With the fall of Ulfgar, the cult's will to resist broke. Though a few of the more rabid continued to fight, most threw down their weapons in surrender. Grimly, Garion's army rounded them up and herded them through the snowy, blood-stained streets into the town's central square.
Silk and Javelin briefly questioned a sullen captive with a bloody bandage wrapped around his head, then joined Garion and Durnik, who stood watch over their still-unconscious prisoner. "Is that him?" Silk asked curiously, absently polishing one of his rings on the front of his gray doublet.
Garion nodded.
"He doesn't look all that impressive, does he?"
"The large stone house over there is his," Javelin said, pointing at a square building with red tiles on its roof.
"Not any more," Garion replied. "It's mine now."
Javelin smiled briefly. "We'll want to search it rather thoroughly," he said. "People sometimes forget to destroy important things."
"We might as well take Ulfgar in there, too," Garion said. "We need to question him, and that house is as good as any."
"I'll go get the others," Durnik offered, pulling off his pot-shaped helmet. "Do you think it's safe enough to bring Pol and the other ladies into the city yet?"
"It should be," Javelin replied. "What little resistance there is left is in the southeast quarter of the city."
Durnik nodded and went on across the square, his mail shirt jingling.
Garion, Silk, and Javelin picked up the limp form of the black-bearded man and carried him toward the stately house with the banner of a bear flying from a staff in front of it.
As they started up the stairs, Garion glanced at a Rivan soldier standing guard over some demoralized prisoners huddled miserably in the slush. "Would you do me a favor?" he asked the gray-cloaked man.
"Of course, your Majesty," the soldier said, saluting.
" Chop that thing down." Garion indicated the flagstaff with a thrust of his jaw.
"At once, your Majesty." The soldier grinned. "I should have thought of it myself."
They carried Ulfgar into the house and through a polished door. The room beyond the door was luxuriously furnished, but the chairs were mostly overturned, and there were sheets of parchment everywhere. A crumpled heap of them had been stuffed into a large stone fireplace built into the back wall, but the fireplace was cold.
"Good," Javelin muttered. "He was interrupted before he could burn anything."
Silk looked around at the room. Rich, dark-colored tapestries hung on the walls, and the green carpeting was thick and soft. The chairs were all upholstered in scarlet velvet, and unlighted candles stood in silver sconces along the wall.
"He managed to live fairly well, didn't he?" the little man murmured as they unceremoniously dumped the prisoner in the rust-colored doublet in one corner.
"Let's gather up these documents," Javelin said. "I want to go over them."
Garion unstrapped his sword, dropped his helmet on the floor and shrugged himself out of his heavy mailshirt. Then he sank wearily onto a soft couch. "I'm absolutely exhausted," he said. "I feel as if I haven't slept for a week."
Silk shrugged. "One of the privileges of command."
The door opened, and Belgarath came into the room. "Durnik said I could find you here," he said, pushing back the hood of his shabby old cloak. He crossed the room and nudged the limp form in the corner. "He isn't dead, is he?"
"No," Garion replied. "Durnik put him to sleep with a club is all."
"Why the blindfold?" the old man asked, indicating the strip of blue cloth tied across the captive's face.
"He was using sorcery before we captured him. I thought it might not be a bad idea to cover his eyes."
"That depends on how good he is. Durnik sent soldiers out to round up the others and then he went over to the encampment to get Pol and the other ladies."
"Can you wake him up?" Silk asked.
"Let's have Pol do it. Her touch is a little lighter than mine, and I don't want to break anything accidentally."
It was perhaps three-quarters of an hour later when they all finally gathered in the green-carpeted room. Belgarath looked around, then straddled a straight-backed chair in front of the captive. "All right, Pol," he said bleakly. "Wake him up."
Polgara unfastened her blue cloak, knelt beside the prisoner and put one hand on each side of his head. Garion heard a whispered rushing sound and felt a gentle surge. Ulfgar groaned.
"Give him a few minutes," she said, rising to her feet. "Then you can start questioning him."
"He's probably going to be stubborn about it," Brin predicted with a broad grin.
"I'll be terribly disappointed in him if he isn't," Silk said as he rifled through a drawer in a large, polished cabinet.
"Have you barbarians blinded me?" Ulfgar said in a weak voice as he struggled into a sitting position.
"No," Polgara told him. "Your eyes are covered to keep you out of mischief."
