Magician's Gambit

wearily. "He'll have a blinding headache when he wakes up."
    "Aunt Pol?"
    "Yes?"
    "Who was the other wolf?"
    "My mother, Poledra."
    "But isn't she-"
    "Yes. It was her spirit."
    "You can do that?" Garion was stunned by the enormity of it.
    "Not alone," she said. "You had to help me."
    "Is that why I feel so-" It was an effort even to talk.
    "It took everything we could both raise to do it. Don't ask so many questions just now, Garion. I'm very tired and I still have many things to do."
    "Is Grandfather all right?"
    "He'll come around. Mandorallen, come here."
    The knight stepped over the coals at the neck of the bar and walked slowly toward her, his hand pressed lightly against his chest.
    "You'll have to take off your shirt," she told him. "And please sit down."
    About a half hour later Silk and the princess returned. "It's a good spot," Silk reported. "A thicket in a little ravine. Water, shelter - everything we need. Is anybody seriously hurt?"
    "Nothing permanent." Aunt Pol was applying a salve to Barak's hairy leg.
    "Do you suppose you could hurry, Polgara?" Barak asked. "It's a little chilly for standing around half-dressed."
    "Stop being such a baby," she said heartlessly.
    The ravine to which Silk and Ce'Nedra led them was a short way back upriver. A small mountain brook trickled from its mouth, and a dense thicket of spindly pines filled it seemingly from wall to wall. They followed the brook for a few hundred yards until they came to a small clearing in the center of the thicket. The pines around the inner edge of the clearing, pressed by the limbs of the others in the thicket, leaned inward, almost touching above the center of the open area.
    "Good spot." Hettar looked around approvingly. "How did you find it?"
    "She did." Silk nodded at Ce'Nedra.
    "The trees told me it was here," she said. "Young pine trees babble a lot." She looked at the clearing thoughtfully. "We'll build our fire there," she decided, pointing at a spot near the brook at the upper end of the clearing, "and set up our tents along the, edge of the trees just back from it. You'll need to pile rocks around the fire and clear away all the twigs from the ground near it. The trees are very nervous about the fire. They promised to keep the wind off us, but only if we keep our fire strictly under control. I gave them my word."
    A faint smile flickered across Hettar's hawklike face.
    "I'm serious," she said, stamping her little foot.
    "Of course, your Highness," he replied, bowing.
    Because of the incapacity of the others, the work of sating up the tents and building the firepit fell largely upon Silk and Hettar. Ce'Nedra commanded them like a little general, snapping out her orders in a clear, firm voice. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.
    Garion was sure that it was some trick of the fading light, but the trees almost seemed to draw back when the fire first flared up, though after a while they seemed to lean back in again to arch protectively over the little clearing. Wearily he got to his feet and began to gather sticks and dead limbs for firewood.
    "Now," Ce'Nedra said, bustling about the fire in a thoroughly businesslike way, "what would you all like for supper?"
    They stayed in their protected little clearing for three days while their battered warriors and Mandorallen's horse recuperated from the encounter with the Eldrak. The exhaustion which had fallen upon Garion when Aunt Pol had summoned all his strength to help call the spirit of Poledra was largely gone after one night's sleep, though he tired easily during the next day. He found Ce'Nedra's officiousness in her domain near the fire almost unbearable, so he passed some time helping Durnik hammer the deep crease out of Mandorallen's breastplate; after that, he spent as much time as possible with the horses. He began teaching the little colt a few simple tricks, though he had never attempted training animals before. The colt seemed to enjoy it, although his attention wandered frequently.
    The incapacity of Durnik, Barak, and Mandorallen was easy to understand, but Belgarath's deep silence and seeming indifference to all around him worried Garion. The old man appeared to be sunk in a melancholy reverie that he could not or would not shake off.
    "Aunt Pol," Garion said finally on the afternoon of the third day, "you'd better do something. We'll be ready to leave soon, and Grandfather has to be able to show us the way. Right now I don't think he even cares where he is."
    Aunt