"What about the smell?" Silk asked.
"I'll take care of that." She went to one of the packs and removed a small glass bottle. "I expect you to buy me some more of this, Prince Kheldar," she said firmly.
"You stole the wrong kind of carriage, so it's up to you to replace what I have to use to smooth over your blunder.''
"What is it?" he asked suspiciously.
"Perfume, Kheldar, and it's dreadfully expensive." She looked at Garion, her smile dimpling her cheeks. "I'll need you to translate for me," she said. "I wouldn't want the wolf to misunderstand when I start to sprinkle this on her."
"Of course."
When the two of them returned from the sledlike contraption the wolf and her puppy were riding in, they found Ce'Nedra firmly ensconced on the front seat of the smart little carriage. "This will do very nicely, Prince Kheldar," she said brightly.
"Thank you ever so much."
"But-"
"Was there something?" she asked, her eyes wide.
Silk's expression grew surly, and he wandered away muttering to himself.
"His morning has taken a turn for the worse, hasn't it?" Zakath observed to Garion.
"He's doing all right," Garion replied. "He got all the entertainment out of cheating that merchant and stealing the carriage. He gets unbearable if he has too many successes in a row. Ce'Nedra and Liselle usually manage to let the air out of him, though."
"You mean they cooked all that up between them?"
"They didn't have to. They've been doing it for so long now that they don't even have to discuss it any more."
"Do you think Liselle’s perfume will work?"
"There's one way to find out," Garion said.
They transferred the injured wolf from the sled to the front seat of the two-wheeled carriage and dabbed some perfume on the bridge of the horse's nose. Then they stepped back and looked closely at the horse while Ce'Nedra held the reins tightly. The horse looked a bit suspicious, but did not panic. Garion went back for the puppy and deposited him in Ce'Nedra's lap. She smiled, patted the she-wolf on the head, and shook the reins gently.
"That's really unfair," Silk complained to Garion as they all moved out in the Rivan Queen's wake.
"Did you want to share that seat with the she-wolf?" Garion asked him.
Silk frowned. "I hadn't thought of that, I guess," he admitted. "She wouldn't really bite me, though, would she?"
"I don't think so, but then, you never know with wolves."
"I think I'll stay where I am, then."
"That might be a good idea."
‘'Aren't you just a little worried about Ce'Nedra? That wolf could eat her in two bites."
"No. She won't do that. She knows that Ce'Nedra's my mate and she sort of likes me."
"Ce'Nedra's your wife." Silk shrugged. "If the wolf bites her in two, I suppose Polgara could put her back together again."
As they started out, a thought came to Garion. He rode forward and fell in beside Zakath. "You're the Emperor of Mallorea, right?"
"How nice of you to notice finally," Zakath replied dryly.
"Then how is it that you didn't know about that curse Beldin was talking about?"
"As you may have noticed, Garion, I pay very little attention to the Grolims. I knew that most of them wouldn't go there, but I thought it was just a superstition of some kind."
"A good ruler tries to know everything he can about his kingdom," Garion said, then realized how priggish that sounded. "Sorry, Zakath," he apologized. "That didn't come out exactly the way I'd intended it to."
"Garion," Zakath said patiently, "your kingdom's a small island. I'd imagine you know most of your subjects personally.''
"Well, a lot of them—by sight, anyway."
"I thought you might. You know their problems, their dreams, and their hopes, and you take a personal interest in them."
"Well, yes, I suppose I do."
"You're a good king—probably one of the best in the world—but it's very easy to be a good king when your kingdom is so small. You've seen my empire, though—part of it anyway—and I'm sure you have at least some idea of how many people live here. It would be utterly impossible for me to be a good king. That's why I'm an emperor instead."
"And a God?" Garion asked slyly.
"No. I'll leave that particular delusion to Urvon and Zandramas. People's wits seem to slip a bit when they aspire to divinity, and, believe me, I need all my wits about me. I found that out after I'd wasted half my life trying to destroy Taur Urgas."
"Garion, dear," Ce'Nedra called from the carriage.
"Yes?"
''"Could you come back here a moment? The wolf is whimpering a little, and I don't know how to ask her what the trouble is."
"I'll be right back," Garion said to Zakath, turning Chretienne around and trotting back to the carriage.
Ce'Nedra sat in the carriage with the wolf pup in her lap. The little creature lay blissfully on his back with all four paws in the air while she scratched his furry tummy.
The she-wolf lay on the seat beside her. The wolfs ears were twitching and her eyes were mournful.
"Are you in pain?" Garion asked her.
"Does this she of yours always talk this much?" she whined.
It was impossible to lie, and evasion was almost as much out of the question. "Yes," he admitted.
"Can you make her stop?"
"I can try." He looked at Ce'Nedra. "The wolf is very tired," he told her. "She wants to go to sleep."
"I'm not stopping her."
"You’ve been talking to her," he pointed out gently.
"I was only trying to make friends with her, Garion."
"You're already friends. She likes you. Now let her go to sleep."
Ce'Nedra pouted. "I won't bother her," she said, sounding a bit injured. "I'll talk to the puppy instead."
"He's tired, too."
"How can they be so tired in the daytime?"
"Wolves usually hunt at night. This is their normal sleeping time."
"Oh. I didn't know that. All right, Garion. Tell her that I'll be quiet while they sleep."
"Little sister," he said to the wolf, "she promises not to talk to you if your eyes are closed."
The wolf gave him a puzzled look.
"She will think you're sleeping."
The wolf managed to look shocked. "Is it possible in the language of the man-things to say that which is not truth?"