"Halt the column, Colonel," Polgara told the Sendarian baronet. "We can rely on Fulrach's judgment in these matters." She turned to the King of Cherek. "Stop being so peevish, Anheg," she chided him.

"I'm being broiled alive, Polgara," he complained.

"Try walking for a few miles," she told him sweetly. "That may give you some insight into how the infantry feels "

Anheg scowled, but remained silent.

Princess Ce'Nedra pulled in her sweating mount as the column halted. The princess had spoken very little since Adara had been wounded. The dreadful sense of her responsibility for her friend's nearly fatal injury had sobered her enormously, and she had retreated into a kind of shell that was totally unnatural for her. She removed the loosewoven straw hat that a captive Thull had made for her back at the fort and squinted at the blistering sky.

"Put the hat back on, Ce'Nedra," Lady Polgara told her. "I don't want you getting sunstroke."

Ce'Nedra obediently put her hat back on. "He's coming back," she reported, pointing at a speck in the sky high above them.

"Will you excuse me?" General Varana said, turning his horse to leave.

"You're being absurd, Varana," King Rhodar told the Tolnedran. "Why do you insist on refusing to admit he can do things you don't want to believe in?"

"It's a matter of principle, your Majesty," the general replied. "Tolnedrans do not believe in sorcery. I am a Tolnedran, therefore I do not admit that it exists." He hesitated. "I must concede, however, that his information is surprisingly accurate - however he gets it."

A large, blue-banded hawk fell suddenly out of the broiling air like a stone, flared his wings at the last moment, and settled on the ground directly in front of them.

General Varana resolutely turned his back and stared with apparently deep interest at a featureless hill some five miles distant.

The hawk began to shimmer and change even as he folded his wings. "Are you stopping again?" Beldin demanded irascibly.

"We have to rest the troops, Uncle," Polgara replied.

"This isn't a Sunday stroll, Pol," Beldin retorted. He began to scratch one armpit, befouling the air around him with a string of rancid curses.

"What's the matter?" Polgara asked mildly.

"Lice," he grunted.

"How did he get lice?"

"I visited some other birds to ask if they'd seen anything. I think I picked them up in a vulture's nest."

"What could possibly possess you to go consorting with vultures?"

"Vultures aren't that bad, Pol. They perform a necessary function, and the chicks do have a certain charm. The she-vulture had been picking at a dead horse about twenty leagues south of here. After she told me about it, I went down to take a look. There's a Murgo column coming this way."

"How many?" General Varana asked quickly, his back still turned to them.

"A thousand or so," Beldin shrugged. "They're pushing hard. They'll probably intercept you tomorrow morning."