‘That’s what worries me. If she had to follow us, wouldn’t it be logical for her to have ringed this forest with troops and Grolims to find out which way we were going?’
‘I suppose so, yes.’
‘Well, there’s no army out there – only a few patrols, and they’re just going through the motions.’
Belgarath frowned. ‘What’s she up to?’
‘My point exactly. I’d guess that she’s got a surprise in store for us somewhere.’
‘Keep your eyes open, then. I don’t want her slipping up behind me.’
‘It might simplify things if she did.’
‘I doubt it. Nothing about this entire affair has been simple, and I don’t expect things to change at this stage.’
‘I’ll go scout ahead.’ The dwarf blurred and soared away.
They made their encampment that evening beside a spring that gushed out of an outcropping of moss-covered rock. Belgarath seemed moody and out of sorts, so the rest of them avoided him as they worked at tasks they had repeated so many times that they had become habitual.
‘You’re very quiet this evening,’ Garion said to Ce’Nedra as they sat by the fire after supper. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I just don’t feel like talking.’ The peculiar lethargy that had come over the little queen had not diminished as the day wore on, and she had actually found herself dozing in her saddle several times during the late afternoon.
‘You look tired,’ he observed.
‘I am, a bit. We’ve been traveling for a long time now. I think it might be starting to catch up with me.’
‘Why don’t you go to bed then? You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.’
She yawned and held out her arms to him. ‘Carry me,’ she said.
He looked startled. Ce’Nedra enjoyed startling her husband. His face always looked so wide-eyed and boyish. ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine, Garion. I’m just sleepy, and I want to be babied a bit. Carry me to the tent, put me to bed, and tuck me in.’
‘Well, if that’s what you want …’ He rose, picked her up easily, and carried her across the encampment to their tent.
‘Garion,’ she murmured drowsily after he had gently drawn their blankets up around her shoulders.
‘Yes, dear?’
‘Please don’t wear your mail shirt when you come to bed. It makes you smell like an old iron pot.’
Ce’Nedra’s sleep that night was disturbed by strange dreams. She seemed to see people and places she had not seen or even thought of in years. She saw legionnaires guarding her father’s palace, and Lord Morin, her father’s chamberlain, hurrying down a marble corridor. Then she seemed to be at Riva, holding a long, incomprehensible conversation with Brand, the Rivan Warder, while Brand’s blond niece sat spinning flax by the window. Arell seemed unconcerned about the dagger hilt protruding from between her shoulder blades. Ce’Nedra stirred, muttering to herself, and immediately began to dream again.
She seemed then to be at Rheon in eastern Drasnia. Casually, she plucked a dagger from the belt of Vella, the Nadrak dancer, and just as casually drove it to the hilt into the belly of black-bearded Ulfgar, the head of the Bear-cult. Ulfgar was speaking sneeringly to Belgarath as Ce’Nedra sank the knife into him, and he did not even pay any attention to her as she slowly twisted the blade in his vitals.
And then she was at Riva again, and she and Garion were sitting naked beside a sparkling forest pool while thousands of butterflies hovered over them.
She traveled in her restless dream to the ancient city of Val Alorn in Cherek, and then went on to Boktor for the funeral of King Rhodar. And once again she saw the battlefield at Thull Mardu, and once more the face of her self-appointed protector, Brand’s son, Olban.
There was no coherence to the dream. She seemed to go from place to place without effort, moving through time and space looking for something, although she could not remember what it was she had lost.
When she awoke the next morning, she was as tired as she had been the previous evening. Every movement was an effort, and she kept yawning.
‘What’s the matter?’ Garion asked her as they dressed. ‘Didn’t you sleep well?’
‘Not really,’ she replied. ‘I kept having the strangest dreams.’
‘Do you want to talk about them? Sometimes that’s the best way to put them to rest so they don’t keep coming back night after night.’
‘They didn’t make any sense, Garion. They just kept jumping around. It was almost as if someone were moving me from place to place for some reason of her own.’
‘Her? Was this someone a woman?’
‘Did I say “her”?’ I can’t imagine why. I never saw this person.’ Ce’Nedra yawned again. ‘I hope whoever it was got finished with it, though. I’d rather not go through another night like that.’ Then she gave him a sly, sidelong glance through her eyelashes. ‘There were some parts of the dream that were rather nice, though,’ she said. ‘Once, we were sitting by that pool back at Riva. Do you want to know what we were doing?’
A slow blush crept up Garion’s neck. ‘Uh, no, Ce’Nedra. I don’t really think so.’
But she told him anyway – in great detail – until he finally fled from the tent.
Her restless night increased the peculiar lassitude which had lain on her since they had left Kell, and she rode that morning in a half-doze which, try though she might, she could not seem to shake off. Garion spoke with her several times to warn her that she was allowing her horse to stray, and then, apparently seeing that she just couldn’t keep her eyes open, he took her reins from her hands and led her horse.
About midmorning, Beldin rejoined them. ‘I think you’d better take cover,’ he tersely told Belgarath. ‘There’s a Darshivan patrol coming along this trail.’
‘Are they searching for us?’
‘Who knows? If they are, they’re not being very serious about it. Go back into the woods for a couple hundred yards and let them ride on by. I’ll keep an eye on them and let you know when they’ve passed.’
‘All right.’ Belgarath turned aside from the trail and led the rest of them back into the concealment of the forest.
They dismounted and waited tensely. Soon they heard the jingling of the soldiers’ equipment as they rode along the forest trail at a trot.