The others were clustered in the yard of an abandoned farmstead a league or so beyond the town. “I see you’ve been busy,” Belgarath observed as Silk drove the little carriage up and stopped.
“We needed something to carry the supplies in,” Silk replied glibly.
“Of course.”
“I hope you were able to find something beside beans,” Sadi said. “Soldiers’ rations tend to grow monotonous after awhile.”
“Silk swindled a shopkeeper,” Garion said, opening the leather-covered box at the back of the carriage. “We did rather well, actually.”
“Swindled?” Silk protested.
“Didn’t you?” Garion moved the side of beef so that Polgara could look into the box.
“Well—I suppose so,” Silk admitted, “but swindled is such an awkward way to sum up.”
“It’s perfectly all right, Prince Kheldar.” Polgara almost purred as she took a mental inventory of the items in the box. “To be honest with you, I don’t care how you came by all this.”
He bowed. “My pleasure, Polgara,” he said grandly.
“Yes,” she said absently, “I’m sure you enjoyed it.”
“What did you find out?” Beldin asked Garion.
“Well, for one thing, Zandramas is ahead of us again,” Garion replied. “She went through here a few days ago. She knows that Urvon’s army is coming down through the mountains. He might be moving a little faster than we thought, though, because she’s ordering the civilian population to delay him. They’re more or less ignoring her.”
“Wise decision.” Beldin grunted. “Anything else?”
“She told them that this is all going to be settled before the summer’s over.”
“That agrees with what Cyradis toid us at Ashaba,” Belgarath said. “All right, then. We all know when the meeting’s going to happen. The only thing that’s left to find out is where.”
“That’s why we’re all in such a hurry to get to Kell,” Beldin said. “Cyradis is sitting on that information like a mother hen on a clutch of eggs.”
“What is it?” Belgarath burst out irritably.
“What’s what?”
“I’m missing something. It’s something important and it’s something you told me.”
“I’ve told you lots of things, Belgarath. You don’t usually listen, though.”
“This was a while back. It seems to me we were sitting in my tower, talking.”
“We’ve done that from time to time over the last several thousand years.”
“No. This was more recent. Eriond was there and he was just a boy.”
“That would put it at about ten years or so ago, then.”
“Right.”
“What were we doing ten years ago?” Belgarath began to pace up and down, scowling. “I’d been helping Durnik. We were making Poledra’s cottage livable. You’d been here in Mallorea.”
Beldin scratched reflectively at his stomach. “I think I remember the time. We were sharing a cask of ale you’d stolen from the twins, and Eriond was scrubbing the floor.”
“What were you telling me?”
Beldin shrugged. “I’d just come back from Mallorea. I was describing conditions here and telling you about the Sardion—although we didn’t know very much about it at that point.”
“No,” Belgarath shook his head. “That wasn’t it. You said something about Kell.”
Beldin frowned, thinking back. “It must not have been very important, because neither of us seems to be able to remember it.”
“It seems to me it was just something you said in passing.”
“I say a lot of things in passing. They help to fill up the blank spaces in a conversation. Are you certain it was all that important? “
Belgarath nodded. “I’m sure of it.”
“All right. Let’s see if we can track it down.”
“Won’t this wait, father?” Polgara asked.
“No, Pol. I don’t think so. We’re right on the edge of it, and I don’t want to lose it again.”
“Let’s see,” Beldin said, his ugly face creased with thought. “I came in, and you and Eriond were cleaning. You offered me some of the ale you’d stolen from the twins. You asked me what I’d been doing since Belgarion’s wedding, and I told you I’d been keeping an eye on the Angaraks.”
“Yes,” Belgarath agreed. “I remember that part.”
“I told you that the Murgos were in general despair about the death of Taur Urgas, and that the western Grolims had gone to pieces over the death of Torak.”
“Then you told me about Zakath’s campaign in Cthol Murgos and about how he’d added the Kal to his name.”
“That actually wasn’t my idea,” Zakath said with a slightly pained look. “Brador came up with it—as a means of unifying Mallorean society.” He made a wry face. “It didn’t really work all that well, I guess.”
“Things do seem a bit disorganized here,” Silk agreed.
“What did we talk about then?” Belgarath asked.
