"You'll go because I tell you to go," Aunt Pol told the tiny girl. "I'm not your father, Ce'Nedra. Your pouting doesn't wring my heart, and your fluttering eyelashes don't really impress me."

"I'll run away," Ce'Nedra threatened.

"That would be very foolish," Aunt Pol said coldly. "I'd just have to bring you back again, and you'd find that unpleasant. Affairs in the world just now are much too serious to allow the whims of one spoiled little girl to have very much importance. You'll stay with me, and you will stand in the Hall of the Rivan King on your sixteenth birthday even if I have to take you there in chains. We're all much too busy to pamper you any further."

Ce'Nedra stared at her, and then she suddenly burst into tears.

Chapter Twenty-two

THE NEXT MORNING before the sun rose and while filmy mist still hovered beneath the limbs of the great oaks, Silk and Mister Wolf made preparations to leave for Nyissa. Garion sat on a log, somberly watching the old man bundle up some food.

"Why so glum?" Wolf asked him.

"I wish we didn't have to separate this way," Garion said.

"It's only for a couple of weeks."

"I know, but I still wish-" Garion shrugged.

"Keep an eye on your Aunt for me while I'm gone," Wolf said, tying up his bundle.

"All right."

"And keep your amulet on. Nyissa's a dangerous place."

"I'll remember," Garion promised. "You'll be careful, won't you, grandfather?"

The old man looked at him gravely, his white beard glistening in the misty light. "I'm always careful, Garion," he said.

"It's getting late, Belgarath," Silk called, leading two horses up to where the two of them were talking.

Wolf nodded. "We'll see you in two weeks in Sthiss Tor," he said to Garion.

Garion embraced the old man quickly and then turned away so that he wouldn't have to watch the two of them leave. He crossed the clearing to where Mandorallen stood pensively looking out into the mist.

"Parting is a melancholy business," the knight said moodily. He sighed.

"It's more than that though, isn't it, Mandorallen?" Garion asked.

"Thou art a perceptive lad."

"What's been troubling you? You've been acting strangely for the last two days."

"I have discovered a strange feeling within myself, Garion, and I like it not."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Fear," Mandorallen said shortly.

"Fear? Of what?"

"The clay men. I know not why, but their very existence struck a chill into my soul."

"They frightened us all, Mandorallen," Garion told him.

"I have never been afraid before," Mandorallen said quietly.

"Never?"

"Not even as a child. The clay men made my very flesh creep, and I wanted most desperately to run away."

"But you didn't," Garion pointed out. "You stayed and fought."