Queen of Sorcery

ferret eyes wide with feigned innocence.
    "Just help me aboard," Wolf told him, his voice testy. His entire bearing was that of a man who had been mortally insulted.
    "Whatever you say, ancient Belgarath," Silk said, obviously trying to keep from laughing. He steadied Wolf as the old man awkwardly climbed over the ship's rail.
    "Let's get out of here," Mister Wolf curtly told Captain Greldik, who had just joined them.
    "Which way, Ancient One?" Greldik asked carefully, clearly not wanting to aggravate the old man further.
    Wolf stared hard at him.
    "Upstream or down?" Greldik explained mollifyingly.
    "Upstream, of course," Wolf snapped.
    "How was I supposed to know?" Greldik appealed to Aunt Pol. Then he turned and crossly began barking orders to his sailors.
    Aunt Pol's expression was a peculiar mixture of relief and curiosity. "I'm sure your story's going to be absolutely fascinating, father," she said as the sailors began raising the heavy anchors. "I simply can't wait to hear it."
    "I can do without the sarcasm, Pol," Wolf told her. "I've had a very bad day. Try not to make it any worse."
    That last was finally too much for Silk. The little man, in the act of climbing across the rail, suddenly collapsed in helpless glee. He tumbled forward to the deck, howling with laughter.
    Mister Wolf glared at his laughing companion with a profoundly of fronted expression as Greldik's sailors ran out their oars and began turning the ship in the sluggish current.
    "What happened to your arm, father?" Aunt Pol's gaze was penetrating, and her tone said quite clearly that she did not intend to be put off any longer.
    "I broke it," Wolf told her flatly.
    "How did you manage that?"
    "It was just a stupid accident, Pol. Those things happen sometimes."
    "Let me see it."
    "In a minute." He scowled at Silk, who was still laughing. "Will you stop that? Go tell the sailors where we're going."
    "Where are we going, father?" Aunt Pol asked him. "Did you find Zedar's trail?"
    "He crossed into Cthol Murgos. Ctuchik was waiting for him."
    "And the Orb?"
    "Ctuchik's got it now."
    "Are we going to be able to cut him off before he gets to Rak Cthol with it?"
    "I doubt it. Anyway, we have to go to the Vale first."
    "The Vale? Father, you're not making any sense."
    "Our Master's summoned us, Pol. He wants us at the Vale, so that's where we're going."
    "What about the Orb?"
    "Ctuchik's got it, and I know where to find Ctuchik. He isn't going anyplace. For right now, we're going to the Vale."
    "All right, father," she concurred placatingly. "Don't excite yourself." She looked at him closely. "Have you been fighting, father?" she asked dangerously.
    "No, I haven't been fighting." He sounded disgusted.
    "What happened, then?"
    "A tree fell on me."
    "What?"
    "You heard me."
    Silk exploded into fresh howls of mirth at the old man's grudging confession. From the stern of the ship where Greldik and Barak stood at the tiller, the slow beat of the drum began, and the sailors dug in with their oars. The ship slid through the oily water, moving upstream against the current, with Silk's laughter trailing behind in the ash-laden air.

    Here ends Book Two of The Belgariad. Book Three, Magician's Gambit, carries the quest on to the Orb through stranger lands and darker magic, while Garion begins to learn the incredible power of the dry voice within his mind.