Magician's Gambit

he had said and reached down to pat the little animal's shoulder. "It's all right," he apologized. The colt looked at him gratefully and began to frisk through the grass again, although staying close.
    Princess Ce'Nedra had been watching him. She always seemed to be watching him for some reason. She would look at him, her eyes speculative and a tendril of her coppery hair coiled about one finger and raised absently to her teeth. It seemed to Garion that every time he turned around she was watching and nibbling. For some reason he could not quite put his finger on, it made him very nervous. "If he were mine, I wouldn't be so cruel to him," she accused, taking the tip of the curl from between her teeth.
    Garion chose not to answer that.
    As they rode down the valley, they passed three ruined towers, standing some distance apart and all showing signs of great antiquity. Each of them appeared to have originally been about sixty feet high, though weather and the passage of years had eroded them down considerably. The last of the three looked as if it had been blackened by some intensely hot fire.
    "Was there some kind of war here, Grandfather?" Garion asked.
    "No," Wolf replied rather sadly. "The towers belonged to my brothers. That one over there was Belsambar's, and the one near it was Belmakor's. They died a long time ago."
    "I didn't think sorcerers ever died."
    "They grew tired - or maybe they lost hope. They caused themselves no longer to exist."
    "They killed themselves?"
    "In a manner of speaking. It was a little more complete than that, though."
    Garion didn't press it, since the old man appeared to prefer not to go into details. "What about the other one - the one that's been burned? Whose tower was that?"
    "Belzedar's."
    "Did you and the other sorcerers burn it after he went over to Torak?"
    "No. He burned it himself. I suppose he thought that was a way to show us that he was no longer a member of our' brotherhood. Belzedar always liked dramatic gestures."
    "Where's your tower?"
    "Farther on down the Vale."
    "Will you show it to me?"
    "If you like."
    "Does Aunt Pol have her own tower?"
    "No. She stayed with me while she was growing up, and then we went out into the world. We never got around to building her one of her own."
    They rode until late afternoon and stopped for the day beneath an enormous tree which stood alone in the center of a broad meadow. The tree quite literally shaded whole acres. Ce'Nedra sprang out of her saddle and ran toward the tree, her deep red hair flying behind her. "He's beautiful!" she exclaimed, placing her hands with reverent affection on the rough bark.
    Mister Wolf shook his head. "Dryads. They grow giddy at the sight of trees."
    "I don't recognize it," Durnik said with a slight frown. "It's not an oak."
    "Maybe it's some southern species," Barak suggested. "I've never seen one exactly like it myself."
    "He's very old," Ce'Nedra said, putting her cheek fondly against the tree trunk, "and he speaks strangely - but he likes me."
    "What kind of tree is it?" Durnik asked. He was still frowning, his need to classify and categorize frustrated by the huge tree.
    "It's the only one of its kind in the world," Mister Wolf told him. "I don't think we ever named it. It was always just the tree. We used to meet here sometimes."
    "It doesn't seem to drop any berries or fruit or seeds of any kind," Durnik observed, examining the ground beneath the spreading branches.
    "It doesn't need them," Wolf replied. "As I told you, it's the only one of its kind. It's always been here - and always will be. It feels no urge to propagate itself."
    Durnik seemed worried about it. "I've never heard of a tree with no seeds."
    "It's a rather special tree, Durnik," Aunt Pol said. "It sprouted on the day the world was made, and it will probably stand here for as long as the world exists. It has a purpose other than reproducing itself."
    "What purpose is that?"
    "We don't know," Wolf answered. "We only know that it's the oldest living thing in the world. Maybe that's its purpose. Maybe it's here to demonstrate the continuity of life."
    Ce'Nedra had removed her shoes and was climbing up into the thick branches, making little sounds of affection and delight.
    "Is there by any chance a tradition linking Dryads with squirrels?" Silk asked.
    Mister Wolf smiled. "If the rest of you can manage without us, Garion and I have something to attend to."
    Aunt Pol looked questioningly at him.
    "It's time for a little