The Seeress of Kell

chamberlain, hurrying down a marble corridor. Then she seemed to be at Riva, holding a long, incomprehensible conversation with Brand, the Rivan Warder, while Brand's blond niece sat spinning flax by the window. Arell seemed unconcerned about the dagger hilt protruding from between her shoulder blades. Ce'Nedra stirred, muttering to herself, and immediately began to dream again. She seemed then to be a Rheon in eastern Drasnia. Casually she plucked a dagger from the belt of Vella, the Nadrak dancer, and just as casually drove it to the hilt into the belly of black-bearded Ulfgar, the head of the Bear-cult. Ulfgar was speaking sneeringly to Belgarath as Ce'Nedra sank the knife into him, and he did not even pay any attention to her as she slowly twisted the blade in his vitals.
    And then she was at Riva again, and she and Garion were sitting naked beside a sparkling forest pool while thousands of butterflies hovered over them. She traveled in her restless dream to the ancient city of Val Alorn in Cherek, and then went on to Boktor for the funeral of King Rhodar. And once again she saw the battlefield at Thull Mardu, and once more the face of her self-appointed protector, Brand's son Olban.
    There was no coherence to the dream. She seemed to go from place to place without effort, moving through time and space looking for something, although she could not remember what it was she had lost. When she awoke the next morning, she was as tired as she had been the previous evening. Every movement was an effort, and she kept yawning.
    "What's the matter?" Garion asked her as they dressed. "Didn't you sleep well?"
    "Not really," she replied. "I kept having the strangest dreams."
    "Do you want to talk about them? Sometimes that's the best way to put them to rest so they don't keep coming back night after night."
    "They didn't make any sense, Garion. They just kept jumping around. It was almost as if someone were moving me from place to place for some reason of her own.''
    "Her? Was this someone a woman?"
    "Did I say 'her'? I can't imagine why. I never saw this person." Ce'Nedra yawned again. "I hope whoever it was got finished with it, though. I'd rather not go through another night like that." Then she gave him a sly, sidelong glance through her eyelashes. "There were some parts of the dream that were rather nice, though," she said. "Once we were sitting by that pool back at Riva. Do you want to know what we were doing?"
    A slow blush crept up Garion's neck. "Uh, no, Ce'Nedra. I don't really think so."
    But she told him anyway—in great detail—until he finally fled from the tent. Her restless night increased the peculiar lassitude that had lain on her since they had left Kell, and she rode that morning in a half doze that, try though she might, she could not seem to shake off. Garion spoke with her several times to warn her that she was allowing her horse to stray, and then, apparently seeing that she just couldn't keep her eyes open, he took her reins from her hands and led her horse. About midmorning, Beldin rejoined them. "I think you'd better take cover," he tersely told Belgarath. "There's a Darshivan patrol coming along this trail."
    "Are they searching for us?"
    "Who knows? If they are, they're not being very serious about it. Go back into the woods for a couple hundred yards and let them ride on by. I'll keep an eye on them and let you know when they've passed."
    "All right." Belgarath turned aside from the trail and led the rest of them back into the concealment of the forest. They dismounted and waited tensely. Soon they heard the jingling of the soldiers' equipment as they rode along the forest trail at a trot. Even in this potentially dangerous situation, Ce'Nedra simply could not keep her eyes open. Dimly she could hear the whispered conversations of the others until she finally dozed off again.
    And then she came awake—or at least partially so. She was walking alone through the forest, her mind all bemused. She knew that she should be alarmed at being separated from the others, but oddly, she was not. She walked on, not so much going anywhere in particular as following some sort of subtle summoning. Then at last she reached a grassy clearing and saw a tall blond girl standing among the wildftowers and holding a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. The girl's blond braids were coiled at her temples, and her complexion was like new milk. It was Brand's niece, Arell. "Good morning, your Majesty," she greeted the