David Eddings - Belgariad 5 Enchanter's End Game

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The Belgariad: Enchanter's End GameENCHANTER'S END GAME

And finally,

for Leigh, my beloved wife,

whose hand and thought have touched every page,

and who has joined me in this making - even as she joins me in all that

I do.

PROLOGUE

Being an account of beginnings-and endings

Excerpts from The Book of Torak~

HEAR ME, YE Angaraks, for I am Torak, Lord of Lords and King of Kings. Bow

before my Name and worship me with prayers and with sacrifices, for I am your

God and I have dominion over all the realms of the Angaraks. And great shall be

my wrath if ye displease me.

I was, before the world was made. I shall be, after the mountains crumble into

sand, the seas dwindle to stagnant pools, and the world shrivels and is no more.

For I was before time and shall be after.

From the timeless reaches of Infinity, I gazed upon the future. And I beheld

that there were two Destinies and that they must rush toward each other from the

endless corridors of Eternity. Each Destiny was Absolute, and in that final

meeting, all that was divided should be made one. In that instant, all that was,

all that is, and all that was yet to be should be gathered into one Purpose.

#Editor's Note: This version, said to be from the dread Book of Torak, is one of

several circulated among the Nadraks. Since only the high Grolims were permitted

official copies of the work, it is impossible to establish that this version is

authentic, though internal evidence suggests that much of it may be. A true copy

of the complete Book of Torak is believed to be in the library of King Anheg of

Cherek, but this was not available for comparison.

And because of my Vision, I led my six brothers to join hands to make all that

is, in fulfillment of the needs of the Destinies. Thus we set the moon and the

sun in their courses and we brought forth this world. We covered the world with

forests and grasses and made beasts, fowls, and fishes to fill the lands and

skies and waters which we had made.

But our Father took no joy in this creation which I had caused to be. He turned

his face from our labor to contemplate the Absolute. I went alone into the high

places of Korim, which are no more, and I cried out to him to accept what I had

made. But he rejected the work I had caused to be and turned from me. Then I

hardened my heart against him and went down from that place, fatherless

evermore.

Once more I counseled my brothers, and we joined our hands and brought forth man

to be the instrument of our will. We created man as many peoples. And to each

people, we gave a choice to select among us the one who should be their God. And

the peoples chose from us, save only that no people chose Aldur, who was ever

contrary and discontented that we would not grant him dominion. Then Aldur

withdrew himself from among us and sought to entice our servants away from us

with enchantments. But few were they who accepted him.

The peoples who were mine called themselves the Angaraks. I was well pleased

with them and I led them to the high places of Korim, which are no more, and to

them I revealed the nature of the Purpose for which I had caused the world to

be.

Then they worshipped me with prayers and offered burnt offerings unto me. And I

blessed them, and they prospered and grew numerous. In their gratitude they

raised up an altar to me and there made sacrifice to me of their fairest maidens

and a portion of their bravest youths. And I was well pleased with them and

again I blessed them, so that they prospered above all other men and multiplied

exceedingly.

Now the heart of Aldur was filled with envy for the worship that was given to

me, and he was driven with despite for me. Then did he conspire against me

within the secret places of his soul, and he took up a stone and breathed life

into it, that it might thwart my Purpose. And in that stone he sought to gain

dominion over me. Thus Cthrag Yaska came to be. And there was eternal enmity

sealed within Cthrag Yaska against me. And Aldur sat apart with those whom he

called his disciples and plotted how the stone should give him dominion.

I saw that the accursed stone had divided Aldur from me and from his other

brothers. And I went to Aldur and remonstrated with him, begging that he lift

the wicked enchantment from the stone and take back the life he had breathed

into it. This I did that Aldur might no longer be divided from his brothers.

Yea, I did even weep and abase myself before him.

But already the evil stone had gained possession over the soul of Aldur, and he

had hardened his heart against me. And I saw then that the stone which Aldur had

created would forever hold my brother in thralldom. And he spoke slightingly to

me and would have driven me forth.

Then for the love I bore him and to save him from the evil course which my

Vision revealed, I struck my brother Aldur down and took from him the accursed

rock. And I bore Cthrag Yaska away to bend my will upon it and to still the

malice within it and quell the wickedness for which it was created. So it was

that I took the burden of the thing which Aldur had created upon myself.

Aldur was wroth with me. He went to our brothers and spoke to them falsely

against me. And each of them came to me and spoke slightingly to me, commanding

that I return to Aldur that which had twisted his soul and which I had taken to

free him from the enchantment of it. But I resisted.

