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loomed in the shadows, and monstrous things pursued him across twisted landscapes where the possible and the impossible merged and joined as that other world reached out to claim him.

Chapter Three
    SOME FEW MORNINGS later, when Aunt Pol had begun to scowl at his continued lurking in her kitchen, the old man made excuse of some errand to the nearby village of Upper Gralt.
    "Good," Aunt Pol said, somewhat ungraciously. "At least my pantries will be safe while you're gone."
    He bowed mockingly, his eyes twinkling. "Do you need anything, Mistress Pol?" he asked. "Some trifling thing I might purchase for you - as long as I'm going anyway?"
    Aunt Pol thought a moment. "Some of my spice pots are a bit low," she said, "and there's a Tolnedran spice merchant in Fennel Lane just south of the Town Tavern. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding the tavern."
    "The trip is likely to be dry," the old man admitted pleasantly. "And lonely, too. Ten leagues with no one to talk to is a long way."
    "Talk to the birds," Aunt Pol suggested bluntly.
    "Birds listen well enough," the old man said, "but their speech is repetitious and quickly grows tiresome. Why don't I take the boy along for company?"
    Garion held his breath.
    "He's picking up enough bad habits on his own," Aunt Pol said tartly. "I'd prefer his not having expert instruction."
    "Why, Mistress Pol," the old man objected, stealing a cruller almost absently, "you do me an injustice. Besides, a change will do the boy good - broaden his horizons, you might say."
    "His horizons are quite broad enough, thank you," she said.
    Garion's heart sank.
    "Still," she continued, "at least I can count on him not to forget my spices altogether or to become so fuddled with ale that he confuses peppercorns with cloves or cinnamon with nutmeg. Very well, take the boy along; but mind, I don't want you taking him into any low or disreputable places."
    "Mistress Pol!" the old man said, feigning shock. "Would I frequent such places?"
    "I know you too well, Old Wolf," she said dryly. "You take to vice and corruption as naturally as a duck takes to a pond. If I hear that you've taken the boy into any unsavory place, you and I will have words."
    "Then I'll have to make sure that you don't hear of anything like that, won't I?"
    Aunt Pol gave him a hard look. "I'll see which spices I need," she said.
    "And I'll borrow a horse and cart from Faldor," the old man said, stealing another cruller.
    In a surprisingly short time, Garion and the old man were bouncing along the rutted road to Upper Gralt behind a fast-trotting horse. It was a bright summer morning, and there were a few dandelion-puff' clouds in the sky and deep blue shadows under the hedgerows. After a few hours, however, the sun became hot, and the jolting ride became tiresome.
    "Are we almost there?" Garion asked for the third time.
    "Not for some time yet," the old man said. "Ten leagues is a goodly distance."
    "I was there once before," Garion told him, trying to sound casual. "Of course I was only a child at the time, so I don't remember too much about it. It seemed to be quite a fine place."
    The old man shrugged. "It's a village," he said, "much like any other." He seemed a bit preoccupied.
    Garion, hoping to nudge the old man into a story to make the miles go faster, began asking questions.
    "Why is it that you have no name - if I'm not being impolite in asking?"
    "I have many names," the old man said, scratching his white beard. "Almost as many names as I have years."
    "I've only got one," Garion said.
    "So far."
    "What?"
    "You only have one name so far," the old man explained. "In time you may get another - or even several. Some people collect names as they go along through their lives. Sometimes names wear out just like clothes."
    "Aunt Pol calls you Old Wolf," Garion said.
    "I know," the old man said. "Your Aunt Pol and I have known each other for a very long time."
    "Why does she call you that?"
    "Who can say why a woman such as your Aunt