"Between them, they're going to wear that little thing out," Silk noted clinically.

"That's all right," Garion replied. "I've got a couple of spares in my pack." Then he remembered something. ‘‘Grandfather," he said, "in all the excitement, I almost forgot something. Before she changed into the dragon, I heard Zandramas talking with Naradas."

"Oh?"

"He's been in Gandahar and he's taking a regiment of elephant cavalry to the battlefield."

"That won't matter very much to the demons."

"The demons aren't there any more. Zandramas raised another Demon Lord—Mordja, his name is—and he's managed to lure Nahaz away from the battlefield. They've gone off someplace else to fight."

Belgarath scratched at one bearded cheek. "Just how is that elephant cavalry out of Gandahar?" he asked.

"Pretty close to invincible," Silk replied. "They drape them in chain mail, and they trample wide paths through opposing armies. If the demons have left the field, Urvon's army hasn't got a chance.''

"There are too many people involved in this race anyway," Belgarath grunted. "Let's get across the Magan and leave all these armies to their own devices."

They ate breakfast and rode out from the farmstead as the first light of dawn began to creep slowly up out of the eastern horizon. Oddly, Garion felt no particular weariness despite a night significantly short on sleep. A great deal had happened since the sun had gone down, and he had much to think about. The sun had risen when they reached the great River Magan. Then, following Toth's gestured directions, they rode slowly southward, looking for a village where they might find a boat large enough to carry them across to Darshiva. The day was warm, and the grass and trees had all been washed clean by the previous night's storm.

They came to a small settlement of mud-smeared shacks standing on stilts, with rickety docks thrusting out into the river. A lone fisherman sat at the end of one of the docks negligently holding a long cane pole.

"Talk to him, Durnik," Belgarath said. "See if he knows where we can hire a boat."

The smith nodded and reined his horse around. On an impulse, Garion followed him. They dismounted at the landward end of the dock and walked out toward the fisherman. He was a stumpy-looking little fellow, dressed in a homespun tunic and with muddy, baglike shoes on his feet. His bare legs were laced with knotty, purple veins, and they were not very clean. His face was tanned, and he was not so much bearded as unshaven.

"Any luck?" Durnik asked him.

"See fer yerself," the fisherman said, pointing at the wooden tub at his side. He did not turn, but rather kept his eyes intently on the floating red stick to which his line was attached and which dangled his baited hook down into the murky water of the river. The tub was half-full of water, and several foot-long trout swam in circles in it. The fish had angry-looking eyes and jutting lower jaws.

Durnik squatted down beside the fisherman, his hands on his knees. "Nice-looking fish," he observed.

"A fish is a fish." The stumpy fellow shrugged. "They look better on the plate than they do in the tub."

"That's why we catch them," Durnik agreed. "What are you using for bait?"

"Tried angleworms earlier," the fellow replied laconically. "Didn't seem to interest 'em, so I switched over to fish roe."

"I don't think I've ever tried that," Durnik admitted. "How does it work?"

"Caught them five in the last half hour. Sometimes it makes 'em so excited, you go to go behind a tree to bait your hook to keep 'em from chasin’ you right up onto the bank"

"I'll have to try it," Durnik said, eyeing the water wistfully. "Have you got any idea of where we might be able to hire a boat? We've got to go across the river."

The fisherman turned and stared at the smith incredulously. "To the Darshiva side?" he exclaimed. "Man, are out of your mind?"

"Is there some trouble over there?"

"Trouble? That don't even begin to describe what's hap-over there. You ever hear tell of what they call a ion?"

A few times."

"You ever seen one?"

"Once, I think."

There's no think about it, friend. If you seen one, you'd know." The fellow shuddered. "They're just plain awful. Well, sir, the whole of Darshiva's just crawlin' with 'em. there's this Grolim, he come down from the north with a pack of ‘em snappin' an' growlin' at his heels. Then there's this other Grolim—a woman, if you can believe that— Zandramas, her name is, an' she stepped back an' cast a spell an’ hauled some of her own out of wherever it is they come from, an' them demons is fightin' each other over there in Darshiva."

"We'd heard that there was fighting to the north of here in Peldane."

"Those are just ordinary troops, and what they're fightin' is an ordinary war with swords an' axes an' burnin' pitch ’n’ all. The demons, they all went across the river lookin' fer fresh ground to tear up an’ fresh people to eat. They do it, y'know—demons I mean. They eat folks—alive, most the time."

"I'm afraid we still have to go over there," Durnik told him.

"I hope yer a good swimmer then. Yer gonna have no luck at all findin' a boat. Ever’body from here jumped on anythin' as would float an’ headed downriver t'ward Gandahar. Guess they figgered them wild elephants down there a whole lot preferable to demons."

"I think you're getting a bite," Durnik said politely, pointing at the floating stick on the stumpy man's line. The stick was submerging and popping back to the surface again.

The fisherman jerked his pole straight up into the air and then swore. "Missed 'im," he said.

"You can't catch them all," Durnik said philosophically.

"You can sure try, though." The fellow laughed, pulling in his line and rebaiting his hook with a dripping gobbet of fish roe he took from an earthenware bowl at his side.

"I'd try under the dock, myself," Durnik advised. "Trout always seem to like shade."

"That's the good thing about usin' fish roe fer bait," the fisherman said sagely. "They kin smell it, an' they'll go fer it even if they gotta climb a fence to get there." He cast his line out again and absently wiped his hand on the front of his tunic.

"How is it that you stayed behind?" Durnik asked. "I mean, if there's so much trouble around here, why didn't you go to Gandahar with the other people who left here?"