Then they girded for war. The sky was blackened with the smoke of their forges

as their peoples beat out weapons of iron to spill the blood of my Angaraks upon

the ground. When the year turned, their hosts marched forth and onto the lands

of the Angaraks. And my brothers loomed tall in the forefront of the hosts.

Now was I greatly loath to lift my hand against them. Yet I could not permit

that they should despoil the lands of my people or loose the blood of those who

worshipped me. And I knew that from such war between my brothers and me could

come only evil. In that struggle, the Destinies I had seen might be sent against

each other before it was time, and the universe be shaken apart in that meeting.

And so I chose that which I feared, but which was less evil than the danger I

foresaw. I took up the accursed Cthrag Yaska and raised it against the earth

itself. And in me lay the Purpose of one Destiny, while the Purpose of the other

was affixed within the stone Aldur had created. The weight of all that was or

will be was upon us, and the earth could not bear our weight. Then did her

mantle rend asunder before me, and the sea rushed in to drown the dry land. Thus

were the peoples separated one from the other, that they might not come upon

each other and their blood be spilled.

But such was the malice which Aldur had wrought within the stone that it smote

me with fire as I raised it to divide the world and prevent evil bloodshed. Even

as I spoke the commands unto it, it burst into dreadful fire and smote me. The

hand with which I held it was consumed and the eye with which I beheld it was

blinded. One half of my face was marred by its burning. And I, who had been the

fairest among my brothers, was now abhorrent to the eyes of all, and I must

cover my face with a living mask of steel, lest they shun me.

An agony filled me from the evil that was done me, and pain lived within me,

which could never be quenched until the foul stone could be freed of its evil

and could repent of its malice.

But the dark sea stood between my people and those who would come against them,

and my enemies fled in terror of that which I had done. Yea, even my brothers

fled from the world which we had made, for they dared no longer come against me.

Yet still did they conspire with their followers in spirit form.

Then I bore my people away to the wastelands of Mallorea and there caused them

to build a mighty city on a sheltered place. They named it Cthol Mishrak, as a

remembrance of the suffering I had undergone for them. And I concealed their

city with a cloud that should ever be above it.

Then I had a cask of iron forged, and in it I bound Cthrag Yaska, that the evil

stone should never again be free to unleash its power to destroy flesh. For a

thousand years and still another thousand years I labored, contending with the

stone that I might release the curse of malice which Aldur had laid upon it.

Great were the enchantments and words of power which I cast at the obdurate

stone, but still its evil fire burned when I came near to it, and I felt its

curse lying ever upon the world.

Then Belar, youngest and most rash of my brothers, conspired against me with

Aldur, who still bore hatred and jealousy within his soul toward me. And Belar

spoke in spirit to his uncouth people, the Alorns, and set them against me. The

spirit of Aldur sent Belgarath, the disciple in whom he had most wholly

instilled his despite, to join with them. And the foul counsel of Belgarath

prevailed upon Cherek, chief of the Alorns, and upon his three sons.

By evil sorcery, they passed the barrier of the sea I had caused to be and they

came like thieves in the night to the city of Cthol Mishrak. By stealth and low

cunning, they crept through my tower of iron and made their way to the chest

that held the evil stone.

The youngest son of Cherek, whom men called Riva Iron-grip, had been so woven

about with spells and enchantments that he could take up the accursed stone and

not perish. And they fled with it to the west.

With the warriors of my people I pursued them, that the curse of Cthrag Yaska

not again be loosed upon the land. But the one called Riva raised the stone and

loosed its evil fire upon my people. Thus the thieves escaped, bearing the evil

of the stone with them into their lands of the west.

Then I pulled down the mighty city of Cthol Mishrak, that my people must flee

from its ruins. And I divided the Angaraks into tribes. The Nadraks I set in the

north to guard the ways in which the thieves had come. The Thulls, broad of back

for the bearing of burdens, I set in the middle lands. The Murgos, fiercest of

my people, I sent to the south. And the most numerous I kept with me in

Mallorea, to serve me and multiply against a day when I should have need of an

army against the west.

Above all these peoples I set the Grolims and instructed them in enchantments

and wizardry, that they be a priesthood to me and watch over the zeal of all

others. And them I instructed to keep my altars burning and to be unceasing in

their sacrifices to me.

Belgarath, in his wickedness, had sent Riva with the accursed stone to rule an

island in the Sea of Winds. And there Belar caused two stars to fall to earth.

From these, Riva forged a sword and set Cthrag Yaska into its pommel.

