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were very interesting. How are you?" But the old man had already drifted back into sleep.
    "At least he's starting to come around," Durnik noted.
    "It will be several days before he's fully recovered," Polgara told him, putting her hand to Belgarath's forehead. "He's still terribly weak."
    Garion slept for most of the day, wrapped in his blankets and lying on the stony ground. When the chill and a particularly uncomfortable rock under his hip finally woke him, it was late afternoon. Silk sat guard near the mouth of the ravine, staring out at the black sand and the grayish salt flats, but the rest were all asleep. As he walked quietly down to where the little man sat, Garion noticed that Aunt Pol slept with Errand in her arms, and he pushed away a momentary surge of jealousy. Taiba murmured something as he passed, but a quick glance told him that she was not awake. She was lying not far from Relg; in her sleep, her hand seemed to be reaching out toward the slumbering Ulgo.
    Silk's sharp little face was alert and he showed no signs of weariness. "Good morning," he murmured, "or whatever."
    "Don't you ever get tired?" Garion asked him, speaking quietly so that his voice would not disturb the others.
    "I slept a bit," Silk told him.
    Durnik came out from under the canvas roof to join them, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. "I'll relieve you now," he said to Silk. "Did you see anything?" He squinted out toward the lowering sun.
    Silk shrugged. "Some Murgos. They were a couple of miles off to the south. I don't think anyone's found our trail yet. We might have to make it a little more obvious for them."
    Garion felt a peculiar, oppressive sort of weight on the back of his neck. He glanced around uncomfortably. Then, with no warning, there was a sudden sharp stab that seemed to go straight into his mind. He gasped and tensed his will, pushing the attack away.
    "What's wrong?" Silk asked sharply.
    "A Grolim," Garion snarled, clenching his will as he prepared to fight.
    "Garion!" It was Aunt Pol, and her voice sounded urgent. He turned and darted back in under the canvas with Silk and Durnik on his heels. She had risen to her feet and was standing with her arms protectively about Errand.
    "That was a Grolim, wasn't it?" Garion demanded, his voice sounding a bit shrill.
    "It was more than one," she replied tensely. "The Hierarchs control the Grolims now that Ctuchik's dead. They've joined their wills to try to kill Errand."
    The others, awakened by her sharp cry, were stumbling to their feet and reaching for weapons.
    "Why are they after the boy?" Silk asked.
    "They know that he's the only one who can touch the Orb. They think that if he dies, we won't be able to get it out of Cthol Murgos."
    "What do we do?" Garion asked her, looking around helplessly.
    "I'm going to have to concentrate on protecting the child," she told him. "Step back, Garion."
    "What?"
    "Get back away from me." She bent and drew a circle in the sand, enclosing herself and the little boy in it. "Listen to me, all of you," she said. "Until we're out of this, none of you come any closer to me than this. I don't want any of you getting hurt." She drew herself up, and the white lock in her hair seemed to blaze.
    "Wait," Garion exclaimed.
    "I don't dare. They could attack again at any moment. It's going to be up to you to protect your grandfather and the others."
    " Me?"
    "You're the only one who can do it. You have the power. Use it." She raised her hand.
    "How many of them are there that I have to fight off?" Garion demantled, but he already felt the sudden surge and the peculiar roaring sound in his mind as Aunt Pol's will thrust out. The air about her seemed to shimmer, distorting like heat-waves on a summer afternoon. Garion could actually feel the barrier encircling her. "Aunt Pol?" he said to her. Then he raised his voice and shouted, "Aunt Pol!"
    She shook her head and pointed at her ear. She seemed to say something, but no sound penetrated the shimmering shield