it," Relg said quietly, breaking off his praying and getting to his feet. The ritual formulas had not helped him, and his eyes were haunted.
"I'll go with you," Barak offered.
Relg shook his head. "You'd just be in my way," he said shortly, already moving toward the passage leading back into the mountain. "What's come over him?" Barak asked, puzzled.
"I think our friend's having a religious crisis," Silk observed from the mouth of the cave where he kept watch.
"Another one?"
"It gives him something to occupy his spare moments," Silk replied lightly.
"Come and eat," Aunt Pol told them, laying slices of bread and cheese on top of one of the packs. "Then I want to have a look at the cut on your leg, Mandorallen."
After they had eaten and Polgara had bandaged Mandorallen's knee, she dressed Taiba in a peculiar assortment of clothes Durnik had taken from the packs. Then she turned her attention to the little boy. He returned her grave look with one just as serious, then reached out and touched the white lock at her brow with curious fingers. With a start of remembrance, Garion recalled how many times he had touched that lock with the selfsame gesture, and the memory of it raised a momentary irrational surge of jealousy, which he quickly suppressed.
The little boy smiled with sudden delight. "Errand," he said firmly, offering the Orb to Aunt Pol.
She shook her head. "No, child," she told him. "I'm afraid I'm not the one." She dressed him in clothing that had to be rolled up and taken in with bits of twine in various places, then sat down with her back against the wall of the cave and held out her arms to him. Obediently he climbed into her lap, put one arm about her neck and kissed her. Then he nestled his face down against her, sighed and immediately fell asleep. She looked down at him with a strange expression on her face - a peculiar mixture of wonder and tenderness - and Garion fought down another wave of jealousy.
There was a grinding rumble in the caves above them.
"What's that?" Durnik asked, looking around with apprehension.
"Relg, I'd imagine," Silk told him. "He seems to be taking steps to head off the Murgos."
"I hope he doesn't get carried away," Durnik said nervously, gland ing at the rock ceiling.
"How longs it going to take to get to the Vale?" Barak asked.
"A couple of weeks, probably," Silk replied. "A lot's going to depend on the terrain and how quickly the Grolims can organize a search for us. If we can get enough of a headstart to put down a good false trail, we can send them all running off to the west toward the Tolnedran border, and we can move toward the Vale without needing to waste all that time dodging and hiding." The little man grinned. "The notion of deceiving the whole Murgo nation appeals to me," he added.
"You don't have to get too creative," Barak told him. "Hettar's going to be waiting for us in the Vale - along with King Cho-Hag and half the clans of Algaria. They'll be awfully disappointed if we don't bring them at least a few Murgos."
"Life's full of little disappointments," Silk told him sardonically. "As I remember it, the eastern edge of the Vale is very steep and rough. It will take a couple of days at least to make it down, and I don't think we'll want to try it with all of Murgodom snapping at our heels."
It was midafternoon when Relg returned. His exertions seemed to have quieted some of the turmoil in his mind, but there was still a haunted look in his eyes, and he deliberately avoided Taiba's violet-eyed gaze. "I pulled down the ceilings of all the galleries leading to this cave," he reported shortly. "We're safe now."
Polgara, who had seemed asleep, opened her eyes. "Get some rest," she told him.
He nodded and went immediately to his blankets.
They rested in the cave through the remainder of the day, taking turns on watch at the narrow opening. The wasteland of black sand and wind-scoured rock lying out beyond the tumbled scree at the base of the pinnacle was alive
Elizabeth Amelia Barrington