"Are my captors women, then?" There was contempt in the black-bearded man's voice.
"This one of them is," Ce'Nedra said, pushing her dark green cloak slightly to one side. It was the note in her voice that warned Garion and saved the prisoner's life. With blazing eyes, she snatched one of the daggers from Vella's belt and flew at the blindfolded man with the gleaming blade held aloft. At the last instant, Garion caught her upraised arm and wrested the knife from her grasp.
"Give me that!" she cried.
"No, Ce'Nedra."
"He stole my baby!" she screamed. "I'll kill him!"
"No, you won't. We can't get any answers out of him if you cut his throat."
With one arm still about her, he handed the dagger back to Vella.
"We have a few questions for you, Ulfgar," Belgarath said to the captive.
"You're going to have to wait a long time for the answers."
"I'mso glad he said that," Hettar murmured. "Who wants to start cutting on him?"
"Do whatever you wish," Ulfgar sneered. "My body is of no concern to me."
"We'll do everything we can to change your mind about that," Vella said in a chillingly sweet voice as she tested the edge of her dagger with her thumb.
"Just what was it you wanted to know, Belgarath?" Errand asked, turning from his curious examination of a bronze statue standing in the corner. "I can give you the answers, if you want."
Belgarath looked at the blond boy sharply . "Do you know what's in his mind?" he asked, startled.
"More or less, yes."
"Where's my son?" Garion asked quickly.
"That's one thing he doesn't know," Errand replied. "He had nothing to do with the abduction."
"Who did it then?"
"He's not sure, but he thinks it was Zandramas."
"Zandramas?"
"That name keeps cropping up, doesn't it?" Silk said.
"Does he know who Zandramas is?"
"Not really. It's just a name he's heard from his Master."
"Who is his Master?"
"He's afraid to even think the name," Errand said. "It's a man with a splotchy face, though."
The prisoner was struggling desperately, trying to free himself from the ropes which bound him. "Lies!" he screamed. "All lies!"
"This man was sent here by his Master to make sure that you and Ce'Nedra didn't have any children," Errand continued ignoring the screaming captive, "or to see to it that, if you did, the children didn't live. He couldn't have been behind the abduction, Belgarion. Ifhe had been the one who crept into the nursery at Riva, he would have killed your son, not taken him away."
"Where does he come from?" Liselle asked curiously as she removed her scarlet cloak. "I can't quite place his accent."
"That's probably because he's not really a man," Errand told her. " At least not entirely. He remembers being an animal of some sort."
They all stared at the boy and then at Ulfgar.
At that point the door opened again, and the hunchbacked Beldin came into the room. He was about to say something, but stopped, staring at the bound and blindfolded prisoner. He stumped across the floor, bent, and ripped the blue cloth away from the man's eyes to stare into his face. "Well, dog", he said. "What brings you out of your kennel?"
"You!" Ulfgar gasped, his face growing suddenly pale.
"Urvon will have your heart for breakfast when he finds out how badly you've botched things," Beldin said pleasantly.
"Do you know this man?" Garion asked sharply.
"He and I have known each other for a long, long time, haven't we, Harakan?"
The prisoner spat at him.
"I see you will need a little bit of housebreaking." Beldin grinned.
"Who is he?" Garion demanded.
"His name is Harakan. He's a Mallorean Grolim -one of Urvon's dogs. The last time I saw him, he was whining and fawning all over Urvon's feet."
Then, quite suddenly, the captive vanished.
Beldin unleashed a string of foul curses. Then he, too flickered out of sight.
"What happened?" Ce'Nedra gasped. "Where did they go?"
"Maybe Beldin isn't as smart as I thought," Belgarath said. "He should have left that blindfold alone. Our prisoner translocated himself outside the building."
"Can you do that?" Garion asked incredulously. "Without being able to see what you're doing, I mean?"
"It's very, very dangerous, but Harakan seems to have been desperate. Beldin's following him."
"He'll catch him, won't he?"
"It's hard to say."
"I still have questions that have to be answered."
I can answer them for you, Belgarion," Errand told him quite calmly.
"You mean that you still know what's in his mind -even though he's not here any more?"
Errand nodded.
"Why don't you start at the beginning, Errand?" Polgara suggested.
