Sorceress of Darshiva

shaving."
    "Kheldar, I haven't shaved my own face since my beard sprouted. I wouldn't even know how to hold a razor."
    "You let somebody else near your throat with a razor? isn't that a trifle imprudent?"
    "Does that more or less cover everything?" Belgarath asked the little Drasnian.
    "That covers the basics," Silk replied. "I can coach him on the finer details as we go along."
    "All right, then." The old man looked around at them. "We're likely to encounter people out there. Some of them might be hostile, but most of them will probably just be trying to stay out of harm's way, so they won't bother a group of ordinary travelers," He looked directly at Zakath. "Silk should be able to talk us out of most situations, but if we get into any serious confrontations, I want you to fall back a bit and let the rest of us handle things. You're out of practice with your weapons, and I didn't go to all the trouble of finding you to lose you in some meaningless skirmish."
    "I can still carry my own weight, Belgarath."
    "I'm sure you can, but let's not risk it right at first. Cyradis might be very unhappy if we don't have you with us in one piece when we get to Kell."
    Zakath shrugged, walked over, and sat on the bench beside Garion. The Rivan King was dressed in his mail shirt and he was sliding the snug-fitting leather sleeve over the hilt of Iron-grip's sword. Zakath was actually grinning, and the unaccustomed expression made him look ten years younger. Garion was uncomfortably reminded of Lelldorin. " I think you're actually enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked.
    "For some reason, I feel almost like a young man again," Zakath replied. "Is it always like this—subterfuge and a little danger and this wild sense of exhilaration?"
    "More or less," Garion replied. "Sometimes there's more than just a little danger, though."
    "I can live with that. My life's been tediously secure so far."
    "Even when Naradas poisoned you back in Cthol Murgos?"
    "I was too sick to know what was going on," Zakath said. "I envy you, Garion. You've had a wildly exciting life." He frowned slightly. "Something rather peculiar is happening to me," he confessed. "Ever since I agreed to meet Cyradis at Kell, I've felt as if some vast weight had been lifted off me. The whole world looks fresh and new now. I have absolutely no control over my life, and yet I'm as happy as a fish in deep water. It's irrational, but I can't help it."
    Garion looked rather closely at him. "Don't misunderstand," he said. "I'm not deliberately trying to be mystical about this, but you're probably happy because you're doing what you're supposed to do. It happens to all of us. It's a part of that different way of looking at things Aunt Pol mentioned earlier, and it's one of the rewards she talked about."
    "That's a little obscure for me," Zakath admitted.
    "Give it some time," Garion told him. "It comes to you gradually."
    General Atesca entered the tent with Brador close behind him. "The horses are ready, your Majesty," he reported in a neutral tone. Garion could tell by Atesca's expression that he still strongly disapproved of this whole business. The General turned to Durnik. "I've added a few more pack animals, Goodman," he said. "Yours were fairly well loaded down."
    "Thank you, General," Durnik replied.
    "I'm going to be out of touch, Atesca' Zakath said, "so I'm leaving you in charge here. I'll try to get word to you from time to time, but there may be long periods when you won't hear from me."
    "Yes, your Majesty," Atesca replied.
    "You know what to do, though. Let Brador handle civil matters, and you deal with the military situation. Get the troops back here to this enclave as soon as Urvon and the Darshivans are engaged. And keep in touch with Mal Zeth." He tugged a large signet ring off his finger. "Use this if you need to seal any official documents."
    "Such documents require your Majesty's signature," Atesca reminded him.
    "Brador can forge it. He writes my name better than I do myself"
    "Your Majesty!" Brador protested.
    "Don't play innocent with me, Brador. I’ve known about your experiments in penmanship. Take care of my cat while I'm gone, and see if you can find homes for the rest of those kittens."
    "Yes, your Majesty."
    "Anything else that needs my attention before I leave?"
    "Ah—one thing, your Majesty," Atesca said. "A disciplinary matter."
    "Can't you take care of it?" Zakath asked a bit irritably. He was obviously impatient to be off.
    "I can, your