"No, dear," she said firmly. "You just need a bit of practice, that's all." His third attempt was somewhat more successful. He was beginning to get the knack of coordinating his wings and, tail, but he still felt clumsy and he seemed to do a great deal of clawing ineffectually at the air.
"Garion, don't fight with it. Let it lift you."
They circled the meadow several times in the shadowless luminosity of dawn. Garion could see the smoke rising black from the city and the burned-out shipyards in the harbor as he followed Polgara in a steady upward spiral. As his confidence increased, he began to feel a fierce exhilaration. The rush of cool morning air through his feathers was intoxicating, and he found that he could lift himself higher and higher almost effortlessly. By the time the sun was fully up, the air was no longer an enemy, and he had begun to master the hundreds of minute muscular adjustments necessary to get the greatest possible efficiency out of his feathers.
Belgarath swooped in to join them with Durnik not far behind. "How's he doing?" the fierce-looking falcon asked Polgara.
"He's almost ready, father."
Good. Let him practice for another fifteen minutes or so, and then we'll get started. There's a column of warm air rising off that lake over there. That always makes it easier." He tilted on one wing and veered away in a long, smooth arc.
"This is really very fine, Pol," Durnik said. "I should have learned how to do this years ago."
When they moved into the column of air rising from the surface of the warm waters of the lake, Garion learned the secret of effortless flight. With his wings spread and unmoving, he let the air lift him up and up. Objects on the far below shrank as he rose higher and higher. Jarviksholm now looked like a toy village, and its harbor was thick with miniature ships. The hills and forests were bright green in the morning sunshine. The sea was azure, and the snowfields on the higher peaks were so intensely white that they almost hurt his eyes.
"How high would you say we are?" he heard Durnik ask Belgarath.
"Several thousand feet."
"It's sort of like swimming, isn't it? It doesn't really matter how deep the water is, because you're only using the top of it anyway."
"I never really thought of it that way." Belgarath looked over at Aunt Pol. "This should be high enough", he said in the shrill, falcon's whistle. "Let's go to Riva." The four of them beat steadily southwest, leaving the Cherek coast behind and flying out over the Sea of the Winds. For a time, a following breeze aided them, but at the breeze dropped, and they had to work for every mile. Garion's shoulders ached, and the unaccustomed effort of flying made the muscles in his chest burn. Grimly, he flew below him he could see the miles-long waves on the Sea of the Winds, looking from this height almost like ripples the surface in the afternoon sunlight.
The sun was low over the western horizon when the rocky coast of the Isle of the Winds came into view. They flew southward along the east coast and spiraled down at last toward the uplifted towers and battlements of the Citadel, grim and gray over the city of Riva.
A sentry, leaning idly on his spear atop the highest parapet, startled as the four speckled falcons swooped in to around him, and his eyes bulged with astonishment as they shimmered into human form. "Y-your Majesty," he stammered to Garion, awkwardly trying to bow and hold on to his spear at the same time.
"What happened here?" Garion demanded.
"Someone has abducted your son, Sire," the sentry reported. "We've sealed off the island, but we haven't caught him yet."
"Let's go down," Garion said to the others. "I want to talk to Ce'Nedra." But that, of course, was nearly impossible. As soon as Garion entered the blue-carpeted royal apartment, she flew into his arms and collapsed in a storm of hysterical weeping. He could feel her tiny body trembling violently against him, and her fingers dug into his arms as she clung to him.
"Ce'Nedra," he pleaded with her, "you've got to stop. You have to tell us what happened."
"He's gone, Garion," she wailed. "S-somebody came into the n-nursery and t-took him!" She began to cry again.
Ariana, Lelldorin's blond Mimbrate wife, stood not far away, and the dark-haired Adara stood at the window, looking on with a grieved expression.
"Why don't you see what you can do, Pol," Belgarath said quietly. "Try to get her calmed down. I'll need to talk to her -but probably later. Right now, I think the rest of us should go talk to Kail."
Polgara had gravely removed her cloak, folded it carefully, and laid it across the back of a chair. "All right, father," she replied. She came over and gently took the sobbing little queen out of Garion's arms. "It's all right, Ce'Nedra," she said soothingly. "We're here now. We'll take care of everything."
Ce'Nedra clung to her. "Oh, Lady Polgara," she cried.
"Have you given her anything?" Aunt Pol asked Ariana.
"Nay, my Lady Polgara," the blond girl replied. "I feared that in her distraught condition those potions which most usually have a calming effect might do her in jury."
"Let me have a look at your medicine kit."
"At once, Lady Polgara."
"Come along," Belgarath said to Garion and Durnik, a steely glint coming into his eyes. "Let's go find Kail and see if we can get to the bottom of this."
They found Kail sitting wearily at a table in his father's office. Spread before him was a large map of the island, and he was pouring over it intently.
"It happened sometime yesterday morning, Belgarion," he said gravely after they had exchanged the briefest of greetings. "It was before daybreak. Queen Ce'Nedra looked in on the prince a few hours past midnight, and everything was fine. A couple of hours later, he was gone."
"What have you done so far?" Belgarath asked him.
"I ordered the island sealed," Kail replied, "and then we searched the Citadel from one end to the other. Whoever took the prince was nowhere in the fortress, but no ship has arrived or departed since I gave that order, and the harbor master reports that nobody sailed after midnight yesterday. So far as I know, the abductor has not left the Isle of the Winds."
"Good," Garion said, a sudden hope welling up in him.
"At the moment, I have troops searching house by house in the city, and ships are patrolling every inch of the coastline. The island is completely sealed off."
"Have you searched the forests and mountains?" the old man asked. "We want to finish the search of the city first," Kail said. "Then we'll seal the city and move the troops out into the surrounding countryside." Belgarath nodded, staring at the map. "We want to move carefully," he said. "Let's not back this child stealer into a corner -at least not until we have my great-grandson safely back where he belongs."