"All right. This Harakan, I guess his real name is, came here because his Master, the one Beldin called Urvon, sent him here to make sure that Belgarion and Ce'Nedra never had any children. Harakan came here and gained control of the Bear-cult. At first he stirred up all kinds of talk against Ce'Nedra, hoping that he could force Belgarion to set her aside and marry someone else. Then, when he heard that she was going to have a baby, he sent someone to try to kill her. That didn't work, of course, and he started to get desperate. He was terribly afraid of what Urvon would do to him if he failed. He tried to gain control of Ce'Nedra when she was asleep once, to make her smother the baby, but someone -he doesn't know who- stepped in and stopped him."
"It was Poledra," Garion murmured. "I was there that night."
"Is that when he came up with the idea of murdering Brand and laying the blame at King Anheg's door?" General Brendig asked.
Errand frowned slightly. "Killing Brand was an accident," he replied. "As closely as Harakan could work it out, Brand just happened along and caught the cultists in that hallway when they were about to do what he really sent them to Riva to do."
" And what was that?" Ce'Nedra asked him.
"They were on their way to the royal apartments to kill you and your baby."
Her face paled.
"And then they were supposed to kill themselves.That was what was supposed to start the war between Belgarion and King Anheg. Anyway, something went wrong. Brand got killed instead of you and your baby, and we found out that the cult was responsible instead of Anheg. He didn't dare go back to Urvon and admit that he had failed. Then Zandramas took your baby and got away from the Isle of the Winds with him. Harakan couldn't follow because Belgarion was already marching on Rheon by the time he found out about it. He was trapped here, and Zandramas was getting away with your baby."
"That Nyissan ship!" Kail exclaimed. "Zandramas stole your son, Belgarion, and then sailed off to the south and left us all floundering around here in Drasnia."
"What about the story we got from that Cherek cultist right after the abduction?" Brin asked.
"A Bear-cultist isn't usually very bright," Kail replied. "I don't think this Zandramas would have had too much difficulty in persuading those Chereks that the abduction was on Harakan's orders, and all that gibberish about the prince being raised in the cult so that one day he could claim the Rivan throne is just kind of brainsick nonsense men like that would believe."
"That's why they were left behind, then," Garion said. "We weresupposed to capture at least one of them and get the carefully prepared story that sent us off here to Rheon, while Zandramas sailed away to the south with my son."
"It looks as if we've all been very carefully manipulated," Javelin said, sorting through some parchment sheets he had stacked on a polished table. "Harakan as well as the rest of us. "
"We can be clever, too," Belgarath said. "I don't think Zandramas realizes that the Orb will follow Geran's trail. If we move fast enough, we can sneak up from behind and take this clever manipulator by surprise."
"It won't work across water."
the dry voice in Garion's mind said laconically.
"What?"
"The Orb can't follow your son's trail over water. The ground stays in one place. Water keeps moving around -wind, tides, that sort of thing."
Are you sure?"
But the voice was gone.
"There's a problem, Grandfather," Garion said. "The Orb can't find a trail on water."
"How do you know that?"
Garion tapped his forehead."He just told me."
"That complicates things a bit."
"Not too much," Silk disagreed. "There are very few places where a Nyissan ship can land without being searched from keel to topmast. Most monarchs don't care much for the idea of having drugs and poisons slipped into their kingdoms. Zandramas would definitely not want to sail into some port and get caught with the heir to the Rivan Throne aboard ship."
"There are many hidden coves along the coast of Arendia, " Lelldorin suggested.
Silk shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "I think the ship would have just stayed out to sea. I'm sure Zandramas wanted to get as far away from the Alorn kingdoms as possible -and as quickly as possible. If this ruse that sent us here to Rheon hadn't worked, Garion would have had every man and every ship in the West out looking for his son."
"How about southern Cthol Murgos?" General Brendig suggested.
Javelin frowned. "No," he said. "There's a war going on down there and the whole west coast is being patrolled by Murgo ships. The only safe place for a Nyissan ship to land is in Nyissa itself."
" And that brings us back to Salmissra, doesn't it?" Polgara said.
"I think that if there had been any kind of official involvement in this, my people would have found out about it, Lady Polgara," Javelin said. "I've got Salmissra's palace thoroughly covered. The actual orders would have had to come from Sadi, Salmissra's Chief-Eunuch, and we watch him all the time. I don't think this came out of the palace."
The door opened and Beldin, his face as dark as a thundercloud, entered. "By the Gods!" he swore. "I lost him!"