“Well,” Beldin replied, “as I remember it, we told Eriond the story of Vo Mimbre, and then you asked me what was going on in Mallorea. I told you that things were all pretty much the same—that the bureaucracy’s the glue that holds everything together, that there were plots and intrigues in Melcena and Mal Zeth, that Karanda and Darshiva and Gandahar were on the verge of open rebellion, and that the Grolims—” He stopped, his eyes suddenly going very wide.
“Are still afraid to go near Kell!” Belgarath completed it in a shout of triumph. “That’s it!”
Beldin smacked his forehead with his open palm. “How could I have been so stupid?” he exclaimed. Then he fell over on his back, howling with laughter and kicking at the ground in sheer delight. “We’ve got her, Belgarath!” he roared. “We’ve got them all—Zandramas, Urvon, even Agachak! They can’t go to Kell!”
Belgarath was also laughing uproariously. “How did we miss it?”
“Father,” Polgara said ominously. “This is beginning to make me cross. Will one of you please explain all this hysteria?”
Beldin and Belgarath were capering hand in hand in a grotesque little dance of glee.
“Will you two stop that?” Polgara snapped.
“Oh, this is just too rare, Pol,” Beldin gasped, catching her in a bear hug.
“Don’t do that! Just talk!”
“All right, Pol,” he said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. “Kell is the holy place of the Dais. It’s the center of their whole culture.”
“Yes, uncle. I know that.”
“When the Angaraks overran Dalasia, the Grolims came in to erase the Dalasian religion and to replace it with the worship of Torak—the same way they did in Karanda. When they found out the significance of Kell, they moved to destroy it. The Dais had to prevent that, so they put their wizards to work on the problem. The wizards laid curses on the entire region around Kell.” He frowned. “Maybe curses isn’t the right word,” he admitted. “Enchantments might be closer, but it amounts to the same thing. Anyway, since the Grolims were the real danger to Kell, the enchantments were directed at them. Any Grolim who tries to approach Kell is struck blind.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?” she asked him tartly.
“I’ve never really paid that much attention to it. I probably even forgot about it. I don’t bother to go into Dalasia because the Dais are all mystics, and mysticism has always irritated me. The seers all talk in riddles, and necromancy seems like a waste of time to me. I wasn’t even sure if the enchantments really worked. Grolims are very gullible sometimes. A suggestion of a curse would probably work just as well as a real one.”
“You know,” Belgarath mused, “I think the reason we missed it was because we’ve been concentrating on the fact that Urvon, Zandramas, and Agachak are all sorcerers. We kept overlooking the fact that they’re also Grolims.”
“Is this curse—or whatever you call it—aimed specifically at the Grolims,” Garion asked, “or would it affect us, too?”
Beldin scratched at his beard. “It’s a good question, Belgarath,” he said. “That’s not the sort of thing you’d want to risk lightly.”
“Senji!” Belgarath snapped his fingers.
“I didn’t quite follow that.”
“Senji went to Kell, remember? And even as inept as he is, he’s still a sorcerer.”
“That’s it, then,” Beldin grinned. “We can go to Kell, and they can’t. They’ll have to follow us for a change.”
“What about the demons?” Dumik asked soberly. “Nahaz is already marching toward Kell, and as far as we know, Zandramas has Mordja with her. Would they be able to go to Kell? What I’m getting at is that even if Urvon and Zandramas can’t go there, couldn’t they just send the demons instead to get the information for them?”
Beldin shook his head. “It wouldn’t do them any good. Cyradis won’t let a demon anywhere near her copy of the Maflorean Gospels. No matter what other faults they have, the seers refuse to have anything to do with the agents of chaos.”
“Could she prevent either of the demons from just taking what they want, though?” Durnik looked worried. “Let’s face it, Beldin. A demon is a fairly awful thing.”
“She can take care of herself,” Beldin replied. “Don’t worry about Cyradis.”
“Master Beldin,” Zakath objected, “she’s little more than a child, and with her eyes bound like that, she’s utterly helpless.”
Beldin laughed coarsely. “Helpless? Cyradis? Man, are you out of your mind? She could probably stop the sun if she needed to. We can’t even begin to make guesses about how much power she has.”
“I don’t understand.” Zakath looked baffled.
“Cyradis is the focus of all the power of her race, Zakath,” Polgara explained. “Not only the power of the Dais who are presently alive, but also that of all of them who have ever lived.”
