Queen of Sorcery

had eaten a savory stew which seemed to Garion quite good but which their little guest appeared to find distasteful, Jeebers began to approach a subject which had obviously been on his mind since they had first met. "Despite the best efforts of the legions, the roads are never entirely safe," the fussy man said. "It's imprudent to travel alone, and the Lady Sharell's been entrusted to my care. Since I'm responsible for her safety, I was wondering if we might travel along with you. We wouldn't be any bother, and I'd be more than happy to pay for whatever food we eat."
    Silk glanced quickly at Aunt Pol.
    "Of course," she said.
    Silk looked surprised.
    "There's no reason we can't travel together," she went on. "We're all going to the same place, after all."
    Silk shrugged. "Anything you say."
    Garion knew the idea was a mistake so serious that it bordered on disaster. Jeebers would not be a good traveling companion, and his pupil showed every sign of quickly becoming intolerable. She was obviously accustomed to extensive personal service, and her demands were probably made without thought. They were still demands, however, and Garion knew immediately who was most likely to be expected to attend to them. He got up and walked around to the far side of the clump of willows.
    The fields beyond the trees were pale green in the spring sunshine, and small white clouds drifted lazily across the sky. Garion leaned against a tree and gazed out at the fields without actually seeing them. He would not become a servant - no matter who their little guest might be. He wished there were some way he could get that firmly established right at the outset - before things got out of hand.
    "Have you lost your senses, Pol?" he heard Mister Wolf say somewhere behind him among the trees. "Ran Borune's probably got every legion in Tolnedra looking for her by now."
    "This is my province, Old Wolf," Aunt Pol told him. "Don't interfere. I can manage things so that we won't be bothered by the legions."
    "We don't have the time to coddle her," the old man said. "I'm sorry, Pol, but the child's going to be an absolute little monster. You saw the way she acted toward her father."
    "It's no great chore to break bad habits," she said, unconcerned.
    "Wouldn't it be simpler just to arrange to have her taken back to Tol Honeth?"
    "She's already run away once," Aunt Pol answered. "If we send her back, she'll just run away again. I'll feel much more comfortable having her Imperial little Highness where I can put my hands on her when I need her. When the proper time comes, I don't want to have to take the world apart looking for her."
    Wolf sighed. "Have it your way, Pol."
    "Naturally."
    "Just keep the brat away from me," he said. "She sets my teeth on edge. Do any of the others know who she is?"
    "Garion does."
    "Garion? That's surprising."
    "Not really," Aunt Pol said. "He's brighter than he looks."
    A new emotion began to grow in Garion's already confused mind. Aunt Pol's obvious interest in Ce'Nedra sent a sharp pang through him. With a certain amount of shame, he realized that he was jealous of the attention the girl was receiving.
    In the days that followed, Garion's fears quickly proved to be wellfounded. An inadvertant remark about Faldor's farm had revealed quite early to the princess his former status as a scullery-boy, and she used the knowledge heartlessly to browbeat him into a hundred stupid little errands every day. To make it all worse, each time he tried to resist, Aunt Pol would firmly remind him to pay more attention to his manners. Inevitably, he became quite surly about the whole business.
    The princess developed a story about the reason for her departure from Tol Honeth as they rode south. The story changed daily, growing more wildly implausible with every passing league. At first she seemed content to be on a simple excursion to visit relatives; then she dropped dark hints about flight from a marriage to an ugly old merchant. Next, there were even darker hints about a plot to capture her and hold her for ransom. Finally, in a crowning effort, she confided to them that the proposed kidnapping was politically motivated - a part of some vast scheme to gain power in Tolnedra.
    "She's an awful liar, isn't she?" Garion asked Aunt Pol when they were alone one evening.
    "Yes, dear," Aunt Pol agreed. "Lying is an art. A good lie shouldn't be embellished so much. She'll need a lot more practice if she plans to make a career of it."
    Finally,