Castle of Wizardry

Aunt Pol and looked her full in the face. She said nothing as she took the child, but her expression told him plainly that something very important had just happened.
    As he turned to remount his horse, he felt that someone was watching him, and he turned quickly toward the group of riders that had accompanied Queen Silar from the Stronghold. Just behind the queen was a tall girl mounted on a roan horse. She had long, dark brown hair, and the eyes she had fixed on Garion were gray, calm, and very serious. Her horse pranced nervously, and she calmed him with a quiet word and a gentle touch, then turned to gaze openly at Garion again. He had the peculiar feeling that he ought to know her.
    The wagon creaked as Durnik shook the reins to start the team, and they all followed King Cho-Hag and Queen Silar through a narrow gate into the Stronghold. Garion saw immediately that there were no buildings inside the towering fortress. Instead there was a maze of stone walls perhaps twenty feet high twisting this way and that without any apparent plan.
    "But where is thy city, your Majesty?" Mandorallen asked in perplexity.
    "Inside the walls themselves," King Cho-Hag replied. "They're thick enough and high enough to give us all the room we could possibly need."
    "What purpose hath all this, then?"
    "It's just a trap." The king shrugged. "We permit attackers to break through the gates, and then we deal with them in here. We want to go this way." He led them along a narrow alleyway.
    They dismounted in a courtyard beside the vast wall. Barak and Hettar unhooked the latches and swung the side of the wagon down. Barak tugged thoughtfully at his beard as he looked at the sleeping Belgarath. "It would probably disturb him less if we just took him inside bed and all," he suggested.
    "Right," Hettar agreed, and the two of them climbed up into the wagon to lift out the sorcerer's bed.
    "Just don't bounce him around," Polgara cautioned. "And don't drop him."
    "We've got him, Polgara," Barak assured her. "I know you might not believe it, but we're almost as concerned about him as you are."
    With the two big men carrying the bed, they passed through an arched doorway into a wide, torch-lighted corridor and up a flight of stairs, then along another hallway to another flight.
    "Is it much farther?" Barak asked. Sweat was running down his face into his beard. "This bed isn't getting any lighter, you know."
    "Just up here," the Algar Queen told him.
    "I hope he appreciates all this when he wakes up," Barak grumbled. The room to which they carried Belgarath was large and airy. A glowing brazier stood in each corner and a broad window overlooked the maze inside the walls of the Stronghold. A canopied bed stood against one wall and a large wooden tub against the other.
    "This will be just fine," Polgara said approvingly. "Thank you, Silar."
    "We love him too, Polgara," Queen Silar replied quietly.
    Polgara drew the drapes, darkening the room. Then she turned back the covers, and Belgarath was transferred to the canopied bed so smoothly that he did not even stir.
    "He looks a little better," Silk said.
    "He needs sleep, rest and quiet more than anything right now," Polgara told him, her eyes intent on the old man's sleeping face.
    "We'll leave you with him, Polgara," Queen Silar said. She turned to the rest of them. "Why don't we all go down to the main hall? Supper's nearly ready, but in the meantime I'll have some ale brought in."
    Barak's eyes brightened noticeably, and he started toward the door. "Barak," Polgara called to him, "aren't you and Hettar forgetting something?" She looked pointedly at the bed they had used for a stretcher.
    Barak sighed. He and Hettar picked up the bed again.
    "I'll send some supper up for you, Polgara," the queen said.
    "Thank you, Silar." Aunt Pol turned to Garion, her eyes grave. "Stay for a few moments, dear," she asked, and he remained as the others all quietly left.
    "Close the door, Garion," she said, pulling a chair up beside the sleeping old man's bed.
    He shut the door and crossed the room back to her. "Is he really getting better, Aunt Pol?"
    She nodded. "I think we're past the immediate danger. He seems stronger physically. But it's not his physical body I'm worried aboutit's his mind. That's why I wanted to talk to you alone."
    Garion felt a sudden cold grip of fear. "His mind?"
    "Keep your voice down, dear," she told him quietly. "This has to be kept strictly between us." Her eyes were still on