Sorceress of Darshiva

calm."
    "Would you like something to eat, uncle?" Polgara asked.
    "Thanks all the same, Pol, but I had a fat rabbit an hour or so ago." He looked back at Belgarath. "I think we'll still want to travel at night," he advised. "You don't have whole regiments out there, but there are enough to give us trouble if they happen to surprise us."
    "Any idea of whose troops they are?"
    "I didn't see any Guardsmen or Karands. I'd guess that they belong to Zandramas—or to the King of Peldane. Whoever they are, they're going north toward that battle that's about to begin."
    "All right," Belgarath said, "we'll travel at night, then— at least until we get past the soldiers."
    They moved along at a fair rate of speed that night. They had passed the woods, and the watchfires of the soldiers encamped on the plain made them easy to avoid. Then, just before dawn, Belgarath and Garion stopped atop a low hill and looked down at a camp that seemed quite a bit larger than those they had passed earlier. "About a battalion, Grandfather," Garion surmised. "I think we've got a problem here. The country around here's awfully flat. This is the only hill we’ve seen for miles, and there isn't very much cover. No matter how we try to hide, their scouts are going to see us. It might be safer if we turned around and went back a ways."
    Belgarath laid back his ears in irritation. "Let's go back and warn the others," he growled. He rose to his feet and led Garion back the way they had come.
    "There's no point in taking chances, father," Polgara said after she had drifted in on silent wings. "The country was more broken a few miles back. We can go back there and find shelter."
    "Were the cooks making breakfast?" Sadi asked.
    "Yes," Garion replied. "I could smell it—some kind of porridge and bacon."
    "They're not likely to move or send out scouts until after they eat, are they?"
    "No," Garion told him. "Troops get very surly if you make them start marching before you feed them."
    "And were the sentries all wearing the standard military cloak—the ones that look more or less like these?" He plucked at the front of his traveler's cloak.
    "The ones I saw were," Garion said.
    "Why don't we pay them a visit, Prince Kheldar?" The eunuch suggested.
    "What have you got in mind?" Silk asked suspiciously.
    "Porridge is so bland, don't you think? I have a number of things in my case that can spice it up just a bit. We can walk through the encampment like a pair of sentries who’ve just been relieved and go directly to the cook-fires for a bite of breakfast. I shouldn't have much trouble seasoning the kettles with certain condiments."
    Silk grinned at him.
    "No poison," Belgarath said firmly.
    "I hadn't considered poison, Ancient One," Sadi protested mildly. "Not out of any sense of morality, mind you. It's just that soldiers tend to grow suspicious when their messmates turn black in the face and topple over. I have something much more pleasant in mind. The soldiers will all be deliriously happy for a short while, then they'll fall asleep."
    "For how long?" Silk asked.
    "Several days," Sadi shrugged. "A week at the very most."
    Silk whistled. "Is it dangerous at all?"
    "Only if one has a weak heart. I've used it on myself on occasion—when I was particularly tired. Shall we go, then?"
    "Teaming those two together may have been a moral blunder," Belgarath mused as the two rogues walked off in darkness toward the twinkling watchfires.
    It was about an hour later when the little Drasnian and eunuch returned. "It's safe now," Sadi reported. "We go on through their camp. There's a low range of hills a league or so farther on where we can take shelter until night."
    "Any trouble at all?" Velvet asked.
    "Not a bit," Silk smirked. "Sadi's very good at that sort of thing."
    "Practice, my dear Kheldar," the eunuch said deprecatingly. "I’ve poisoned a fair number of people in my time.'' He grinned mirthlessly. "Once I gave a banquet for a group of my enemies. Not a single one of them saw me season the soup course, and Nyissans are very observant when it comes to that sort of thing."
    "Didn't they get suspicious when you didn't eat any soup?" Velvet asked curiously.
    "But I did, Liselle. I'd spent an entire week dosing myself with the antidote." He shuddered. "Vile-tasting stuff, as I recall. The poison itself was quite tasty. A number of my guests even complimented me on the soup before they left." He sighed. "Those were the good old days," he mourned.
    "I think we