“Or who might live in the future, for all we know,” Belgarath added.
“That’s an interesting idea,” Beldin said. “We might want to discuss it someday. Anyway,” he continued to Zakath, “Cyradis can do just about anything she has to do to make sure the final meeting takes place at the correct time and the correct place. Demons aren’t a part of that meeting, so she’ll probably just ignore them; and if they get too troublesome, she’ll just send them back where they came from.”
“Can you do that?”
Beldin shook his head.
“But she can?”
“I think so, yes.”
“I’m having a little trouble with all this,” Silk admitted. “If none of the Grolims can go to Kell without going blind, and if the demons aren’t going to find out anything, even if they do go there, why are they all running toward it? What good’s it going to do them?”
“They’re putting themselves into a position where they can follow us when we come out,” Belgarath replied. “They know we can go there and that we’ll find out where the meeting is going to take place. They probably plan to tag along behind when we leave.”
“That’s going to make it very nervous when we leave Kell, isn’t it? We’ll have half the Grolims in the world right behind us.”
“Everything will work out, Silk,” Belgarath replied confidently.
“Fatalism does not fill me with confidence at this point, old man,” Silk said acidly.
Belgarath’s expression became almost beatific. “Trust me,” he said.
Silk glared at him, threw his arms in the air, and then stamped away, swearing under his breath.
“You know, I’ve been wanting to do that to him for years,” the old man chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. “I think it was actually worth the wait. All right. Let’s get things together again and move on.”
They transferred some of the supplies from the box across the back of the little carriage to the packhorses, and then Duraik stood considering the vehicle thoughtfully. “It’s not going to work,” he said.
“What’s wrong with it?” Silk asked him a bit defensively.
“The horse has to be hitched between those shafts. If we put the wolf on the seat, she’ll be right behind him. He’ll bolt at that point. Nothing could stop him.”
“I suppose I didn’t think of that,” Silk said glumly.
“It’s the smell of the wolf that sends horses into such a panic, isn’t it?” Velvet asked.
“That and the snapping and snarling,” Duraik replied.
“Belgarion can persuade her not to snap and snarl.”
“What about the smell?” Silk asked.
“I’ll take care of that.” She went to one of the packs and removed a small glass bottle. “I expect you to buy me some more of this, Prince Kheldar,” she said firmly. “You stole the wrong kind of carriage, so it’s up to you to replace what I have to use to smooth over your blunder.”
“What is it?” he asked suspiciously.
“Perfume, Kheldar, and it’s dreadfully expensive.” She looked at Garion, her smile dimpling her cheeks. “I’ll need you to translate for me,” she said. “I wouldn’t want the wolf to misunderstand when I start to sprinkle this on her.”
“Of course.”
When the two of them returned from the sledlike contraption the wolf and her puppy were riding in, they found Ce’Nedra firmly ensconced on the front seat of the smart little carriage. “This will do very nicely, Prince Kheldar,” she said brightly. “Thank you ever so much.”
“But-”
“Was there something?” she asked, her eyes wide.
Silk’s expression grew surly, and he wandered away muttering to himself.
“His morning has taken a turn for the worse, hasn’t it?” Zakath observed to Garion.
“He’s doing all right,” Garion replied. “He got all the entertainment out of cheating that merchant and stealing the carriage. He gets unbearable if he has too many successes in a row. Ce’Nedra and Liselle usually manage to let the air out of him, though.”
“You mean they cooked all that up between them?”
“They didn’t have to. They’ve been doing it for so long now that they don’t even have to discuss it any more.”
“Do you think Liselle’s perfume will work?”
“There’s one way to find out,” Garion said.
They transferred the injured wolf from the sled to the front seat of the two-wheeled carriage and dabbed some perfume on the bridge of the horse’s nose. Then they stepped back and looked closely at the horse while Ce’Nedra held the reins tightly. The horse looked a bit suspicious, but did not panic. Garion went back for the puppy and deposited him in Ce’Nedra’s lap. She smiled, patted the she-wolf on the head, and shook the reins gently.
“That’s really unfair,” Silk complained to Garion as they all moved out in the Rivan Queen’s wake.
“Did you want to share that seat with the she-wolf?” Garion asked him.
Silk frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that, I guess,” he admitted. “She wouldn’t really bite me, though, would she?”