"Lost him?" Belgarath asked. "How?"
"When he got to the street, he turned himself into a hawk. I was right on his tail, but he went into the clouds and changed form on me again. When he came out, he was mixed up in the middle of a flock of geese flying south. Naturally, when the geese saw me, they flew off squawking in all directions. I couldn't tell which one of them he was."
"You must be getting old."
"Why don't you shut up, Belgarath?"
"He's not important anymore, anyway." Belgarath shrugged. "We got what we needed out of him."
"I think I'd prefer it if he were safely dead. If nothing else, the loss of one of his favorite dogs would irritate Urvon, and I'll go out of my way to do that any day in the week."
"Why do you keep calling him a dog?" Hettar asked curiously.
"Because he's one of the Chandim -and that's what they are- the Hounds of Torak."
"Would you like to explain that?" Queen Porenn asked him.
Beldin took a deep breath to get his irritation under control. "It's not too complicated," he said. "When they built Cthol Mishrak in Mallorea, Torak set certain Grolims the task of guarding the city. In order to do that, they became hounds."
Garion shuddered, the memory of the huge dog-shapes they had encountered in the City of Night coming back to him with painful clarity.
"Anyway." Beldin continued, "after the Battle of Vo Mimbre when Torak was put to sleep for all those centuries, Urvon went into the forbidden area around the ruins and managed to persuade a part of the pack of hounds that he was acting on behalf of old burnt-face. He took them back to Mal Yaska with him and gradually changed them back into Grolims, even though he had to kill about half of them in the process. Anyhow, they call themselves the Chandim -a sort of secret order within the Grolim church. They're absolutely loyal to Urvon. They're pretty fair sorcerers and they dabble a bit in magic as well. Underneath it all, though, they're still dogs -very obedient and much more dangerous in packs than they are as individuals."
"What a fascinating little sidelight," Silk observed, looking up from a parchment scroll he had found in one of the cabinets.
"You have a very clever mouth, Kheldar," Beldin said testily. "How would you like to have me brick it up for you?"
"No, that's quite all right, Beldin."
"Well, what now, Belgarath?" Queen Porenn asked.
"Now? Now we go after Zandramas, of course. This hoax with the cult has put us a long way behind, but we'll catch up."
"You can count on that," Garion said. "I dealt with the Child of Dark once before and I can do it again if I have to." He turned back to Errand. "Do you have any idea of why Urvon wants my son killed?"
"It's something he found in a book of some kind. The book says that if your son ever falls into the hands of Zandramas, then Zandramas will be able to use him to do something. Whatever it is, Urvon would be willing to destroy the world to prevent it."
"What is it that Zandramas would be able to do?" Belgarath asked, his eyes intent.
"Harakan doesn't know. All he knows is that he's failed in the task Urvon set him."
Belgarath smiled slowly, a cold, wintery kind of smile. "I don't think we need to waste any time chasing down Harakan," he said.
"Not chase him?" Ce'Nedra exclaimed, "After all he's done to us?"
"Urvon will take care of him for us and Urvon will do things to him that we couldn't even begin to think of."
"Who is this Urvon?" General Brendig asked.
"Torak's third disciple," Belgarath replied. "There used to be three of them -Ctuchik, Zedar, and Urvon. But he's the only one left."
"We still don't know anything about Zandramas," Silk said.
"We know a few things. We know that Zandramas is now the Child of Dark, for example."
"That doesn't fit together, Belgarath," Barak rumbled. "Why would Urvon want to interfere with the Child of Dark? They're on the same side, aren't they?"
"Apparently not. It begins to look as if there's a little dissension in the ranks on the other side."
"That' s always helpful."
"I'd like to know a bit more before I start gloating, though."
It was midafternoon before the last fanatic resistance collapsed in the southeastern quarter of Rheon and the demoralized prisoners were herded through the streets of the burning town to join the others in the town square.
Garion and General Brendig stood on the second floor balcony of the house where they had taken Harakan, talking quietly with the small, black-gowned Queen of Drasnia. "What will you do with them now, your Majesty?" General Brendig asked her, looking down at the frightened prisoners in the square.
"I'm going to tell them the truth and let them go, Brendig."
"Let them go?"
"Of course."
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you."
"They're going to be just a little upset when I tell them that they've been duped into betraying Aloria by a Mallorean Grolim."
"I don't think they'll believe you."
