Magician's Gambit

in a rough embrace. "If you ever get bored with these Alorns, girl, my tent flap is always open to you."
    "I'll keep that in mind, Yarblek," she replied demurely.
    "Luck," Yarblek told them. "I'll wait for you until midnight." Then he turned and strode off down the gully.
    "That's a good man there," Barak said. "I think I could actually get to like him."
    "We must make plans for Prince Kheldar's rescue," Mandorallen declared, beginning to take his armor out of the packs strapped to one of the horses. "All else failing, we must of necessity resort to main force."
    "You're backsliding again, Mandorallen," Barak said.
    "That's already been taken care of," Belgarath told them.
    Barak and Mandorallen stared at him.
    "Put your armor away, Mandorallen," the old man instructed the knight. "You're not going to need it."
    "Who's going to get Silk out of there?" Barak demanded.
    "I am," Relg answered quietly. "How much longer is it going to be before it gets dark?"
    "About an hour. Why?"
    "I'll need some time to prepare myself."
    "Have you got a plan?" Durnik asked.
    Relg shrugged. "There isn't any need. We'll just circle around until we're behind that hill on the other side of the encampment. I'll go get our friend, and then we can leave."
    "Just like that?" Barak asked.
    "More or less. Please excuse me." Relg started to turn away.
    "Wait a minute. Shouldn't Mandorallen and I go with you?"
    "You wouldn't be able to follow me," Relg told him. He walked up the gully a short distance. After a moment, they could hear him muttering his prayers.
    "Does he think he can pray him out of that pit?" Barak sounded disgusted.
    "No," Belgarath replied. "He's going to go through the hill and carry Silk back out. That's why he was asking Yarblek all those questions."
    "He's going to what?"
    "You saw what he did at Prolgu - when he stuck his arm into the wall?"
    "Well, yes, but "
    "It's quite easy for him, Barak."
    "What about Silk? How's he going to pull him through the rock?"
    "I don't really know. He seems quite sure he can do it, though."
    "If it doesn't work, Taur Urgas is going to have Silk roasting over a slow fire first thing tomorrow morning. You know that, don't you?"
    Belgarath nodded somberly.
    Barak shook his head. "It's unnatural," he grumbled.
    "Don't let it upset you so much," Belgarath advised.
    The light began to fade, and Relg continued to pray, his voice rising and falling in formal cadences. When it was fully dark, he came back to where the others waited. "I'm ready," he said quietly. "We can leave now."
    "We'll circle to the west," Belgarath told them. "We'll lead the horses and stay under cover as much as we can."
    "It will take us a couple hours," Durnik said.
    "That's all right. It will give the soldiers time to settle down. Pol, see what the Grolims Garion saw are up to."
    She nodded, and Garion felt the gentle push of her probing mind. "It's all right, father," she stated after a few moments. "They're preoccupied. Taur Urgas has them conducting services for him."
    "Let's go, then," the old man said.
    They moved carefully down the gully, leading the horses. The night was murky, and the wind bit at them as they came out from between the protecting gravel banks. The plain to the east of the fair was dotted with a hundred fires whipping in the wind and marking the vast encampment of the army of Taur Urgas.
    Relg grunted and covered his eyes with his hands.
    "What's wrong?" Garion asked him.
    "Their fires," Relg said. "They stab at my eyes."
    "Try not to look at them."
    "My God has laid a hard burden on me, Belgarion." Relg sniffed and wiped at his nose with his sleeve. "I'm not meant to be out in the open like this."
    "You'd better have Aunt Pol give you something for that cold. It will taste awful, but you'll feel better after you drink it."
    "Perhaps," Relg said, still shielding his eyes from the dim flicker of the Murgo watch fires.
    The hill on the south side of the fair was a low outcropping of granite. Although eons of constant wind had covered it for the most part with a thick layer of blown sand and dirt, the rock itself lay solid beneath its covering mantle. They stopped behind it, and Relg began carefully to brush the dirt from a sloping granite face.
    "Wouldn't it be closer if you started over there?" Barak asked quietly.
    "Too much dirt," Relg replied.
    "Dirt or rock - what's the difference?"
    "A great difference. You wouldn't understand." He leaned forward and put his tongue to the granite face, seeming