“I don’t think so, but then, you never know with wolves.”
“I think I’ll stay where I am, then.”
“That might be a good idea.”
“Aren’t you just a little worried about Ce’Nedra? That wolf could eat her in two bites.”
“No. She won’t do that. She knows that Ce’Nedra’s my mate and she sort of likes me.”
“Ce’Nedra’s your wife.” Silk shrugged. “If the wolf bites her in two, I suppose Polgara could put her back together again.”
As they started out, a thought came to Garion. He rode forward and fell in beside Zakath. “You’re the Emperor of Mallorea, right?”
“How nice of you to notice finally,” Zakath replied dryly.
“Then how is it that you didn’t know about that curse Belgarth was talking about?”
“As you may have noticed, Garion, I pay very little attention to the Grolims. I knew that most of them wouldn’t go there, but I thought it was just a superstition of some kind.”
“A good ruler tries to know everything he can about his kingdom,” Garion said, then realized how priggish that sounded. “Sorry, Zakath,” he apologized. “That didn’t come out exactly the way I’d intended it to.”
“Garion,” Zakath said patiently, “your kingdom’s a small island. I’d imagine you know most of your subjects personally.”
“Well, a lot of them—by sight, anyway.”
“I thought you might. You know their problems, their dreams, and their hopes, and you take a personal interest in them.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I do.”
“You’re a good king—probably one of the best in the world—but it’s very easy to be a good king when your kingdom is so small. You’ve seen my empire, though—part of it anyway—and I’m sure you have at least some idea of how many people live here. It would be utterly impossible for me to be a good king. That’s why I’m an emperor instead.”
“And a God?” Garion asked slyly.
“No. I’ll leave that particular delusion to Urvon and Zandramas. People’s wits seem to slip a bit when they aspire to divinity, and, believe me, I need all my wits about me. I found that out after I’d wasted half my life trying to destroy Taur Urgas.”
“Garion, dear,” Ce’Nedra called from the carriage.
“Yes?”
““Could you come back here a moment? The wolf is whimpering a little, and I don’t know how to ask her what the trouble is.”
“I’ll be right back,” Garion said to Zakath, turning Chretienne around and trotting back to the carriage.
Ce’Nedra sat in the carriage with the wolf pup in her lap. The little creature lay blissfully on his back with all four paws in the air while she scratched his furry tummy.
The she-wolf lay on the seat beside her. The wolfs ears were twitching and her eyes were mournful.
“Are you in pain?” Garion asked her.
“Does this she of yours always talk this much?” she whined.
It was impossible to lie, and evasion was almost as much out of the question. “Yes,” he admitted.
“Can you make her stop?”
“I can try.” He looked at Ce’Nedra. “The wolf is very tired,” he told her. “She wants to go to sleep.”
“I’m not stopping her.”
“You’ve been talking to her,” he pointed out gently.
“I was only trying to make friends with her, Garion.”
“You’re already friends. She likes you. Now let her go to sleep.”
Ce’Nedra pouted. “I won’t bother her,” she said, sounding a bit injured. “I’ll talk to the puppy instead.”
“He’s tired, too.”
“How can they be so tired in the daytime?”
“Wolves usually hunt at night. This is their normal sleeping time.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that. All right, Garion. Tell her that I’ll be quiet while they sleep.”
“Little sister,” he said to the wolf, “she promises not to talk to you if your eyes are closed.”
The wolf gave him a puzzled look.
“She will think you’re sleeping.”
The wolf managed to look shocked. “Is it possible in the language of the man-things to say that which is not truth?”
“Sometimes.”
“How remarkable. Very well,” she said. “If it is the rule of the pack, I will do this. It is, however, very unnatural.”
“Yes. I know.”
“I will close my eyes,” the wolf said. “I will keep them closed all day if it will keep her from chattering at me.” She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes.
“Is she asleep?” Ce’Nedra whispered.
“I think so,” Garion whispered back. Then he turned and rode back to the head of the column.
The countryside grew more hilly and broken as they rode west. Although the overcast continued to be as heavy as before, there appeared to be some hint of light along the western horizon as afternoon progressed.
They clattered across a stone bridge that arched over a tumbling stream. “It smells clean, Belgarath,” Durnik said. “I think it’s coming down out of the mountains.”
