"You don't understand," Garion muttered sullenly.
"I understand much better than you think, Garion. You know what your problem is? You don't want to grow up. You want to keep on being a boy forever. You can't, though; nobody can. No matter how much power you have - whether you're an emperor or a sorcerer - you can't stop the years from going by. I realized that a long time ago, but then I'm probably much smarter than you are." Then without any word of explanation, she raised up on her toes and kissed him lightly full on the lips.
Garion blushed and lowered his head in embarrassment.
"Tell me," Ce'Nedra said, toying with the sleeve of his tunic, "was Queen Salmissra as beautiful as they say?"
"She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life," Garion answered without thinking.
The princess caught her breath sharply. "I hate you," she cried from between clenched teeth. Then she turned and ran sobbing in search of Aunt Pol.
Garion stared after her in perplexity. He turned then to stare moodily out at the river and the drifting ash. The tingling in his palm was becoming intolerable, and he scratched at it, digging in with his fingernails.
"You'll just make it sore, " the voice in his mind said.
"It itches. I can't stand it."
"Stop being a baby. "
"What's causing it?"
"Do you mean to say you really don't know? You've got further to go than I thought. Put your right hand on the amulet. "
"Why?"
"Just do it, Garion. "
Garion reached inside his tunic, and put his burning palm on his medallion. As a key fitting into the lock for which it was made, the contact between his hand and the throbbing amulet seemed somehow enormously right. The tingling became that now - familiar surge, and the throbbing began to echo hollowly in his ears.
"Not too much, " the voice warned him. "You're not trying to dry up the river, you know. "
"What's happening? What is all this?"
"Belgarath's trying to find us. "
"Grandfather? Where?"
"Be patient. "
The throbbing seemed to grow louder until Garion's entire body quivered with each thudding beat. He stared out over the rail, trying to see through the haze. The settling ash, so light that it coated the muddy surface of the river, made everything more than twenty paces away indistinct. It was impossible to see the city, and the wails and cries from the hidden streets seemed somehow muffled. Only the slow wash of the current against the hull seemed clear.
Then a long way out on the river, something moved. It was not very large and seemed to be little more than a dark shadow ghosting silently with the current.
The throbbing grew even louder.
The shadow drew closer, and Garion could just begin to make out the shape of a small boat. An oar caught the surface of the water with a small splash. The man at the oars turned to look over his shoulder. It was Silk. His face was covered with gray ash, and tiny rivulets of sweat streaked his cheeks.
Mister Wolf sat in the stern of the little boat, muffled in his cloak and with his hood turned up.
"Welcome back, Belgarath, " the dry voice said.
"Who's that?" Wolf's voice in Garion's mind sounded startled. "Is that you, Belgarion?"
"Not quite. " the voice replied. "Not yet anyway, but we're getting closer."
"I wondered who was making all the noise. "
"He overdoes things sometimes. He'll learn eventually."
A shout came from one of the sailors clustered around Barak at the stern, and they all turned to watch the small boat drifting toward them. Aunt Pol came up from below and stepped to the rail. "You're late," she called.
"Something came up," the old man answered across the narrowing gap. He pushed back his hood and shook the floury ash out of his cloak. Then Garion saw that the old man's left arm was bound up in a dirty sling across the front of his body.
"What happened to your arm?" Aunt Pol asked.
"I'd rather not talk about it." There was an ugly scratch running down one of Wolf's cheeks into his short, white beard, and his eyes seemed to glitter with some huge irritation.
The grin on Silk's ash-coated face was malicious as he dipped his oars once, deftly pulling the little boat in beside Greldik's ship with a slight thump.
"I don't imagine you can be persuaded to keep your mouth shut," Wolf said irritably to the small man.
"Would I say anything, mighty sorcerer?" Silk asked mockingly, his ferret eyes wide with feigned innocence.
"Just help me aboard," Wolf told him, his voice testy. His entire bearing was that of a man who had been mortally insulted.
"Whatever you say, ancient Belgarath," Silk said, obviously trying to keep from laughing. He steadied Wolf as the old man awkwardly climbed over the ship's rail.