And when Riva gripped that sword, the universe shuddered about me, and I cried

out, for my Vision had opened to me, revealing much that had been hidden before.

I saw that Belgarath's sorcerous daughter should in time be my bride, and I

rejoiced. But I also saw that a Child of Light would descend from Riva's loins,

and he would be an instrument of that Destiny which opposed that other Destiny

which gave me my Purpose. Then would come a day when I must wake from some long

sleep to face the sword of the Child of Light. And upon that day, the two

Destinies would clash, with only one victor alive and one Destiny thenceforth.

But which was not revealed.

Long I pondered this Vision, but no more was revealed. And a thousand years

passed, and even more.

Then I called to me Zedar, a wise and just man who had fled from the malice of

Aldur's teachings and had come unto me with an offer of service. And I sent him

to the court of the Serpent People who dwelt among swamps in the west. Their God

was Issa, but he was ever lazy and he slept, leaving the people who called

themselves Ny-Issans to the sole rule of their queen. And to her Zedar did make

certain offers, which were pleasing to her. And she sent her assassins as

emissaries to the court of Riva's descendants. There did they slay all of that

line, save only one child who chose to drown himself in the sea.

Thus did the Vision err, for what Child of Light can be born when none remain to

bear him?

And thus have I assured that my Purpose shall be served and that the evil of

Aldur and his brothers shall not destroy the world which I caused to be created.

The Kingdoms of the West which have harkened unto the counsel and beguilements

of wicked Gods and evil sorcerers will be brought unto the dust. And I will

harry those who sought to deny me and confound me and multiply their suffering.

And they shall be brought low and they shall fall before me, offering themselves

as a sacrifice upon my altars.

And the time shall come when I have Lordship and dominion over all the earth,

and all peoples shall be mine.

Hear me, ye peoples, and fear me. Bow down before me and worship me. For I am

Torak, forever King of Kings, Lord of Lords, and God alone to this world which I

have caused to be.

Part One

GAR OG NADRAK

Chapter One

THERE WAS, GARION decided, something definitely mournful about the sound of mule

bells. The mule was not a particularly loveable animal to begin with, and there

was a subtle difference to his gait that imparted a lugubrious note to a bell

hung about his neck. The mules were the property of a Drasnian merchant named

Mulger, a lanky, hard-eyed man in a green doublet, who - for a price - had

allowed Garion, Silk, and Belgarath to accompany him on his trek into Gar og

Nadrak. Mulger's mules were laden with trade goods, and Mulger himself seemed to

carry a burden of preconceptions and prejudices almost as heavy as a fully

loaded mule pack. Silk and the worthy merchant had disliked each other at first

sight, and Silk amused himself by baiting his countryman as they rode eastward

across the rolling moors toward the jagged peaks that marked the boundary

between Drasnia and the land of the Nadraks. Their discussions, hovering just on

the verge of wrangling, grated on Garion's nerves almost as much as the tiresome

clanging of the bells on Mulger's mules.

Garion's edginess at this particular time came from a very specific source. He

was afraid. There was no point in trying to conceal that fact from himself. The

cryptic words of the Mrin Codex had been explained to him in precise detail. He

was riding toward a meeting that had been ordained since the beginning of time,

and there was absolutely no way he could avoid it. The meeting was the end

result of not one, but two distinct Prophecies, and even if he could persuade

one of them that there had been a mistake someplace, the other would drive him

to the confrontation without mercy or the slightest consideration for his

personal feelings.

"I think you're missing the point, Ambar," Mulger was saying to Silk with that

kind of acid precision some men use when talking to someone they truly despise.

"My patriotism or lack of it has nothing to do with the matter. The well-being

of Drasnia depends on trade, and if you people in the Foreign Service keep

hiding your activities by posing as merchants, it won't be long before an honest

Drasnian isn't welcome anywhere." Mulger, with that instinct that seemed inborn

in all Drasnians, had instantly recognized the fact that Silk was not what he

pretended to be.

"Oh, come now, Mulger," Silk replied with an airy condescension, "don't be so

naive. Every kingdom in the world conceals its intelligence activities in

exactly the same way. The Tolnedrans do it; the Murgos do it; even the Thulls do

it. What do you want me to do - walk around with a sign on my chest reading

'spy'?"

"Frankly, Ambar, I don't care what you do," Mulger retorted, his lean face

hardening. "All I can say is that I'm getting very tired of being watched

everyplace I go, just because you people can't be trusted."

