he'll denounce you to the border guards, and we'll never get into
Gar og Nadrak."

"Mulger's not going to say a word, old friend," Silk assured him. "If he
does, he'll be held for investigation, too, and there's not a merchant
alive who doesn't have a few things concealed in his packs that aren't
supposed to be there."

"Why don't you just leave him alone?" Belgarath asked.

"It gives me something to do," Silk replied with a shrug. "Otherwise I'd
have to look at the scenery, and eastern Drasnia bores me."

Belgarath grunted sourly, pulled his gray hood up over his head, and
settled back into his nap.

Garion returned to his melancholy thoughts. The gorse bushes which covered
the rolling moors had a depressing gray-green color to them, and the North
Caravan Route wound like a dusty white scar across them. The sky had been
overcast for nearly two weeks, though there was no hint of moisture in the
clouds. They plodded along through a dreary, shadowless world toward the
stark mountains looming on the horizon ahead.

It was the unfairness of it all that upset Garion the most. He had never
asked for any of this. He did not want to be a sorcerer. He did not want to
be the Rivan King. He was not even sure that he really wanted to marry
Princess Ce'Nedra - although he was of two minds about that. The little
Imperial Princess could be - usually when she wanted something - absolutely
adorable. Most of the time, however, she did not want anything, and her