The Seeress of Kell

to go there?"
    "No. Actually they're civil and even hospitable—as long as you don't try to land an army there. That's when things start to take a turn for the worse.''
    "Have we really got the time to go to this place?" Silk asked the Seeress of Kell.
    "Ample time, Prince Kheldar," she replied. "The stars have told us for eons that the Place Which Is No More awaits the coming of thee and thy companions, and that thou and thy companions will come there upon the day appointed for the meeting."
    "And so will Zandramas, I suppose?"
    She smiled a gentle little smile. "How can there be a meeting if the Child of Dark be not also present?" she asked him.
    "I think I detected a faint glimmer of humor there, Cyradis,'' he bantered. "Isn't that a bit out of character for one of the seers?"
    "How little you know us, Prince Kheldar." She smiled again. "Oft times we have been convulsed with laughter at some message writ large in the stars and at the absurd lengths to which others go to ignore or avoid that which is preordained. Submit to the instruction of the heavens, Kheldar. Spare thyself the agony and turmoil of trying to evade thy fate.''
    "You throw the word 'fate' around awfully lightly, Cyradis," he said disapprovingly.
    "Hast thou not come here in response to a fate laid down for thee at the beginning of days? All thy concern with commerce and espionage have been but a diversion to occupy thee until the appointed day."
    "That's a polite way to tell someone he's been behaving like a child."
    "We are all children, Kheldar."
    Beldin came soaring through the sun-dappled forest, avoiding tree trunks with deft shifts of his wings. He settled to earth and changed form.
    "Trouble?" Belgarath asked him.
    "Not as much as I'd expected." The dwarf shrugged. "And that worries me a bit."
    "Isn't that a little inconsistent?"
    "Consistency is the defense of a small mind. Zandramas couldn't go to Kell, right?"
    "As far as we know."
    "Then she has to follow us to the meeting place, right?"
    "Unless she's found some other way to find out where it is."
    "That's what worries me. If she had to follow us, wouldn't it be logical for her to have ringed this forest with troops and Grolims to find out which way we were going?"
    "I suppose so, yes."
    "Well, there's no army out there—only a few patrols, and they're just going through the motions."
    Belgarath frowned. "What's she up to?"
    "My point exactly. I'd guess that she's got a surprise in store for us somewhere."
    "Keep your eyes open, then. I don't want her slipping up behind me."
    "It might simplify things if she did."
    "I doubt it. Nothing about this entire affair has been simple, and I don't expect things to change at this stage."
    "I'll go scout ahead." The dwarf blurred and soared away.
    They made their encampment that evening beside a spring that gushed out of an outcropping of moss-covered rock. Belgarath seemed moody and out of sorts, so the rest of them avoided him as they worked at tasks they had repeated so many times that they had become habitual.
    "You're very quiet this evening," Garion said to Ce'Nedra as they sat by the fire after supper. "What's the matter?"
    "I just don't feel like talking." The peculiar lethargy that had come over the little queen had not diminished as the day wore on, and she had actually found herself dozing in her saddle several times during the late afternoon.
    "You look tired," he observed.
    "I am, a bit. We've been traveling for a long time now. I think it might be starting to catch up with me."
    "Why don't you go to bed then? You'll feel better after a good night's sleep."
    She yawned and held out her arms to him. "Carry me," she said.
    He looked startled. Ce'Nedra enjoyed startling her husband. His face always looked so wide-eyed and boyish. "Aren't you feeling well?" he asked.
    "I'm fine, Garion. I'm just sleepy, and I want to be babied a bit. Carry me to the tent, put me to bed, and tuck me in."
    "Well, if that's what you want . . ." He rose, picked her up easily, and carried her across the encampment to their tent.
    "Garion," she murmured drowsily after he had gently drawn their blankets up around her shoulders.
    "Yes, dear?"
    "Please don't wear your mail shirt when you come to bed. It makes you smell like an old iron pot."
    Ce'Nedra's sleep that night was disturbed by strange dreams. She seemed to see people and places she had not seen or even thought of in years. She saw legionnaires guarding her father's palace, and Lord Morin, her father's