‘I never had a dog,’ Garion said.

‘That was unkind of you, Aunt Pol,’ Ce’Nedra said, lapsing unconsciously – or perhaps not – into that form of address.

‘He wouldn’t have had time to look after one, Ce’Nedra,’ Polgara replied. ‘Our Garion has had a very busy life.’

‘Let’s hope that it gets less so when this is all over,’ Garion said.

After they had eaten, Captain Kresca entered the cabin carrying a map. ‘This isn’t very precise,’ he apologized. ‘As I said last night, I was never able to take very accurate soundings around that peak. We can inch our way to within a few hundred yards of the beach, and then we’ll have to take to the long-boat. This fog is going to make it even more complicated, I’m afraid.’

‘Is there a beach along the east side of the peak?’ Belgarath asked him.

‘A very shallow one,’ Kresca replied. ‘The neap tide should expose a bit more of it, though.’

‘Good. There are a few things we’ll need to take ashore with us.’ Belgarath pointed at the two stout canvas bags holding the armor Garion and Zakath would wear.

‘I’ll have some men stow them in the boat for you.’

‘When can we get started?’ Ce’Nedra asked impatiently.

‘Another twenty minutes or so, little lady.’

‘So long?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you can figure out a way to make the sun come up early.’

Ce’Nedra looked quickly at Belgarath.

‘Never mind,’ he told her.

‘Captain,’ Poledra said, ‘could you have someone look after our pet?’ She pointed at the wolf. ‘He’s a bit over-enthusiastic sometimes, and we wouldn’t want him to start howling at the wrong time.’

‘Of course, Lady.’ Kresca, it appeared, had not spent enough time ashore to recognize a wolf when he saw one.

‘Inching’ proved to be a very tedious process. The sailors raised the anchors and then manned the oars. After every couple of strokes, they paused while a man in the bow heaved out the lead-weighted sounding line.

‘It’s slow,’ Silk observed in a low voice as they all stood on deck, ‘but at least it’s quiet. We don’t know who’s on that reef, and I’d rather not alert them.’

‘It’s shoaling, Captain,’ the man with the sounding line reported, his voice no louder than absolutely necessary. The obviously warlike preparations of Garion and his friends had stressed the need for quiet louder than any words. The sailor cast out his line again. There was that interminable-seeming wait while the ship drifted up over the weighted line. ‘The bottom’s coming up fast, Captain,’ the sounder said then. ‘I make it two fathoms.’

‘Back your oars,’ Kresca commanded his crew in a low voice. ‘Drop the hook. This is as close as we can go.’ He turned to his mate. ‘After we get away in the long-boat, back out about another hundred yards and anchor there. We’ll whistle when we come back – the usual signal. Guide us in.’

‘Aye, aye, Cap’n.’

‘You’ve done this before, I see,’ Silk said to Kresca.

‘A few times, yes,’ Kresca admitted.

‘If all goes well today, you and I might want to have a little talk. I have a business proposition that I think might interest you.’

‘Is that all you ever think about?’ Velvet asked him.

‘A missed opportunity is gone forever, my dear Liselle,’ he replied with a certain pomposity.

‘You’re incorrigible.’

‘I suppose you could say that, yes.’

An oil-soaked wad of burlap in the hawsehole muffled the rattling of the anchor chain as the heavy iron hook sank down through the dark water. Garion felt rather than heard the grating of the points of the anchor on the rocks lying beneath the heavy swells.

‘Let’s board the longboat,’ Kresca said. ‘The crew will lower her after we’re all on board.’ He looked apologetically at them. ‘I’m afraid you and your friends are going to have to help with the rowing, Garion. The longboat only holds so many people.’

‘Of course, Captain.’

‘I’ll come along to make sure you get ashore safely.’

‘Captain,’ Belgarath said then, ‘once we’re ashore, stand your ship out to sea a ways. We’ll signal you when we’re ready to be picked up.’

‘All right.’

‘If you don’t see a signal by tomorrow morning, you might as well go on back to Perivor, because we won’t be coming back.’

Kresca’s face was solemn. ‘Is whatever it is you’re planning to do on that reef really that dangerous?’ he asked.

‘Probably even more so,’ Silk told him. ‘We’ve all been trying very hard not to think about it.’

It was eerie rowing across the oily-seeming black water with the grayish tendrils of fog rising from the heavy swells. Garion was suddenly reminded of that foggy night in Sthiss Tor when they had crossed the River of the Serpent with only the unerring sense of direction of the one-eyed assassin Issus to guide them. Idly, as he rowed, Garion wondered whatever had happened to Issus.

After every ten stokes or so, Captain Kresca, who stood in the stern at the tiller, signaled for them to stop, and he cocked his head, listening to the sound of the surf. ‘Another couple hundred yards now,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You there,’ he said to the sailor in the bow who held another sounding line, ‘keep busy with that lead. I don’t want to hit any rocks. Sing out if it starts shoaling.’

‘Aye, aye, Cap’n.’

The longboat crept on through dark and fog toward the unseen beach where the long wash and slither of the waves on graveled shingle made that peculiar grating sound as each wave lifted pebbles from the beach to carry them up to the very verge of land and then, with melancholy and regretful note, to draw them back again as if the ever-hungry sea mourned its inability to engulf the land and turn all the world into one endless ocean where huge waves, unimpeded, could roll thrice around the globe.

The heavy fog bank lying to the east began to turn lighter and lighter as dawn broke over the dark, mist-obscured waves.

‘Another hundred yards,’ Kresca said tensely.

‘When we get there, Captain,’ Belgarath said to him, ‘keep your men in the boat. They won’t be permitted to land anyway, and they’d better not try. We’ll push you back out as soon as we get ashore.’