Belgarath squinted up the gully from which the stream emerged. “Why don’t you have a look?” he suggested. “See if there’s a place to make camp. Good water has been hard to find, so let’s not pass any up.”
“I was thinking the same thing myself.” Then the smith and his towering mute friend rode off upstream.
They set up camp for the night several hundred yards up the gully where a bend in the stream had opened out a kind of curved gravel bench. After they had watered the horses and set up the tents, Polgara began cooking supper. She cut steaks from the side of beef and made a thick soup of dried peas, seasoned with chunks of ham. Then she set a large loaf of dark peasant bread near the fire to warm, humming to herself all the while. As always, cooking seemed to satisfy some deep-seated need in her.
The supper which came from her fire that evening was of near-banquet proportions, and evening was settling in as they finished eating and leaned back contentedly.
“Very good, Pol.” Beldin belched. “I guess you haven’t lost your touch after all.”
“Thank you, uncle.” She smiled. Then she looked at Eriond. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she told him. “At least not until you’ve finished helping with the dishes.”
Eriond sighed and took a bucket down to the stream for water.
“That used to be my job,” Garion told Zakath. “I’m glad there’s someone younger along this time.”
“Isn’t that women’s work?”
“Would you like to tell her that?”
“Ah—now that you mention it, perhaps not.”
“You learn very fast, Zakath.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever washed a dish—not in my entire life.”
“I’ve washed enough for both of us, and I wouldn’t say that too loudly. She might decide that it’s time for you to learn how.” Garion gave Polgara a speculative sidelong glance. “Let’s go feed the wolf and her puppy,” he suggested. “Idleness in others irritates Aunt Pol for some reason, and she can almost always think of things for people to do.”
“Garion, dear,” Polgara said sweetly as they rose. “After the dishes are done, we’ll need water for bathing.”
“Yes, Aunt Pol,” he said automatically. “You see?” he muttered to the Emperor of Mallorea, “I knew we hadn’t moved quite fast enough.”
“Do you always do what she asks? And does she mean me, too?”
Garion sighed. “Yes,” he replied, “on both counts.”
They rose early the next morning, and Beldin soared off to scout on ahead while the rest ate breakfast, struck camp, and saddled their horses. The damp, sullen chill which had hovered over this desolate countryside was now edged with a drier kind of cold as the prevailing wind swept down from the summits of the Dalasian mountains. Garion pulled his cloak about him and rode on. They had gone only a league or so when Beldin spiraled down out of the overcast sky. “I think you’d better turn south,” he advised. “Urvon’s just ahead, and his whole army’s right behind him.”
Belgarath swore.
“There’s more,” the hunchback told him. “The Darshivans managed to get past Atesca—or through him. They’re coming up from behind. The elephants are leading the inarch. We’re right between two armies here.”
“How far ahead of us is Urvon?” Belgarath asked him.
“Six or eight leagues. He’s in the foothills of the mountains.”
“And how far behind us are the elephants?”
“About five leagues. It looks to me as if they’re going to try to cut Urvon’s column off. There’s no help for it, Belgarath. We’re going to have to run. We have to get out of the middle of this before the fighting starts.”
“Is Atesca pursuing Zandramas’ army?” Zakath asked intently.
“No. I think he followed your orders and pulled back to that enclave on the bank of the Magan.”
Belgarath was still swearing. “How did Urvon get this far south so fast?” he muttered.
“He’s killing his troops by the score,” Beldin replied. “He’s making them run, and Nahaz has demons whipping them along.”
“I guess we don’t have any choice,” Belgarath said. “We’ll have to go south. Toth, will you be able to lead us to Kell if we go into the mountains down near the border of Gandahar?”
The big mute nodded, then gestured to Durnik.
“It’s going to be more difficult, though,” the smith translated. “The mountains are very rugged down there, and there’s still a lot of snow at the higher elevations.”
“We’ll lose a lot of time, Grandfather,” Garion said.
“Not as much as we’ll lose if we get caught in the middle of a battle. All right. Let’s go south.”
“In a moment, father,” Polgara said. “Ce’Nedra,” she called, “come up here.”
Ce’Nedra shook her reins and drove her carriage up to where they stood.
Polgara quickly explained the situation to her. “Now then,” she said, “we need to know exactly what they’re doing and what they’re planning to do—both armies. I think it’s time for you to use my sister’s amulet.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Belgarath said, sounding a bit embarrassed.