Silk shrugged with an impudent grin. "It's the way the world is, Mulger. You

might as well get used to it, because it's not going to change."

Mulger glared at the rat-faced little man helplessly, then turned abruptly and

rode back to keep company with his mules.

"Aren't you pushing it a little?" Belgarath suggested, lifting his head from the

apparent doze in which he usually rode. "If you irritate him enough, he'll

denounce you to the border guards, and we'll never get into Gar og Nadrak."

"Mulger's not going to say a word, old friend," Silk assured him. "If he does,

he'll be held for investigation, too, and there's not a merchant alive who

doesn't have a few things concealed in his packs that aren't supposed to be

there."

"Why don't you just leave him alone?" Belgarath asked.

"It gives me something to do," Silk replied with a shrug. "Otherwise I'd have to

look at the scenery, and eastern Drasnia bores me."

Belgarath grunted sourly, pulled his gray hood up over his head, and settled

back into his nap.

Garion returned to his melancholy thoughts. The gorse bushes which covered the

rolling moors had a depressing gray-green color to them, and the North Caravan

Route wound like a dusty white scar across them. The sky had been overcast for

nearly two weeks, though there was no hint of moisture in the clouds. They

plodded along through a dreary, shadowless world toward the stark mountains

looming on the horizon ahead.

It was the unfairness of it all that upset Garion the most. He had never asked

for any of this. He did not want to be a sorcerer. He did not want to be the

Rivan King. He was not even sure that he really wanted to marry Princess

Ce'Nedra - although he was of two minds about that. The little Imperial Princess

could be - usually when she wanted something - absolutely adorable. Most of the

time, however, she did not want anything, and her true nature emerged. If he had

consciously sought any of this, he could have accepted the duty which lay on him

with a certain amount of resignation. He had been given no choice in the matter,

though, and he found himself wanting to demand of the uncaring sky, "Why me?"

He rode on beside his dozing grandfather with only the murmuring song of the Orb

of Aldur for company, and even that was a source of irritation. The Orb, which

stood on the pommel of the great sword strapped to his back, sang to him

endlessly with a kind of silly enthusiasm. It might be all ver well for the Orb

to exult about the meeting with Torak, but it was Garion who was going to have

to face the Dragon-God of Angarak, and it was Garion who was going to have to do

all the bleeding. He felt that the unrelieved cheerfulness of the Orb was - all

things considered - in very poor taste, to say the least.

The border between Drasnia and Gar og Nadrak straddled the North Caravan Route

in a narrow, rocky gap where two garrisons, one Drasnian and one Nadrak, faced

each other across a simple gate that consisted of a single, horizontal pole. By

itself, the pole was an insubstantial barrier. Symbolically, however, it was

more intimidating than the gates of Vo Mimbre or Tol Honeth. On one side of the

gate stood the West; on the other, the East. With a single step, one could move

from one world into a totally different one, and Garion wished with all his

being that he did not have to take that step.

As Silk had predicted, Mulger said nothing about his suspicions to either the

Drasnian pikemen or the leather-clad Nadrak soldiers at the border, and they

passed without incident into the mountains of Gar og Nadrak. Once it passed the

border, the caravan route climbed steeply up a narrow gorge beside a swiftly

tumbling mountain stream. The rock walls of the gorge were sheer, black, and

oppressive. The sky overhead narrowed to a dirty gray ribbon, and the clanging

mule bells echoed back from the rocks to accompany the rush and pounding gurgle

of the stream.

Belgarath awoke and looked around, his eyes alert. He gave Silk a quick,

sidelong glance that cautioned the little man to keep his mouth shut, then

cleared his throat. "We want to thank you, worthy Mulger, and to wish you good

luck in your dealings here."

Mulger looked at the old sorcerer sharply, his eyes questioning. "We'll be

leaving you at the head of this gorge," Belgarath continued smoothly, his face

bland. "Our business is off that way." He gestured rather vaguely.

Mulger grunted. "I don't want to know anything about it," he declared.

"You don't, really," Belgarath assured him. "And please don't take Ambar's

remarks too seriously. He has a comic turn of mind and he says things he doesn't

always mean, because he enjoys irritating people. Once you get to know him, he's

not quite so bad."

Mulger gave Silk a long, hard look and let it pass without comment. "Good luck

in whatever it is you're doing," he said grudgingly, forced to say it more out

of courtesy than out of any genuine good feeling. "You and the young man weren't

bad traveling companions."

"We are in your debt, worthy Mulger," Silk added with mocking extravagance.

"Your hospitality has been exquisite."

