Read Online Sorceress of Darshiva by David Eddings - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Eddings
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sneaking around in the dark, Kheldar," Velvet said to him.
"Don't you?"
"Well—" Then she smiled at him. "I suppose I do, yes— but then, I'm a Drasnian, too."
"It would take too long," Ce'Nedra protested. "We're only a little way behind Zandramas. If we try to sneak, she'll get ahead again."
"I don't see that we've got much choice, Ce'Nedra," Garion told her gently. "If we just try to plow our way across Rengel, sooner or later we're going to run into more soldiers than we can handle."
"You're a sorcerer," she said accusingly. "You could wave your hand and just knock them out of our way."
"There are limits to that, Ce'Nedra," Polgara said. "Both Zandramas and Urvon have Grolims in the region. If we tried to do it that way, everybody in Renget would know exactly where we were."
Ce'Nedra's eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip began to tremble. She turned and ran blindly away from the road, sobbing.
"Go after her, Garion," Polgara said. "See if you can get her calmed down."
They took shelter for the rest of the day in a grove of beech trees about a mile from the road. Garion tried to sleep, knowing that the night ahead of them would be very long; but after about an hour, he gave up and wandered restlessly about the camp. He shared Ce'Nedra's impatience. They were so close to Zandramas now, and moving at night would slow their pace to a crawl. Try though he might, however, he could think of no alternative.
As the sun was going down, they struck camp and waited at the edge of the beech grove for it to get dark. "I think I've just hit a flaw in the plan," Silk said.
"Oh?" Belgarath asked.
"We need the Orb to be able to follow Zandramas. If Garion turns into a wolf, the Orb won't be able to tell him which way to go—or will it?"
Belgarath and Beldin exchanged a long look. "I don't know," Belgarath admitted. "Do you?"
"I haven't got the slightest idea," Beldin said. "Well, there's only one way to find out," Garion said. He handed Chretienne's reins to Durnik and went some distance away from the horses. Carefully, he created the image of the wolf in his mind, then he began to focus his will upon the image. He seemed, as always, to go through a peculiar sensation of melting, and then it was done. He sat on his haunches for a moment, checking himself over to make sure everything was there.
His nose suddenly caught a familiar fragrance. He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder. Ce'Nedra stood there, her eyes very wide and the fingertips of one hand to her lips. "I-is that still really you, Garion?" she stammered.
He rose to his feet and shook himself. There was no way he could answer her. Human words would not fit in the mouth of a wolf. Instead, he padded over to her and licked her hand. She sank to her knees, wrapped her arms about his head, and laid her cheek against his muzzle. "Oh, Garion," she said in a tone of wonder.
On an impulse born out of sheer mischief, he deliberately licked her face from chin to hairline. His tongue was quite long—and quite wet.
"Stop that," she said, giggling in spite of herself and trying to wipe her face. He momentarily touched his cold nose to the side of her neck. She flinched away. Then he turned and loped off toward the road where the trail was. He paused in the bushes beside the road and carefully peered out, his ears alert and his nose searching for the scent of anyone in the vicinity. Then, satisfied, he slipped out of the bushes with his belly low to the ground to stand in the middle of the road.
It was not the same, of course. There was a subtle difference to the pulling sensation, but it was still there. He felt a peculiar satisfaction and had to restrain an urge to lift his muzzle in a howl of triumph. He turned then and loped back toward where the others were hidden. His toe-nails dug into the turf, and he exulted in a wild sense of freedom. It was almost with regret that he changed back into his own shape.
"Well?" Belgarath asked as he walked toward
"Don't you?"
"Well—" Then she smiled at him. "I suppose I do, yes— but then, I'm a Drasnian, too."
"It would take too long," Ce'Nedra protested. "We're only a little way behind Zandramas. If we try to sneak, she'll get ahead again."
"I don't see that we've got much choice, Ce'Nedra," Garion told her gently. "If we just try to plow our way across Rengel, sooner or later we're going to run into more soldiers than we can handle."
"You're a sorcerer," she said accusingly. "You could wave your hand and just knock them out of our way."
"There are limits to that, Ce'Nedra," Polgara said. "Both Zandramas and Urvon have Grolims in the region. If we tried to do it that way, everybody in Renget would know exactly where we were."
Ce'Nedra's eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip began to tremble. She turned and ran blindly away from the road, sobbing.
"Go after her, Garion," Polgara said. "See if you can get her calmed down."
They took shelter for the rest of the day in a grove of beech trees about a mile from the road. Garion tried to sleep, knowing that the night ahead of them would be very long; but after about an hour, he gave up and wandered restlessly about the camp. He shared Ce'Nedra's impatience. They were so close to Zandramas now, and moving at night would slow their pace to a crawl. Try though he might, however, he could think of no alternative.
As the sun was going down, they struck camp and waited at the edge of the beech grove for it to get dark. "I think I've just hit a flaw in the plan," Silk said.
"Oh?" Belgarath asked.
"We need the Orb to be able to follow Zandramas. If Garion turns into a wolf, the Orb won't be able to tell him which way to go—or will it?"
Belgarath and Beldin exchanged a long look. "I don't know," Belgarath admitted. "Do you?"
"I haven't got the slightest idea," Beldin said. "Well, there's only one way to find out," Garion said. He handed Chretienne's reins to Durnik and went some distance away from the horses. Carefully, he created the image of the wolf in his mind, then he began to focus his will upon the image. He seemed, as always, to go through a peculiar sensation of melting, and then it was done. He sat on his haunches for a moment, checking himself over to make sure everything was there.
His nose suddenly caught a familiar fragrance. He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder. Ce'Nedra stood there, her eyes very wide and the fingertips of one hand to her lips. "I-is that still really you, Garion?" she stammered.
He rose to his feet and shook himself. There was no way he could answer her. Human words would not fit in the mouth of a wolf. Instead, he padded over to her and licked her hand. She sank to her knees, wrapped her arms about his head, and laid her cheek against his muzzle. "Oh, Garion," she said in a tone of wonder.
On an impulse born out of sheer mischief, he deliberately licked her face from chin to hairline. His tongue was quite long—and quite wet.
"Stop that," she said, giggling in spite of herself and trying to wipe her face. He momentarily touched his cold nose to the side of her neck. She flinched away. Then he turned and loped off toward the road where the trail was. He paused in the bushes beside the road and carefully peered out, his ears alert and his nose searching for the scent of anyone in the vicinity. Then, satisfied, he slipped out of the bushes with his belly low to the ground to stand in the middle of the road.
It was not the same, of course. There was a subtle difference to the pulling sensation, but it was still there. He felt a peculiar satisfaction and had to restrain an urge to lift his muzzle in a howl of triumph. He turned then and loped back toward where the others were hidden. His toe-nails dug into the turf, and he exulted in a wild sense of freedom. It was almost with regret that he changed back into his own shape.
"Well?" Belgarath asked as he walked toward
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