The Seeress of Kell

in the first place."
    "Oh," he said, "maybe you're right."
    "Keep in touch," Belgarath said as the three of them started out the door.
    "Naturally," Beldin grunted.
    Once they were out on the lawn, the dwarf squinted around. "Over there, I think," he said, pointing. "That thicket on the edge of town should hide what we're doing."
    "All right, uncle," Polgara agreed.
    "One other thing, Pol," he added, "and I'm not trying to be offensive."
    "That's a novelty."
    "You're in good form this morning." He grinned. "Anyway, a mountain like that one breeds its own weather—and most particularly, its own winds."
    "Yes, uncle, I know."
    "I know how fond you are of snowy owls, but the feathers are too soft. If you get into a high wind, you could end up coming back naked."
    She gave him a long, level look.
    "Do you want all your feathers blown off?"
    "No, uncle, as a matter of fact, I don't."
    "Why don't you do it my way, then? You might even find that you like being a hawk."
    "Blue banded, I suppose?"
    "Well, that's up to you, but you do look good in blue, Pol."
    "You're impossible." She laughed. "All right, uncle, we'll do it your way.''
    "I'll change first," he offered. "Then you can use me as a model to make sure you get the shape right."
    "I know what a hawk looks like, uncle."
    "Of course you do, Pol. I'm just trying to be helpful."
    "You're too kind."
    It felt very strange to make a shape other than dial of a wolf. Garion looked himself over carefully, making frequent comparisons to Beldin, who perched fierce-eyed and magnificent on a branch overhead.
    "Good enough," Beldin told him, "but next time make your tail feathers a little fuller. You need them to steer with."
    "All right, gentlemen," Polgara said from a nearby limb, "let's get started."
    "I'll lead," Beldin said. "I’ve had more practice at this. If we hit a downdraft, sheer away from the mountain. You don't want to get banged up against those rocks." He spread his wings, flapped a few times, and flew off.
    The only time Garion had been aloft before had been on the long flight from Jarviksholm to Riva after Geran had been abducted. He had flown that time as a speckled falcon. The blue-banded hawk was a much bigger bird, and flying over mountain terrain was much different from flying over the vast open expanse of the Sea of the Winds. The air currents eddied and swirled around the rocks, making them unpredictable and even dangerous.
    The three hawks spiraled upward on a rising column of air. It was an effortless way to fly, and Garion began to understand Beldin's intense joy in flight. He also discovered that his eyes were incredibly sharp. Every detail on the mountainside stood out as if it were directly in front of him. He could see insects and the individual petals of wildflowers. His talons twitched involuntarily when a small mountain rodent scurried across a rockfall.
    "Pay attention to what we're here for, Garion," he heard Aunt Pol's voice in the silences of his mind.
    "But—" The yearning to plummet down with his talons spread wide was almost irresistible.
    "No buts, Garion. You've already had breakfast. Just leave the poor little creature alone.''
    "You're taking all the fun out of it for him, Pol," Garion heard Beldin protest.
    "We're not here to have fun, uncle. Lead on."
    The buffeting was sudden, and it took Garion by surprise. A violent downdraft hurled him toward a rocky slope, and it was only at the last instant that he was able to veer away from certain disaster. The downdraft pushed him this way and that, wrenching at his wings, and it was suddenly accompanied by a pelting rainstorm, huge, icy drops that pounded at him like large wet hammers.
    "It isn't natural, Garion!" Aunt Pol's voice came to him sharply. He looked around desperately, but he could not see her.
    "Where are you?" he called out.
    "Never mind that! Use the Orb! The Dals are trying to keep us away!"
    Garion was not entirely positive that the Orb could hear him in that strange place to which it went when he changed form, but he had no choice but to try. The driving rain and howling wind currents made settling to earth and resuming his own shape unthinkable. "Make it stop!" he called out to the stone, "the wind, the rain, all of it!"
    The surge he felt when the Orb unleashed its power sent him staggering through the air, flapping his wings desperately to hold his balance. The air around him seemed suddenly bright blue. And then the turbulence and the rain that had accompanied it