Sorceress of Darshiva

asked Durnik.
    "He suggests that we travel at night," Durnik replied.
    "That's an absurd notion, Toth," Sadi protested. "If things are dangerous in the daytime, they'll be ten times more dangerous at night."
    Toth's hands began to move again. For some reason, Garion found that he could almost understand what the huge mute was trying to say.
    "He says that you looked at the idea too fast, Sadi," Durnik translated. "We've got certain advantages." The smith frowned slightly, and he looked back at his friend.
    "How did you find out about that?" he asked.
    Toth gestured again.
    "Oh," Durnik nodded. "I guess she would know, wouldn't she?" He turned to the others. "He says that Belgarath, Pol, and Garion can lead the way in their other forms. The darkness wouldn't be that big a problem for a pair of wolves and an owl.''
    Belgarath tugged thoughtfully at one earlobe. "It's got possibilities," he said to Beldin. "We could avoid just about anybody out there that way. Soldiers don't move around in the dark very much."
    "They post sentries, though," the hunchback pointed out.
    "Garion, Pol, and I wouldn't have much trouble locating them and leading the rest of you around them."
    "It's going to be slow going," Velvet said. "We won't be able to travel at a gallop, and we'll have to detour around every sentry we come across."
    "You know," Silk said, "now that I think about it, it's not such a bad idea. I sort of like it."
    "You always enjoy sneaking around in the dark, Kheldar," Velvet said to him.
    "Don't you?"
    "Well—" Then she smiled at him. "I suppose I do, yes— but then, I'm a Drasnian, too."
    "It would take too long," Ce'Nedra protested. "We're only a little way behind Zandramas. If we try to sneak, she'll get ahead again."
    "I don't see that we've got much choice, Ce'Nedra," Garion told her gently. "If we just try to plow our way across Rengel, sooner or later we're going to run into more soldiers than we can handle."
    "You're a sorcerer," she said accusingly. "You could wave your hand and just knock them out of our way."
    "There are limits to that, Ce'Nedra," Polgara said. "Both Zandramas and Urvon have Grolims in the region. If we tried to do it that way, everybody in Renget would know exactly where we were."
    Ce'Nedra's eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip began to tremble. She turned and ran blindly away from the road, sobbing.
    "Go after her, Garion," Polgara said. "See if you can get her calmed down."
    They took shelter for the rest of the day in a grove of beech trees about a mile from the road. Garion tried to sleep, knowing that the night ahead of them would be very long; but after about an hour, he gave up and wandered restlessly about the camp. He shared Ce'Nedra's impatience. They were so close to Zandramas now, and moving at night would slow their pace to a crawl. Try though he might, however, he could think of no alternative.
    As the sun was going down, they struck camp and waited at the edge of the beech grove for it to get dark. "I think I've just hit a flaw in the plan," Silk said.
    "Oh?" Belgarath asked.
    "We need the Orb to be able to follow Zandramas. If Garion turns into a wolf, the Orb won't be able to tell him which way to go—or will it?"
    Belgarath and Beldin exchanged a long look. "I don't know," Belgarath admitted. "Do you?"
    "I haven't got the slightest idea," Beldin said. "Well, there's only one way to find out," Garion said. He handed Chretienne's reins to Durnik and went some distance away from the horses. Carefully, he created the image of the wolf in his mind, then he began to focus his will upon the image. He seemed, as always, to go through a peculiar sensation of melting, and then it was done. He sat on his haunches for a moment, checking himself over to make sure everything was there.
    His nose suddenly caught a familiar fragrance. He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder. Ce'Nedra stood there, her eyes very wide and the fingertips of one hand to her lips. "I-is that still really you, Garion?" she stammered.
    He rose to his feet and shook himself. There was no way he could answer her. Human words would not fit in the mouth of a wolf. Instead, he padded over to her and licked her hand. She sank to her knees, wrapped her arms about his head, and laid her cheek against his muzzle. "Oh, Garion," she said in a tone of wonder.
    On an impulse born out of sheer mischief, he deliberately licked her face from chin to hairline. His tongue was quite long—and quite wet.
    "Stop