"Maybe you and Zakath should speak with the baron alone," Belgarath told Garion. "You've covered your own need for anonymity fairly well, but if the rest of us are around, he might start asking for introductions. Feel him out rather carefully. Inquire about local customs, that sort of thing, and ask him about any incidental wars going on." He looked at Zakath. "What's the capital of the island?"

"Dal Perivor, I think."

"That's where we'll want to go then. Where is it?"

"On the other side of the island."

"Naturally." Silk sighed.

"You'd better get started," Belgarath told the two armored men. "Don't keep our host waiting."

"When this is all over, would you consider hiring him out to me?" Zakath asked Garion as the two of them clanked down the hall. "You could make a tidy profit, you know, and I'd have the most efficient government in the world."

"Do you really want a man who's likely to live forever running your government?” Garion asked in an amused tone. "Not to mention the fact that he's probably more corrupt than Silk and Sadi put together? That is a very bad old man, Kal Zakath. He's wiser than whole generations, and he's got a large number of disgusting habits.”

"He's your grandfather, Garion," Zakath protested. "How can you talk about him like that?"

"Truth is truth, your Majesty."

"You Alorns are a very strange people, my friend."

"We've never tried to hide that, my friend."

There was a clicking of toenails from behind, and the she-wolf slipped up between them. "One wonders where you are bound," she said to Garion.

"One and one's friend go to speak with the master of this house, little sister," he replied.

"One will accompany you and your friend," she said. "If needful, one may help to prevent missteps."

"What did she say?" Zakath asked.

"She's coming along to keep us from making any serious mistakes," Garion said.

"A wolf?"

"This is no ordinary wolf, Zakath. I'm beginning to have some suspicions about her.”

"One is gratified that even a puppy may show some semblance of perception." The wolf sniffed.

"Thank you," he said. "One is happy to gain approval from one so dearly loved."

She wagged her tail at him. "One requests, however, that you keep your discovery to yourself."

"Of course," he promised.

"What was that all about?" Zakath asked.

"It's a wolfy sort of thing," Garion said. "It doesn't really translate."

Baron Astellig had removed his armor and sat in a massive chair before a crackling hearth. "It is ever thus, Sir Knights," he said. "Stone doth provide protection from foes, but it is forever cold, and the chill of winter is slow to seep away from its obdurate surface. Perforce we are required to maintain our fires even when summer doth bathe our isle with its gentle warmth."

"It is, my Lord, as thou sayest," Garion replied. "E'en the massive walls of Vo Mimbre do harbor this oppressive chill."