"Certainly, my Lord," Y'diss said in his sibilant, rasping voice. "The green tastes bad," Count Dravor said drowsily, "but it gives me such lovely dreams. The red tastes better, but the dreams aren't so nice."

"Soon you'll be ready for the blue, my Lord," Y'diss promised. There was a faint clink and the sound of liquid being poured into a glass. "Then the yellow, and finally the black. The black's best of all."

Silk led them on tiptoe past the half open door. The lock on the outside door yielded quickly to his skill, and they all slipped out into the cool, moonlit night. The stars twinkled overhead, and the air was sweet. "I'll get the horses," Hettar said.

"Go with him, Mandorallen," Wolf said. "We'll wait over there." He pointed at the shadowy garden. The two men disappeared around the corner, and the rest of them followed Mister Wolf into the looming shadow of the hedge which surrounded Count Dravor's garden.

They waited. The night was chilly, and Garion found himself shivering. Then there was a click of a hoof touching a stone, and Hettar and Mandorallen came back, leading the horses.

"We'd better hurry," Wolf said. "As soon as Dravor drops off to sleep, Y'diss is going to go down to his dungeon and find out that we've left. Lead the horses. Let's get away from the house before we start making any noise."

They went down through the moonlit garden with the horses trailing along after them until they emerged on the open lawn beyond. They mounted carefully.

"We'd better hurry," Aunt Pol suggested, glancing back at the house.

"I bought us a little time before I left," Silk said with a short laugh.

"How'd you manage that?" Barak asked.

"When I went to get our weapons, I also set fire to the kitchen." Silk smirked. "That will keep their attention for a bit."

A tendril of smoke rose from the back of the house.

"Very clever," Aunt Pol said with a certain grudging admiration.

"Why thank you, my Lady." Silk made a mocking little bow. Mister Wolf chuckled and led them away at an easy trot.

The tendril of smoke at the back of the house became thicker as they rode away, rising black and oily toward the uncaring stars.

Chapter Fifteen

THEY RODE HARD for the next several days, stopping only long enough to rest the horses and catch a few hours' sleep at infrequent intervals. Garion found that he could doze in his saddle whenever they walked the horses. He found, indeed, that if he were tired enough, he could sleep almost anyplace. One afternoon as they rested from the driving pace Wolf set, he heard Silk talking to the old man and Aunt Pol. Curiosity finally won out over exhaustion, and he roused himself enough to listen.

"I'd still like to know more about Salmissra's involvement in this," the little man was saying.