Castle of Wizardry

probably make me wish I hadn't."
    "Age is bringing you wisdom, I see." Durnik grinned at him. "If anyone wants me, I'll be here."
    Garion put his hand briefly on Durnik's shoulder and then left the stable to go looking for Aunt Pol.
    He found her in the company of women in the apartment that appeared to have been set aside for her personal use centuries before. Adara was there and Taiba, Queen Layla and Ariana, the Mimbrate girl; in the center of the room stood Princess Ce'Nedra.
    "You're up early," Aunt Pol observed, her needle flickering as she made some minute modification to Ce'Nedra's creamy gown.
    "I had trouble sleeping," he told her, looking at the princess with a certain puzzlement. She looked different somehow.
    "Don't stare at me, Garion," she told him rather primly.
    "What have you done to your hair?" he asked her.
    Ce'Nedra's flaming hair had been elaborately arranged, caught at brow and temples by a gold coronet in the form of a band of twined oak leaves. There was some rather intricate braiding involved at the back and then the coppery mass flowed smoothly down over one of her tiny shoulders. "Do you like it?" she asked him.
    "That's not the way you usually wear it," he noted.
    "We're all aware of that, Garion," she replied loftily. Then she turned and looked rather critically at her reflection in the mirror. "I'm still not convinced about the braiding, Lady Polgara," she fretted. "Tolnedran ladies don't braid their hair. This makes me look like an Alorn."
    "Not entirely, Ce'Nedra," Adara murmured.
    "You know what I mean, Adara - all those buxom blondes with their braids and their milk-maid complexions."
    "Isn't it a little early to be getting ready?" Garion asked. "Grandfather said that we weren't going to take the Orb to the throne room until noon."
    "That's not really that far off, Garion," Aunt Pol told him, biting a thread and stepping back to look critically at Ce'Nedra's dress. "What do you think, Layla?"
    "She looks just like a princess, Pol," Queen Layla gushed.
    "She is a princess, Layla," Aunt Pol reminded the plump little queen. 'Then she turned to Garion. "Get some breakfast and have someone show you the way to the baths," she instructed. "They're in the cellars under the west wing. After you've bathed, you'll need a shave. Try not to cut yourself. I don't want you bleeding all over your good clothes."
    "Do I have to wear all that?"
    She gave him a look that immediately answered that question - as well as several others he might have asked.
    "I'll go find Silk," he agreed quickly. "He'll know where the baths are."
    "Do that," she told him quite firmly. "And don't get lost. When the time comes, I want you to be ready."
    Garion nodded and left. Her words had somehow strangely echoed the words of his dream, and he wondered about that as he went looking for Silk.
    The little man was lounging in the company of the others in a large, torch-lighted room in the west wing. The kings were there, with Brand, Belgarath and Garion's other friends. They were breakfasting on cakes and hot spiced wine.
    "Where did you go this morning?" Lelldorin asked him. "You were gone when I woke up."
    "I couldn't sleep any more," Garion replied.
    "Why didn't you wake me?"
    "Why should you lose sleep just because I'm having a restless night?" Garion could see that they were deep in a discussion, and he sat down quietly to wait for the opportunity to speak to Silk.
    "I think we've managed to aggravate Taur Urgas pretty thoroughly in the past couple of months," Barak was saying. The big man was sprawled deep in a high-backed chair with his face sunk in the shadows from the flaring torch behind him. "First Relg steals Silk right out from under his nose, then Belgarath destroys Ctuchik and knocks down Rak Cthol in the process of taking back the Orb, and finally Cho-Hag and Hettar exterminate a sizable piece of his army when he tries to follow us. The king of the Murgos has had a bad year." The big man's chuckle rumbled out of the shadows. For a moment - a fleeting instant - Garion seemed to see a different shape sprawled there. Some trick of the flickering light and dancing shadows made it appear momentarily that a great, shaggy bear sat in Barak's place. Then it was gone. Garion rubbed at his eyes and tried to shake off the half bemused reverie that had dogged him all morning.
    "I still don't quite follow what you mean about Relg going into the rock to rescue Prince Kheldar." King Fulrach frowned. "Do you mean that he can