Sorceress of Darshiva

eyes.
    "Is she asleep?" Ce'Nedra whispered.
    "I think so," Garion whispered back. Then he turned and rode back to the head of die column.
    The countryside grew more hilly and broken as they rode west. Although the overcast continued to be as heavy as before, there appeared to be some hint of light along the western horizon as afternoon progressed. They clattered across a stone bridge that arched over a tumbling stream. "It smells clean, Belgarath," Durnik said. "I think it's coming down out of the mountains."
    Belgarath squinted up the gully from which the stream emerged. "Why don't you have a look?" he suggested. "See if there's a place to make camp. Good water has been hard to find, so let's not pass any up."
    "I was thinking the same thing myself." Then the smith and his towering mute friend rode off upstream. They set up camp for the night several hundred yards up the gully where a bend in the stream had opened out a kind of curved gravel bench. After they had watered the horses and set up the tents, Polgara began cooking supper. She cut steaks from the side of beef and made a thick soup of dried peas, seasoned with chunks of ham. Then she set a large loaf of dark peasant bread near the fire to warm, humming to herself all the while. As always, cooking seemed to satisfy some deep-seated need in her. The supper which came from her fire that evening was of near-banquet proportions, and evening was settling in as they finished eating and leaned back contentedly.
    "Very good, Pol." Beldin belched. "I guess you haven't lost your touch after all."
    "Thank you, uncle." She smiled. Then she looked at Eriond. "Don't get too comfortable," she told him. "At least not until you've finished helping with the dishes."
    Eriond sighed and took a bucket down to the stream for water.
    "That used to be my job," Garion told Zakath. "I'm glad there's someone younger along this time."
    "Isn't that women's work?"
    "Would you like to tell her that?"
    "Ah—now that you mention it, perhaps not."
    "You learn very fast, Zakath."
    "I don't believe I’ve ever washed a dish—not in my entire life."
    "I’ve washed enough for both of us, and I wouldn't say that too loudly. She might decide that it's time for you to learn how." Garion gave Polgara a speculative sidelong glance. "Let's go feed the wolf and her puppy," he suggested. "Idleness in others irritates Aunt Pol for some reason, and she can almost always think of things for people to do."
    "Garion, dear," Polgara said sweetly as they rose. "After the dishes are done, we'll need water for bathing."
    "Yes, Aunt Pol," he said automatically. "You see?" he muttered to the Emperor of Mallorea, "I knew we hadn't moved quite fast enough."
    "Do you always do what she asks? And does she mean me, too?"
    Garion sighed. "Yes," he replied, "on both counts."
    They rose early the next morning, and Beldin soared off to scout on ahead while the rest ate breakfast, struck camp, and saddled their horses. The damp, sullen chill which had hovered over this desolate countryside was now edged with a drier kind of cold as the prevailing wind swept down from the summits of the Dalasian mountains.
    Garion pulled his cloak about him and rode on. They had gone only a league or so when Beldin s pi ruled down out of the overcast sky. '"I think you'd better turn south," he advised. "Urvon's just ahead, and his whole army's right behind him."
    Belgarath swore.
    "There's more," the hunchback told him. "The Darshivans managed to get past Atesca—or through him. They're coming up from behind. The elephants are leading the march. We're right between two armies here."
    "How far ahead of us is Urvon?" Belgarath asked him.
    "Six or eight leagues. He's in the foothills of the mountains."
    "And how far behind us are the elephants?"
    "About five leagues. It looks to me as if they're going to try to cut Urvon's column off. There's no help for it, Belgarath. We're going to have to run. We have to get out of the middle of this before the fighting starts."
    "Is Atesca pursuing Zandramas' army?" Zakath asked intently.
    "No. I think he followed your orders and pulled back to that enclave on the bank of the Magan."
    Belgarath was still swearing. "How did Urvon get this far south so fast?" he muttered.
    "He's killing his troops by the score," Beldin replied. "He's making them run, and Nahaz has demons whipping them along."
    "I guess we don't have any choice," Belgarath said. "We'll have to go south. Toth, will you be able to lead us to