Castle of Wizardry

sudden mirth startling in the darkness. "He's turning savage on us, isn't he?"
    "His skill is noteworthy, however," Mandorallen replied approvingly.
    Garion's spirits soared. He looked around eagerly for someone else to fight, but the Murgos were all dead. "Were they alone?" he demanded, somewhat out of breath. "I mean, were there any others coming along behind them? Maybe we should go look."
    "We do want them to find our trail, after all," Silk reminded him. "It's up to you of course, Garion, but if we exterminate all the Murgos in the area, there won't be anyone left to report our direction back to Rak Cthol, will there?"
    "Oh," Garion said, feeling a little sheepish, "I forgot about that."
    "You have to keep the grand plan in view, Garion, and not lose sight of it during these little side adventures."
    "Maybe I got carried away."
    "A good leader can't afford to do that."
    "All right." Garion began to feel embarrassed.
    "I just wanted to be sure you understood, that's all."
    Garion didn't answer, but he began to see what it was about Silk that irritated Belgarath so much. Leadership was enough of a burden without these continuously comments from the weasel-faced little man to complicate things.
    "Are you all right?" Taiba was saying to Relg with a strange note of concern in her voice. The Ulgo was still on his knees beside the body of the Murgo he had killed.
    "Leave me alone," he told her harshly.
    "Don't be stupid. Are you hurt? Let me see."
    "Don't touch me!" He cringed away from her outstretched hand. "Belgarion, make her get away from me."
    Garion groaned inwardly. "What's the trouble now?" he asked.
    "I killed this man," Relg replied. "There are certain things I have to do - certain prayers - purification. She's interfering."
    Garion resisted an impulse to swear. "Please, Taiba," he said as calmly as he could, "just leave him alone."
    "I just wanted to see if he was all right," Taiba answered a bit petulantly. "I wasn't hurting him." She had an odd look on her face that Garion could not begin to understand. As she stared at the kneeling Ulgo, a curious little smile flickered across her lips. Without warning, she reached her hand out toward him again.
    Relg shrank back. "No!" he gasped.
    Taiba chuckled, a throaty, wicked little sound, and walked away, humming softly to herself. After Relg had performed his ritual of purification over the dead Murgo's body, they remounted and rode on. The sliver of moon stood high overhead in the chill sky, casting a pale light down on the black sands, and Garion looked about constantly as he rode, trying to pick out any possible dangers lurking ahead. He glanced frequently at Aunt Pol, wishing that she were not so completely cut off from him, but she seemed to be totally absorbed in maintaining her shield of will. She rode with Errand pulled closely against her, and her eyes were distant, unfathomable. Garion looked hopefully at Belgarath, but the old man, though he looked up from his doze at times, seemed largely unaware of his surroundings. Garion sighed, and his eyes resumed their nervous scrutiny of the trail ahead. They rode on through the tag-end of night in the biting chill with the faint moonlight about them and the stars glittering like points of ice in the sky above.
    Suddenly Garion heard a roaring in his mind - a sound that had a peculiar echo to it - and the shield of force surrounding Aunt Pol shimmered with an ugly orange glow. He jerked his will in sharply and gestured with a single word. He had no idea what word he used, but it seemed to work. Like a horse blundering into a covey of feeding birds, his will scattered the concerted attack on Aunt Pol and Errand. There had been more than one mind involved in the attack - he sensed that - but it seemed to make no difference. He caught a momentary flicker of chagrin and even fear as the joined wills of Aunt Pol's attackers broke and fled from him.
    "Not bad,"the voice in his mind observed. "A little clumsy, perhaps, but not bad at all."
    "It's the first time I ever did it, " Garion replied. "I'll get better with more practice."
    "Don't get overconfident," the voice advised dryly, and then it was gone.
    He was growing stronger, there was no doubt about that. The ease with which he had dispersed the combined wills of that group of Grolims Aunt Pol had called the Hierarchs amazed him. He faintly began to understand what Aunt Pol and Belgarath meant in their use of the word "talent." There seemed to be some kind of