"Enough of them will," she replied placidly, adjusting the collar of her black dress. "I'll manage to convince at least some of them of the truth, and they'll spread the word. Once it becomes general knowledge that the cult fell under the domination of this Grolim Harakan, it's going to be more difficult for them to gain new converts, don't you think?"
Brendig considered that. "I suppose you're right," he admitted. "But will you punish the ones who won't listen?"
"That would be tyranny, General, and one should always try to avoid the appearance of tyranny -particularly when it's unnecessary. Once word of this gets around, I think that anyone who starts babbling about the divine mission of Aloria to subjugate the southern kingdoms is going to be greeted with a barrage of stones."
"All right, then, what are you going to do about General Haldar?" he asked seriously. "You're not just going to lethim go, too, are you?"
"Haldar's quite another matter," she replied. "He's a traitor, and that sort of thing ought to be discouraged."
"When he finds out what happened here, he'll probably try to run."
"Appearances can be deceiving, General Brendig," she told him with a chill smile. "I may look like a helpless woman, but I have a very long arm. Haldar can't run far enough or fast enough to escape me. And when my people catch him, he'll be brought back to Boktor in chains to stand trial. I think the outcome of that trial will be fairly predictable."
"Would you excuse me?" Garion asked politely. "I need to go talk with my grandfather."
"Of course, Garion," Queen Porenn said with a warm little smile.
He went back downstairs and found Silk and Javelin still ransacking the chests and cabinets in the green-carpeted room. "Are you finding anything useful?" he asked.
"Well, quite a bit, actually." Javelin replied. "I expect that by the time we're finished, we'll have the name of every cult member in Aloria."
"It just proves something I've always said," Silk noted as he continued to read. "A man should never put anything down in writing."
"Have either of you any idea where I can find Belgarath?"
"You might try the kitchens at the back of the house," Silk replied. "He said something about being hungry. I think Beldin went with him."
The kitchen in Harakan's house had escaped the general ransacking by Yarblek's men, who appeared to be more interested in loot than food, and the two old sorcerers sat comfortably at a table near a low, arched window picking at the remains of a roasted chicken. "Ah, Garion, my boy," Belgarath said expansively. "Come in and join us."
"Do you suppose there's anything to drink around here?" Beldin asked, wiping his fingers on the front of his tunic.
"There should be," Belgarath replied. "It's a kitchen, after all. Why don't you look in that pantry?"
Beldin rose and crossed the kitchen floor toward the pantry.
Garion bent slightly to look out the low window at the houses burning one street over. "It's starting to snow again," he observed.
Belgarath grunted. "I think we'll want to get out of here as quickly as we can," he said. "I don't really want to spend the winter here."
Ah, ha!" Beldin said from the pantry. He emerged with a triumphant grin carrying a small wooden cask.
"You'd better taste it first," Belgarath told him. "It might be vinegar." Beldin set the cask on the floor and bashed in its top with his fist. Then he licked his fingers and smacked his lips. "No," he said, "it's definitely not vinegar." He rummaged through a nearby cupboard and produced three earthenware cups.
"Well, brother," Belgarath said, "what are your plans?"
Beldin dipped into the cask with one of the cups. "I think I'll see if I can track down Harakan. I'd like to finish him off before I go back to Mallorea. He's not the kind you want lurking in alleys behind you as you go by."
"You're going to Mallorea, then?" Belgarath tore a wing off the chicken lying on the table.
"That's possibly the only place where we can get any solid information about this Zandramas." Beldin belched.
"Javelin says that he thinks it's a Darshivan name," Garion told him.
Beldin grunted. "That could help a little. This time I'll start there. I couldn't get anything at all at Mal Zeth, and those half-wits in Karanda fell over in a dead faint every time I mentioned the name."
"Did you try Mal Yaska?" Belgarath asked him.
"Hardly. Urvon's got my description posted on every wall in that place. For some reason, he's afraid that someday I might show up and yank out several yards of his guts."
"I wonder why."
"I told him so, that's why."
"You'll be in Darshiva, then?"
"For the time being -at least, I will after I've got Harakan safely under the ground. If I find out anything about Zandramas, I'll get word to you." "Keep your eyes open for clear copies of the Mallorean Gospels and the Ashabine Oracles, too," Belgarath told him. " According to the Codex, I'm supposed to find clues in them."
" And what are you going to do?"
