Belgarath grunted. "Phosphorescence. It comes from the fungus that grows everywhere out there. The sun never shines on Cthol Mishrak, so it's a natural breeding ground for unwholesome things that grow in the dark. We'll leave the horses here." He dismounted.

"Is that a very good idea?" Silk asked him as he too swung down from his saddle. "We might want to leave in a hurry." The little man was still wet and shivering.

"No," Belgarath said calmly. "If things go well, nothing in the city's going to be interested in giving us any trouble. If things don't go well, it's not going to matter anyway."

"I don't like unalterable commitments," Silk muttered sourly.

"You picked the wrong journey, then," Belgarath replied. "What we're about to do is just about as unalterable as things ever get. Once we start, there won't be any possible way to turn back."

"I still don't have to like it, do I? What now?"

"Garion and I are going to change into something a bit less conspicuous. You're an expert at moving about in the dark without being seen or heard, but we aren't that skilled at it."

"You're going to use sorcery - this close to Torak?" Silk asked him incredulously.

"We're going to be very quiet about it," Belgarath assured him. "A shape-change is directed almost entirely inward, so there isn't that much noise involved anyway." He turned to Garion. "We're going to do it slowly," he said. "That spreads out what little sound there is and makes it even fainter. Do you understand?"

"I think so, Grandfather."

"I'll go first. Watch me." The old man glanced at their horses. "Let's move away a bit. Horses are afraid of wolves. We don't want them to get hysterical and start crashing around."

They crept along the edge of the trees until they were some distance from the horses.

"This ought to be far enough," Belgarath said. "Now watch." He concentrated for a moment, and then his form began to shimmer and blur. The change-over was very gradual, and for several moments his face and the wolf's face seemed to coexist in the same place. The sound it made was only the faintest of whispers. Then it was done, and the great silver wolf sat on his haunches.

"Now you do it," he told Garion with the slight change of expression that is so much a part of the speech of wolves.

Garion concentrated very hard, holding the shape firmly in his mind. He did it so slowly that it seemed that he could actually feel the fur growing on his body.