"Let's get out of here," Mister Wolf curtly told Captain Greldik, who had just joined them.
"Which way, Ancient One?" Greldik asked carefully, clearly not wanting to aggravate the old man further.
Wolf stared hard at him.
"Upstream or down?" Greldik explained mollifyingly.
"Upstream, of course," Wolf snapped.
"How was I supposed to know?" Greldik appealed to Aunt Pol. Then he turned and crossly began barking orders to his sailors.
Aunt Pol's expression was a peculiar mixture of relief and curiosity. "I'm sure your story's going to be absolutely fascinating, father," she said as the sailors began raising the heavy anchors. "I simply can't wait to hear it."
"I can do without the sarcasm, Pol," Wolf told her. "I've had a very bad day. Try not to make it any worse."
That last was finally too much for Silk. The little man, in the act of climbing across the rail, suddenly collapsed in helpless glee. He tumbled forward to the deck, howling with laughter.
Mister Wolf glared at his laughing companion with a profoundly of fronted expression as Greldik's sailors ran out their oars and began turning the ship in the sluggish current.
"What happened to your arm, father?" Aunt Pol's gaze was penetrating, and her tone said quite clearly that she did not intend to be put off any longer.
"I broke it," Wolf told her flatly.
"How did you manage that?"
"It was just a stupid accident, Pol. Those things happen sometimes."
"Let me see it."
"In a minute." He scowled at Silk, who was still laughing. "Will you stop that? Go tell the sailors where we're going."
"Where are we going, father?" Aunt Pol asked him. "Did you find Zedar's trail?"
"He crossed into Cthol Murgos. Ctuchik was waiting for him."
"And the Orb?"
"Ctuchik's got it now."
"Are we going to be able to cut him off before he gets to Rak Cthol with it?"
"I doubt it. Anyway, we have to go to the Vale first."
"The Vale? Father, you're not making any sense."
"Our Master's summoned us, Pol. He wants us at the Vale, so that's where we're going."
"What about the Orb?"
"Ctuchik's got it, and I know where to find Ctuchik. He isn't going anyplace. For right now, we're going to the Vale."
"All right, father," she concurred placatingly. "Don't excite yourself." She looked at him closely. "Have you been fighting, father?" she asked dangerously.
"No, I haven't been fighting." He sounded disgusted.
"What happened, then?"
"A tree fell on me."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Silk exploded into fresh howls of mirth at the old man's grudging confession. From the stern of the ship where Greldik and Barak stood at the tiller, the slow beat of the drum began, and the sailors dug in with their oars. The ship slid through the oily water, moving upstream against the current, with Silk's laughter trailing behind in the ash-laden air.
* * *
Here ends Book Two of The Belgariad.
Book Three, Magician's Gambit, carries the quest on to the Orb through stranger lands a
nd darker magic, while Garion begins to learn the incredible power of the dry voice within his mind.
* * *
About the Author
David Eddings was born in Spokane, Washington State, in 1931, and was raised in the Puget Sound area north of Seattle. He received a Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Washington in 1961. He served in the United States Army, worked as a buyer for the Boeing Company, was a grocery clerk and taught college English. With his wife Leigh he lived in many parts of the United States, latterly in the northwest. He died in 2009.
David Eddings' first novel, High Hunt, was a contemporary adventure story. The field of fantasy was always of interest for him, however, and this passion led to him writing in the epic worldwide bestsellers The Belgariad and The Malloreon series. He also went on to write other bestselling series, including The Elenium, The Tamuli and The Dreamers.
Also by David Eddings
THE BELGARIAD
Book One:
PAWN OF PROPHECY
Book Two:
QUEEN OF SORCERY
Book Three:
MAGICIAN'S GAMBIT
Book Four:
CASTLE OF WIZARDRY
Book Five:
ENCHANTERS' END GAME
THE MALLOREON
Book One:
GUARDIANS OF THE WEST
Book Two:
KING OF THE MURGOS
Book Three:
DEMON LORD OF KARANDA
Book Four:
SORCERESS OF DARSHIVA
Book Five:
SEERESS OF KELL
David Eddings, Queen of Sorcery
(Series: The Belgariad # 2)
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