"I think we'll go on down to Nyissa and see if the Orb can pick up the trail of my great-grandson."
"The fact that some Rivan shepherd saw a Nyissan ship is a pretty slender lead, Belgarath."
"I know, but at the moment it's the only one we've got."
Garion absently pulled a few fragments off the picked-over chicken and put them in his mouth. He suddenly realized that he was ravenously hungry.
" Are you going to take Polgara with you?" Beldin asked.
"I don't think so. Garion and I are likely to be out of touch, and we'll need somebody here in the north to keep an eye on things. The Alorns are feeling muscular at the moment and they're going to need a firm hand to keep them out of mischief."
"That's a normal condition for Alorns. You realize that Polgara's not going to be happy when you tell her she has to stay behind, don't you?"
"I know," Belgarath replied with a gloomy look. "Maybe I'll just leave her a note. That worked pretty well last time."
"Just try to make sure she's not in the vicinity of anything breakable when she gets the note." Beldin laughed. "Like large cities and mountain ranges. I heard what happened when she got the last note you left."
The door opened, and Barak stuck his head into the kitchen. "Oh," he said. "There you are. There are a couple people out here who want to see you. Mandorallen found them on the outskirts of town -a very strange pair."
"How do you mean strange?" Garion asked.
"The man's as big as a house. He's got arms like tree trunks, but he can't talk. The girl's pretty enough, but she's blind."
Belgarath and Beldin exchanged a quick look. "How do you know she's blind?" Belgarath asked.
"She's got a cloth tied across her eyes." Barak shrugged. "I just assumed that was what it meant."
"I guess we'd better go talk to her." Beldin said, rising from his seat. "A seeress wouldn't be in this part of the world unless it was pretty important."
"A seeress?" Garion asked.
"One of those people from Kell," Belgarath explained. "They're always blindfolded, and their guides are always mutes. Let's go see what she has to say."
When they entered the large main room, they found the others curiously eyeing the two strangers. The blindfolded seeress was a slight girl in a white robe. She had dark blond hair, and a serene smile touched her lips. She stood quietly in the center of the room, patiently waiting. Beside her stood one of the largest men Garion had ever seen. He wore a kind of sleeveless kirtle of coarse, undyed cloth belted at the waist, and he carried no weapon except for a stout, polished staff. He towered above even Hettar, and his bare arms were awesomely muscled. In a curious way, he seemed almost to hover over his slender mistress, his eyes watchful and protective.
"Has she said who she is?" Belgarath quietly asked Polgara as they joined the others.
"No," she replied. "All that she says is that she has to speak with you and Garion."
"Her name is Cyradis," Errand said from nearby.
"Do you know her?" Garion asked him.
"We met once -in the Vale. She wanted to find out something about me, so she came there, and we talked."
"What did she want to find out?"
"She didn't say."
"Didn't you ask her?"
"I think that if she'd wanted me to know, she'd have told me."
"I would speak with thee, Ancient Belgarath," the seeress said then in a light, clear voice, "and with thee, also, Belgarion."
They drew closer.
"I am permitted a short time here to tell thee certain truths. First, know that your tasks are not yet completed. Necessity doth command yet one more meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark; and mark me well -this meeting shall be the last, for it is during this meeting that the final choice between the Light and the Dark shall be made."
"And where will this meeting take place, Cyradis?" Belgarath asked her, his face intent.
"In the presence of the Sardion -in the place which is no more."
"And where is that?"
"The path to that dread place lies in the mysteries, Ancient One. Thou must seek it there." She turned her face toward Garion, half-reaching out to him with one slender hand.
"Thy heart is sore, Belgarion," she said with a great sympathy in her voice, "for Zandramas, the Child of Dark, hath reft away thy son and even now doth flee with him toward the Sardion. It lies upon thee to bar the path of Zandramas to that stone -for the stars and the voices of the earth proclaim that the power of the Dark doth reside in the Sardion, even as the power of the Light doth reside in the Orb of Aldur. Should Zandramas reach the Dark Stone with the babe, the Dark shall triumph, and its triumph shall be eternal."
"Is my baby all right?" Ce'Nedra demanded, her face pale and a dreadful fear in her eyes.
"Thy child is safe and well, Ce'Nedra," Cyradis told her. "Zandramas will protect him from all harm -not out of love, but out of Necessity." The seeress' face grew still. "Thou must steel thy heart, however," she continued, "for should there be no other way to prevent Zandramas from reaching the Sardion with thine infant son, it falls to thee -or to thy husband -to slay the child."
