Castle of Wizardry

outbursts. She never began at the top of her voice, but rather worked her way up to it with an impressively swelling crescendo. She had just reached the point of launching herself into full voice when she was suddenly brought up short.
    "What an absolutely charming display of good breeding," Aunt Pol observed calmly to Durnik. "All of Garion's old friends will be terribly impressed by this sort of thing, don't you think?"
    Durnik looked away, hiding a smile. "I'm sure of it, Mistress Pol."
    Ce'Nedra's mouth was still open, but her tirade had been cut off instantly. Garion was amazed at her sudden silence. "I was being a bit silly, wasn't I?" she said after a moment. Her tone was reasonable almost sweet-natured.
    "Yes, dear just a bit," Aunt Pol agreed.
    "Please forgive me - all of you." Ce'Nedra's voice dripped honey.
    "Don't overdo it, Ce'Nedra," Aunt Pol told her.
    It was perhaps noon of the following day when they turned off the main road leading to Erat into the country lane that led to Faldor's farm. Since that morning, Garion's excitement had risen to almost intolerable heights. Every milepost, every bush and tree was familiar to him now. And over there - wasn't that old Cralto riding an unsaddled horse on some errand for Faldor? Finally, at the sight of a tall, familiar figure clearing brush and twigs from a drainage ditch, he was no longer able to restrain himself. He drove his heels into his horse's flanks, smoothly jumped a fence and galloped across the snowy field toward the solitary worker.
    "Rundorig!" he shouted, hauling his horse to a stop and flinging himself from his saddle.
    "Your Honor?" Rundorig replied, blinking with astonishment.
    "Rundorig, it's me - Garion. Don't you recognize me?"
    "Garion?" Rundorig blinked several more times, peering intently into Garion's face. The light dawned slowly in his eyes like a sunrise on a murky day. "Why, I believe you're right," he marvelled. "You are Garion, aren't you?"
    "Of course I am, Rundorig," Garion exclaimed, reaching out to take his friend's hand.
    But Rundorig shoved both hands behind him and stepped back. "Your clothing, Garionl Have a care. I'm all over mud."
    "I don't care about my clothes, Rundorig. You're my friend."
    The tall lad shook his head stubbornly. "You mustn't get mud on them. They're too splendid. Plenty of time to shake hands after I clean up." He stared curiously at Garion. "Where did you get such fine things? And a sword? You'd better not let Faldor see you wearing a sword. You know he doesn't approve of that sort of thing."
    Somehow things were not going the way they were supposed to be going. "How's Doroon?" Garion asked, "and Zubrette?"
    "Doroon moved away last summer," Rundorig replied after a moment's struggle to remember. "I think his mother remarried - anyway, they're on a farm down on the other side of Winold. And Zubrette well, Zubrette and I started walking out together not too long after you left." The tall young man suddenly blushed and looked down in embarrassed confusion. "There's a sort of an understanding between us, Garion," he blurted.
    "How splendid, Rundorig!" Garion explained quickly to cover the little dagger cut of disappointment.
    Rundorig, however, had already taken the next step. "I know that you and she were always fond of each other," he said, his long face miserably unhappy. "I'll have a talk with her." He looked up, tears standing in his eyes. "It wouldn't have gone so far, Garion, except that none of us thought that you were ever coming back."
    "I haven't really, Rundorig," Garion quickly assured his friend. "We only came by to visit and to pick up some things we left behind. Then we'll be off again."
    "Have you come for Zubrette, too?" Rundorig asked in a numb, stricken sort of voice that tore at Garion's heart.
    "Rundorig," he said it very calmly, "I don't even have a home any more. One night I sleep in a palace; the next night in the mud beside the road. Would either one of us want that kind of life for Zubrette?"
    "I think she'd go with you if you asked her to, though," Rundorig said. "I think she'd endure anything to be with you."
    "But we won't let her, will we? So far as we're concerned, the understanding between the two of you is official."
    "I could never lie to her, Garion," the tall boy objected.
    "I could," Garion said bluntly. "Particularly if it will keep her from living out her life as a homeless vagabond. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking." He grinned