“You were too busy trying to remember all the swearwords you’ve ever heard,” Beldin suggested.
“Can you do that and drive the carriage at the same time?” Polgara asked the little queen.
“I can try, Lady Polgara.” Ce’Nedra sounded a little dubious. She lifted the sleeping puppy out of her lap and laid him beside his mother.
“Let’s move out,” Belgarath said.
They turned off the road and jolted across an open field through long-dead grass. After they had gone a short distance, Ce’Nedra called to Polgara. “It’s not working, Lady Polgara,” she said. “I need both hands on the reins on this rough ground.”
They reined in.
“It’s not that big a problem,” Velvet said. “I’ll lead the carriage horse, and Ce’Nedra can concentrate on what she’s doing.”
“It’s a little dangerous, Liselle,” Belgarath objected. “If that carriage horse shies, he’ll jerk you out of the saddle and the carriage will run right over you.”
“Have you ever seen me fall off a horse, Ancient One? Don’t worry, I’ll be perfectly fine.” She rode over to the carriage horse and took hold of his reins. They started out slowly and then gradually picked up speed. Polgara rode beside the carriage, and Ce’Nedra, a little frown of concentration on her face, kept her hand on the amulet chained about her throat.
“Anything?” Polgara asked.
“I’m hearing a lot of random conversation, Lady Polgara,” the little queen replied. “There are great numbers of people out there. Wait a minute,” she said, “I think I’ve pinpointed Nahaz. That’s not the sort of voice you forget.” She frowned. “I think he’s talking to Urvon’s generals. They’ve had the Hounds out, so they know the elephants are coming.”
“Will you be able to come back to them?” Belgarath asked her.
“I think so. Once I find somebody, I can usually locate him again fairly quickly.”
“Good. See if you can find out if the Darshivan generals know that Urvon’s just ahead of them. If there’s going to be a battle, I want to know exactly where it’s going to happen.”
Ce’Nedra turned slightly, her amulet clenched tightly in her fist. She closed her eyes. After a moment, she opened them. “I do wish they’d be still,” she fretted.
“Who?” Silk asked her.
“The elephant herders. They babble worse than old women. Wait. There they are. I’ve got them now.” She listened for a few moments as the carriage jolted along over the rough ground. “The Darshivan officers are very worried,” she reported. “They know that Urvon’s army is somewhere in the mountains, but they don’t know his exact location. None of their scouts came back to report.”
“The Hounds are probably seeing to that,” Silk said.
“What are the Darshivans planning?” Belgarath asked.
“They’re undecided. They’re going to push on cautiously and send out more scouts.”
“All right. Now see if you can go back to Nahaz.”
“I’ll try.” She closed her eyes again. “Oh, that’s revolting!” she exclaimed after a moment.
“What is it, dear?” Polgara asked her.
“The Karands have found a narrow gorge. They’re going to lure the elephants into it and then roll boulders and burning bushes down on them from the top.” She listened for a few moments longer. “Once they’ve eliminated the elephants, the whole army is going to charge down out of the foothills and attack the rest of the Darshivans.”
“Is Urvon there?” Beldin asked, his eyes intent.
“No. He’s off to the side someplace. He’s raving.”
“I think you’d better go find that gorge,” Belgarath told the dwarf. “That’s where the battle’s going to be, and I want to be sure it’s behind us and not on up ahead somewhere.”
“Right,” Beldin agreed, crouching and spreading his arms. “Keep in touch,” he suggested even as he began to change form.
They rode along at a careful walk, and Garion buckled on his shield.
“Do you really think that’s going to help if we run into an entire army?” Zakath asked him.
“It may not help much, but it won’t hurt.”
Belgarath rode now with his face lifted toward the murky sky. Garion could feel the old man’s thought reaching out.
“Not so loud, father,” Polgara cautioned. “We’ve got Grolims all around us.”
“Good,” he replied. “None of them will be able to tell who’s making the noise. They’ll all think it’s just another Grolim.” They rode on slowly with all of them watching the old sorcerer. “North!” he exploded finally. “Beldin’s found the gorge where the ambush is. It’s behind us. A little hard riding now and we’ll be completely clear of both armies.”
“Why don’t we just sort of step right along, then?” Silk suggested.