"Slay?"
Ce'Nedra exclaimed,"Never!"
"Then the Dark shall prevail," Cyradis said simply. She turned back to Garion. "My time grows short," she said to him. "Heed what I say. Thy choice of companions to aid thee in this task of thine must be guided by Necessity and not thine own preference. Shouldst thou choose awry, then shalt thou fail thy task, and Zandramas will defeat thee. Thy son shall be lost to thee forever, and the world as thou knowest it shall be no more." Garion's face was bleak. "Go ahead," he told her shortly. "Say the rest of what you have to say." Her suggestion that either he or Ce'Nedra could ever under any circumstances kill their own child had filled him with a sudden anger.
"Thou wilt leave this place in the company of Ancient Belgarath and his most revered daughter. Thou must also take with thee the Bearer of the Orb and thy wife."
"Absurd!" he burst out. "I'm not going to expose Ce'Nedra -or Errand- to that kind of danger."
"Then thou wilt surely fail."
He looked at her helplessly.
"Thou must have with thee as well the Guide and the Man with Two Lives -and one other whom I will reveal to thee. Thou wilt be joined at some later times by others -the Huntress, the Man Who Is No Man, the Empty One, and by the Woman Who Watches."
"That's fairly typical seer gibberish," Beldin muttered sourly.
"The words are not mine, gentle Beldin," she told him.
"These are the names as they are written in the stars -and in the prophecies. The incidental and worldly names which were given them at the time of their births are of no moment in the timeless realm of the two Necessities which contend with each other at the center of all that is or ever will be. Each of these companions hath a certain task, and all tasks must be completed 'ere the meeting which is to come, else the Prophecy which hath guided thy steps since time began will fail."
"And what is my task, Cyradis?" Polgara asked her coolly."
"It is as it hath ever been, Holy Polgara. Thou must guide, and nurture, and protect, for thou art the mother -even as Ancient Belgarath is the father." The faintest of smiles touched the blindfolded girl's lips. "Others will aid thee in thy quest from time to time, Belgarion," she continued, "but those I have named must be with thee at that final meeting."
"What about us?" Barak demanded, "Hettar and Mandorallen and Lelldorin and me?"
"The tasks of each of you are complete, most Dreadful Bear, and the responsibility for them hath descended to your sons. Shouldst thou or the Bowman or the Horse Lord or the Knight Protector seek to join with Belgarion in this quest, thy presence will cause him to fail."
"Ridiculous!" the big man sputtered. "I'm certainly not staying behind."
"That choice is not thine to make." She turned back to Garion, laying her hand on the massive arm of her mute protector. "This is Toth," she said, slumping as if a great weariness were about to overcome her. "He hath guided my faltering steps since the day that other sight came upon me and I bound up mine eyes that I might better see. Though it doth rend my soul, he and I must now part for a little while. I have instructed him to aid thee in thy search. In the stars, he is called the Silent Man, and it is his destiny to be one of thy companions." She began to tremble as if in exhaustion. "One last word for thee, Belgarion," she said in a quavering voice. "Thy quest will be fraught with great peril, and one of thy companions shall lose his life in the course of it. Prepare thine heart therefore, for when this mischance occurs, thou must not falter, but must press on to the completion of the task which hath been laid upon thee."
"Who?" he said quickly. "Which one of them is going to die?"
"That hath not been revealed to me," she said. And then with an obvious effort, she straightened. "Remember me," she said, "for we shall meet anon." With that she vanished.
"Where did she go?" General Brendig exclaimed.
"She was never really here," Errand replied.
"It was a projection, Brendig," Belgarath said. "But the man -Toth- is solid. Now how did they work that? Do you know, Errand?"
Errand shrugged. "I can't tell, Belgarath. But it took the combined power of all the Seers at Kell."
"What absolute nonsense!" Barak burst out angrily, pounding one huge fist on the table. "Nothing in this world could make me stay behind!" "Mandorallen, Hettar, and Lelldorin vehemently nodded their agreement.
Garion looked at Polgara. "Could she possibly have been lying?" he asked.
"Cyradis? No. A seeress isn't capable of lying. She may have concealed a few things, but she could never have lied. What she told us was what she saw in the stars."
"How can she see the stars with that blindfold over her eyes?" Lelldorin objected.
