"I'm forgetting my manners," Wolf apologized. "My daughter, Polgara. Pol, this is Count Reldegen, an old friend."

"My Lady," the count acknowledged with an exquisite bow, "my house is honored."

Aunt Pol was about to reply when two young men burst into the room, arguing heatedly.

"You're an idiot, Berentain!" the first, a darkhaired youth in a scarlet doublet, snapped.

"It may please thee to think so, Torasin," the second, a stout young man with pale, curly hair and wearing a green and yellow striped tunic, replied, "but whether it please thee or not, Asturias future is in Mimbrate hands. Thy rancorous denouncements and sulfurous rhetoric shall not alter that fact."

"Don't thee me or thou me, Berentain," the dark-haired one sneered. "Your imitation Mimbrate courtesy turns my stomach."

"Gentlemen, that's enough!" Count Reldegen said sharply, rapping his cane on the stone floor. "If you two are going to insist on discussing politics, I'll have you separated - forcibly, if necessary."

The two young men scowled at each other and then stalked off to opposite sides of the room. "My son, Torasin," the count admitted apologetically, indicating the dark-haired youth, "and his cousin Berentain, the son of my late wife's brother. They've been wrangling like this for two weeks now. I had to take their swords away from them the day after Berentain arrived."

"Political discussion is good for the blood, my Lord," Silk observed, "especially in the winter. The heat keeps the veins from clogging up."

The count chuckled at the little man's remark.

"Prince Kheldar of the royal house of Drasnia," Mister Wolf introduced Silk.

"Your Highness," the count responded, bowing.

Silk winced slightly. "Please, my Lord. I've spent a lifetime running from that mode of address, and I'm sure that my connection with the royal family embarrasses my uncle almost as much as it embarrasses me."

The count laughed again with easy good nature. "Why don't we all adjourn to the dining table?" he suggested. "Two fat deer have been turning on spits in my kitchen since daybreak, and I recently obtained a cask of red wine from southern Tolnedra. As I recall, Belgarath has always had a great fondness for good food and fine wines."

"He hasn't changed, my Lord," Aunt Pol told him. "My father's ternbly predictable, once you get to know him."

The count smiled and offered her his arm as they all moved toward a door on the far side of the room.

"Tell me, my Lord," Aunt Pol said, "do you by chance have a bathtub in your house?"

"Bathing in winter is dangerous, Lady Polgara," the count warned her.

"My Lord," she stated gravely, "I've been bathing winter or summer for more years than you could possibly imagine."

"Let her bathe, Reldegen," Mister Wolf urged. "Her temper deteriorates quite noticeably when she thinks she's getting dirty."

"A bath wouldn't hurt you either, Old Wolf," Aunt Pol retorted tartly. "You're starting to get a bit strong from the downwind side."