"The amount of pain, however, tells us how much longer it will be until the hurt is gone."
"That is true," the wolf admitted. "I have observed the same thing myself in times past. The pain is less now. The hurt is going away, I think."
Polgara bathed the injured paw in the pungent juice from her pot, then mixed the pulped herbs with soap and sugar again, packed it over the wound, and replaced the bandage. "We will not have to do this again, little sister," she told her patient. "The hurt is nearly gone."
"I am grateful," the wolf said simply. "Will I be able to walk when it grows light again? The thing which runs on round feet is most uncomfortable to sit in, and the she who makes it run talks much."
"Sit in it one more time while it is light," Polgara advised. "Give the hurt that much more time to go away."
The wolf sighed and laid her chin on her paws.
They carried water from a nearby spring, and Polgara cooked supper. After they had eaten, Belgarath rose to his feet. "Let's have a look around," he said to Garion. "I want to get an idea of what we're dealing with."
Garion nodded and stood up. The two of them went outside the cave, carrying Silk's supper out to him. The little man had volunteered, enthusiastically, Garion thought, to stand watch. "Where are you going?" he asked, sitting down on a rock to eat.
"We're going to nose around a bit," Belgarath replied.
"Good idea. You want me to come along?"
"No. You'd better stay here and keep your eyes open. Warn the others if anybody comes up the ridge." Then the old man led Garion a few hundred feet up the ridge line, and the two of them made the change into their other forms. Garion had changed back and forth so many times in the past few months that at times the distinction between the two shapes had begun to blur and, oftentimes, even when he was in his human form, he found himself thinking in the language of wolves. He loped along behind the great silver wolf, considering this peculiar loss of identity.
Belgarath stopped. "Keep your mind on what we're doing," he said. "Your ears and nose won't be much good to us if you're wool-gathering."
"Yes, revered pack-leader," Garion replied, feeling very embarrassed. Wolves seldom needed reprimanding and they were covered with shame when it happened. When they reached the spot where the side of the ridge had been sheared away by the earthquake, they stopped. The foothills that sloped down toward the plain were dark. Urvon's army was obviously under orders to build no fires. Out on the plain itself, however, the watch fires twinkled in profusion like small orange stars.
"Zandramas has a big army," Garion sent his thought quietly to his grandfather.
"Yes," the old man agreed. "That battle tomorrow morning might take quite a while. Even Nahaz's demons are going to need a lot of time to kill that many people."
"The longer the better. They can take all week, if they want to. We could be halfway to Kell by then."
Belgarath looked around. "Let's go on up the ridge a ways and have a look."
"All right."
Despite Beldin's warning that there might be scouts from the two armies here in the higher foothills, the two wolves encountered no one. "They probably went back to report," Garion heard Belgarath's voice speaking in his mind. "They'll be out again first thing in the morning, most likely. Let's go on back to the cave and get some sleep."
They rose early the following morning, long before first light. They were all subdued as they ate breakfast. Although the two armies facing each other below them were composed entirely of enemies, none of them took any particular pleasure in the prospect of the bloodshed the day would bring. After breakfast, they carried out the packs and their saddles and, last of all, they led out the horses.
"You're quiet this morning, Garion," Zakath said as the two were saddling their mounts.
" I was just wondering if mere might be some way to stop what's going to happen today."
"Not really," Zakath told him. "Their positions are too firmly fixed. It's too late to turn it back now. The Darshivans will advance, and Urvon's army will ambush them. I’ve organized enough battles to know that at a certain point things become inevitable."
"The way Thull Mardu was?"
"Thull Mardu was a blunder," Zakath admitted. "I should have gone around Ce'Nedra's army instead of trying to go through it. The Grolims had me convinced that they could hold that fog in place all day. I should have known better than to believe them. And I definitely shouldn't have underestimated the Asturian bowmen. How can they possibly shoot arrows that fast?"
"There's a knack to it. Lelldorin showed me how it's done."
"Lelldorin?"
"An Asturian friend of mine."
"We've always been told that Arends are stupid to the point of imbecility.''
"They're not overly bright," Garion admitted. "Maybe that's what makes them such good soldiers. They don't have enough imagination to be afraid." He smiled in the darkness. "Mandorallen can't even conceive of the possibility that he could lose a fight. He'd attack your whole army—all by himself."
"The Baron of Vo Mandor? I know his reputation." Zakath laughed wryly. "It's entirely possible that he'd win, you know. ‘ ‘
"Don't ever tell him that. He has enough problems as it is." Garion sighed. "I wish he were here, though—and Barak and Hettar and even Relg."
"Relg?"
"He's an Ulgo mystic. He walks through rock.
Zakath stared at him.
"I don't know how, so don't ask me. I saw him stick a Grolim into a large boulder once. Then he just left him there with only his bands sticking out."
Zakath shuddered.
They mounted and rode slowly up the ravine with Ce'Nedra's carriage jolting along behind them. The sky gradually grew lighter overhead, and Garion saw that they were approaching the edge of the cliff that overlooked the site of the impending battle.
"Belgarath," Zakath said quietly, "would you mind a suggestion?"
"I'll always listen to suggestions."
"This is probably the only place where we'll be able to see what's going on down below. Wouldn't it be a good idea to stop and make sure that the armies down there are fully engaged before we move on? If the Darshivans outflank Urvon's ambush, we'll have them no more than a few leagues behind us. We'll need to run at that point."
Belgarath frowned. "You might be right," he conceded. "It never hurts to know the whole situation." He reined in. "All right," he said, "we'll stop here and go ahead on foot. There's cover enough at the edge of that cliff so that we can watch without being seen." He swung down from his horse.