The Seeress of Kell

too many things going on, and Garion was hovering on the verge of exhaustion. "Durnik," he said a bit plaintively, "can you help me out of this?" He rapped his knuckles on the breastplate of his armor.
    "If you wish." Even Durnik's voice sounded cold.
    "Does he really have to sleep with us?" Garion complained about midmorning.
    "He's warm," Ce'Nedra replied in a snippy tone, "which is more than I can say for some others. Besides, he sort of fills the vacancy I have in my heart in a small way, of course."
    The wolf puppy under the covers was enthusiastically licking Garion's toes, then, inevitably, fell to nibbling.
    They slept for a goodly part of the day, rising about midafternoon. They sent a servant to the king, asking to be excused from this night's festivities, pleading extreme fatigue.
    "Wouldn't this be a good time to ask to see that map?" Beldin asked.
    "I don't think so," Belgarath replied. "Naradas is getting desperate now. He knows how unforgiving Zandramas can be, so he'll do just about anything to keep us away from that chart. He still has the king's ear, and he'll come up with all kinds of excuses to stop us. Why don't we just let him wonder about what we're up to? It might help to keep him off balance until Sadi has the chance to put him to sleep."
    The eunuch bowed a bit mockingly.
    "There's an alternative, Belgarath," Silk volunteered. "I could slip around a bit and fish for information. If I can pinpoint the location of the map, a bit of burglary could solve our problem."
    "What if you got caught?" Durnik asked.
    "Please, Durnik," Silk said in a pained voice, "don't be insulting."
    "It's got some possibilities," Velvet said. "Kheldar could steal a man's teeth even if the man had his mouth closed."
    "Better not chance it," Polgara told her. "Naradas is a Grolim, and he may very well have laid a few traps around that chart. He knows all of us, by reputation at least, and I'm sure he's fully aware of Silk's specialized talents."
    "Do we really have to kill him?" Eriond asked sadly. "Naradas, I mean?"
    "I don't think we have any choice, Eriond," Garion said. "As long as he's still alive, we'll be stumbling over him at every turn. "He frowned. "It may be my imagination, but Zandramas seems very reluctant to leave the choice to Cyradis. If she can block us, she'll win by default."
    "Thy perception is not altogether awry, Belgarion," Cyradis told him. "Zandramas indeed hath done all in her power to thwart my task." She smiled briefly. "I tell thee truly, she hath caused me much vexation, and were the choice to be between her and thee, well might I be tempted to choose against her by way of retribution.”
    "I never thought I'd hear that from one of the seers," Beldin said. "Are you actually coming down off that fence, Cyradis?"
    She smiled again. "Dear, gentle Beldin," she said affectionately, “our neutrality is not the result of whim, but of duty a duty laid upon us before even thou wast born."
    Since they had slept most of the day, they talked well into the night. Garion awoke refreshed the next morning and prepared to face the day's festivities.
    The nobles at the court of King Oldorin had utilized the previous day and probably half the night preparing speeches long, flowery, and generally tedious speeches in praise of "our heroic champions." Protected by his closed visor, Garion frequently found himself dozing a languor brought on not by weariness, but by boredom. At one point he heard a light clang on the side of his armor.
    "Ouch!" Ce'Nedra said, rubbing her elbow.
    "What's the matter, dear?"
    "Do you have to wear all that steel?"
    "Yes, but you know I'm wearing it. What possessed you to try to gouge me in the ribs?"
    "Habit, I suppose. Stay awake, Garion."
    "I wasn't sleeping," he lied.
    "Really? Why were you snoring then?"
    Following the speeches, the king assessed the glassy-eyed condition of his court and called upon “Good Master Feldegast" to lighten things up.
    Beldin was at his outrageous best that day. He walked on his hands; he did astonishing back-flips; he juggled with amazing dexterity all the while telling jokes in his lilting brogue. "I hope I’ve managed in me small way t' add t' the festivities, yer Majesty," he concluded the performance after bowing in response to the enthusiastic applause of the assemblage.
    "Thou art truly a virtuoso, Master Feldegast," the king complimented him. "The memory of thy performance this day will warm many a dreary winter evening in this