Polgara spread her hands. "I don't know. The seers perceive things in ways we don't entirely understand."
"Maybe she read them wrong," Hettar suggested.
"The Seers at Kell are usually right," Beldin growled, "so I wouldn't necessarily want to bet my life on that."
"That brings us right to the point," Garion said. "I'm going to have to go alone."
"Alone?"Ce'Nedra gasped.
"You heard what she said. Somebody who goes with me is going to get killed."
"That hath ever been a possibility, Garion," Mandorallen said soberly.
"But never a certainty."
"I won't let you go by yourself," Barak declared.
Garion felt a peculiar wrench, almost as if he had been rudely pushed aside. He was powerless as a voice which was not his came from his lips. "Will you people stop all this babbling?" it demanded. "You've been given your instructions. Now follow them."
They all stared at Garion in amazement. He spread his hands helplessly, trying to let them know that he had no control over the words coming from his mouth.
Belgarath blinked. "This must be important, if it can makeyou take a hand directly," he said to the awareness that had suddenly usurped Garion's voice.
"You don't have time to sit around debating the issue, Belgarath. You have a very long way to go and only so much time."
"Then what Cyradis said was true?" Polgara asked.
"As far as it went. She's still not taking sides, though."
"Then why did she come at all?" Beldin asked.
"She has her own task, and this was part of that. She must also give instructions to Zandramas."
"I don't suppose you could give us a hint or two about this place we're supposed to find?" Belgarath asked hopefully.
"Belgarath, don't do that. You know better. You have to stop at Prolgu on your way south."
"Prolgu?"
"Something that has to occur is going to happen there. Time is running out on you, Belgarath, so stop wasting it."
You keep talking about time. Could you be a bit more specific?"
"He's gone, Grandfather," Garion said, regaining control of his voice.
"He always does that," Belgarath complained. "Just when the conversation gets interesting, he leaves."
"You know why he does it, Belgarath," Beldin said.
Belgarath sighed. "Yes, I suppose I do." He turned to the others. "That's it, then," he said. "I guess we do exactly what Cyradis told us to do."
"You're surely not going to take Ce'Nedra with you," Porenn objected.
"Of course I'm going, Porenn," Ce'Nedra declared with a little toss of her head. "I'd have gone anyway -no matter I what that blind girl said."
"But she said that one of Garion's companions would die."
I'm not his companion, Porenn. I'm his wife."
There were actual tears in Barak's eyes. "Isn't there anything I can say to persuade you to change your mind?" he pleaded.
Garion felt the tears also welling up in his own eyes. Barak had always been one of the solid rocks in his life, and the thought of beginning this search without the big red-bearded man at his side left a great emptiness inside him. "I'm afraid we don't have any choice, Barak," he said very sadly. "If it were up to me-" He left it hanging, unable to go on.
"This hath rent mine heart, dearest Ce'Nedra," Mandorallen said, kneeling before the queen. "I am thy true knight, thy champion and protector, and yet I am forbidden to accompany thee on thy perilous quest."
Great, glistening tears suddenly streamed down Ce'Nedra's cheeks. She put her arms about the great knight's neck. "Dear, dear Mandorallen," she said brokenly, kissing his cheek.
"I've got some people working on a few things in Mallorea," Silk said to Yarblek. "I'll give you a letter to them so that they can keep you advised. Don't make any hasty decisions, but don't pass up any opportunities, either."
"I know how to run the business, Silk," Yarblek retorted.
"At least as well as you do."
"Of course you do, but you get excited. All I'm saying is that you should try to keep your head." The little man looked down rather sadly at his velvet doublet and all the jewels he was wearing. He sighed. "Oh, well, I've lived without all this before, I suppose." He turned to Durnik. "I guess we should start packing," he said.
Garion looked at him in perplexity.
"Weren't you listening, Garion?" the little man asked him. "Cyradis told you whom you were supposed to take along. Durnik's the Man with Two Lives, Errand is the Bearer of the Orb, and in case you've forgotten, I'm the Guide."
Garion's eyes widened.
"Naturally I'm going with you," Silk said with an impudent grin. "You'd probably get lost if I weren't along to show you the way."
.
Here ends Book I of The Malloreon.
Book II, King of the Murgos.
begins the quest for Garion's son across strange new lands to the place that is no more and a conflict of opposing destinies that will decide the fate of all mankind.