Sorceress of Darshiva

power of her race, Zakath," Polgara explained. "Not only the power of the Dals who are presently alive, but also that of all of them who have ever lived."
    "Or who might live in the future, for all we know," Belgarath added.
    "That's an interesting idea," Beldin said. "We might want to discuss it someday. Anyway,'' he continued to Zakath, "Cyradis can do just about anything she has to do to make sure the final meeting takes place at the correct time and the correct place. Demons aren't a part of that meeting, so she'll probably just ignore them and if they get too troublesome, she'll just send them back where they came from."
    "Can you do that?"
    Beldin shook his head.
    "But she can?"
    "I think so, yes."
    "I'm having a little trouble with all this," Silk admitted. "If none of the Grolims can go to Kell without going blind, and if the demons aren't going to find out anything, even if they do go there, why are they all running toward it? What good's it going to do them?"
    "They're putting themselves into a position where they can follow us when we come out," Belgarath replied. "They know we can go there and that we'll find out where the meeting is going to take place. They probably plan to tag along behind when we leave."
    "That's going to make it very nervous when we leave Kell, isn't it? We'll have half the Grolims in the world right behind us.'‘
    "Everything will work out, Silk," Belgarath replied confidently.
    "Fatalism does not fill me with confidence at this point, old man," Silk said acidly.
    Belgarath's expression became almost beatific. "Trust me," he said.
    Silk glared at him, threw his arms in the air, and then stamped away, swearing under his breath.
    "You know, I've been wanting to do that to him for years" the old man chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. "I think it was actually worth the wait. All right. Let's get things together again and move on."
    They transferred some of the supplies from the box across the back of the little carriage to the packhorses, and then Durnik stood considering the vehicle thoughtfully. "It's not going to work," he said.
    "What's wrong with it?" Silk asked him a bit defensively.
    "The horse has to be hitched between those shafts. If we put the wolf on the seat, she'll be right behind him. He'll bolt at that point. Nothing could stop him."
    "I suppose I didn't think of that," Silk said glumly.
    "It's the smell of the wolf mat sends horses into such a panic, isn't it?" Velvet asked.
    "That and the snapping and snarling," Duraik replied.
    "Belgarion can persuade her not to snap and snarl."
    "What about the smell?" Silk asked.
    "I'll take care of that." She went to one of the packs and removed a small glass bottle. "I expect you to buy me some more of this, Prince Kheldar," she said firmly.
    "You stole the wrong kind of carriage, so it's up to you to replace what I have to use to smooth over your blunder.''
    "What is it?" he asked suspiciously.
    "Perfume, Kheldar, and it's dreadfully expensive." She looked at Garion, her smile dimpling her cheeks. "I'll need you to translate for me," she said. "I wouldn't want the wolf to misunderstand when I start to sprinkle this on her."
    "Of course."
    When the two of them returned from the sledlike contraption the wolf and her puppy were riding in, they found Ce'Nedra firmly ensconced on the front seat of the smart little carriage. "This will do very nicely, Prince Kheldar," she said brightly.
    "Thank you ever so much."
    "But-"
    "Was there something?" she asked, her eyes wide.
    Silk's expression grew surly, and he wandered away muttering to himself.
    "His morning has taken a turn for the worse, hasn't it?" Zakath observed to Garion.
    "He's doing all right," Garion replied. "He got all the entertainment out of cheating that merchant and stealing the carriage. He gets unbearable if he has too many successes in a row. Ce'Nedra and Liselle usually manage to let the air out of him, though."
    "You mean they cooked all that up between them?"
    "They didn't have to. They've been doing it for so long now that they don't even have to discuss it any more."
    "Do you think Liselle’s perfume will work?"
    "There's one way to find out," Garion said.
    They transferred the injured wolf from the sled to the front seat of the two-wheeled carriage and dabbed some perfume on the bridge of the horse's nose. Then they stepped back and looked closely at the horse while Ce'Nedra held the reins tightly. The horse looked a bit suspicious, but did not panic. Garion