Mulger looked directly at Silk again. "I don't really like you, Ambar," he said

bluntly. "Why don't we just let it go at that?"

"I'm crushed." Silk grinned at him.

"Let it lie," Belgarath growled.

"I made every effort to win him over," Silk protested.

Belgarath turned his back on him.

"I really did." Silk appealed to Garion, his eyes brimming with mock sincerity.

"I don't believe you either," Garion told him.

Silk sighed. "Nobody understands me," he complained. Then he laughed and rode on

up the gorge, whistling happily to himself.

At the head of the gorge, they left Mulger and struck off to the left of the

caravan route through a jumble of rock and stunted trees. At the crest of a

stony ridge, they stopped to watch the slow progress of the mules until they

were out of sight.

"Where are we headed?" Silk asked, squinting up at the clouds scudding past

overhead. "I thought we were going to Yar Gurak."

"We are," Belgarath replied, scratching at his beard, "but we'll circle around

and come at the town from the other side. Mulger's opinions make traveling with

him just a bit chancy. He might let something slip at the wrong time. Besides,

Garion and I have something to take care of before we get there." The old man

looked around. "Over there ought to do," he said, pointing at a shallow green

dale, concealed on the far side of the ridge. He led them down into the dale and

dismounted.

Silk, leading their single packhorse, pulled up beside a small pool of spring

water and tied the horses to a dead snag standing at its edge.

"What is it that we have to do, Grandfather?" Garion asked, sliding out of his

saddle.

"That sword of yours is a trifle obvious," the old man told him. "Unless we want

to spend the whole trip answering questions, we're going to have to do something

about it."

"Are you going to make it invisible?" Silk asked hopefully.

"In a manner of speaking," Belgarath answered. "Open your mind to the Orb,

Garion. Just let it talk to you."

Garion frowned. "I don't understand."

"Just relax. The Orb will do the rest. It's very excited about you, so don't pay

too much attention to it if it starts making suggestions. It has a severely

limited understanding of the real world. Just relax and let your mind sort of

drift. I've got to talk to it, and I can only do that through you. It won't

listen to anybody else."

Garion leaned back against a tree; in a moment he found his mind filled with all

manner of peculiar images. The world he perceived in that imagining was tinged

over with a faint blue haze, and everything seemed angular, as if constructed

out of the flat planes and sharp edges of a crystal. He caught a vivid picture

of himself, flaming sword in hand, riding at great speed with whole hordes of

faceless men fleeing out of his path. Belgarath's voice sounded sharply in his

mind then. "Stop that." The words, he realized, were not directed at him, but

instead at the Orb itself. Then the old man's voice dropped to a murmur,

instructing, explaining something. The responses of that other, crystalline

awareness seemed a trifle petulant; but eventually there seemed to be an

agreement of some kind, and then Garion's mind cleared.

Belgarath was shaking his head with a rueful expression. "It's almost like

talking to a child sometimes," he said. "It has no conception of numbers, and it

can't even begin to comprehend the meaning of the word danger."

"It's still there," Silk noted, sounding a bit disappointed. "I can still see

the sword."

"That's because you know it's there," Belgarath told him. "Other people will

overlook it."

"How can you overlook something that big?" Silk objected.

"It's very complicated," Belgarath replied. "The Orb is simply going to

encourage people not to see it - or the sword. If they look very closely, they

might realize that Garion's carrying something on his back, but they won't be

curious enough about it to try to find out what it is. As a matter of fact,

quite a few people won't even notice Garion himself."

"Are you trying to say that Garion's invisible?"

"No. He's just sort of unremarkable for the time being. Let's move on. Night

comes on quickly up in these mountains."

Yar Gurak was perhaps the ugliest town Garion had ever seen. It was strung out

on either side of a roiling yellow creek, and muddy, unpaved streets ran up the

steep slopes of the cut the stream had gouged out of the hills. The sides of the

cut beyond the town had been stripped of all vegetation. There were shafts

running back into the hillsides, and great, rooted-out excavations. There were

springs among the diggings, and they trickled muddy water down the slopes to

pollute the creek. The town had a slapdash quality about it, and all the

buildings seemed somewhat temporary. Construction was, for the most part, log

and uncut rock, and several of the houses had been finished off with canvas.

The streets teemed with lanky, dark-faced Nadraks, many of whom were obviously

drunk. A nasty brawl erupted out of a tavern door as they entered the town, and

they were forced to stop while perhaps two dozen Nadraks rolled about in the

mud, trying with a fair amount of success to incapacitate or even maim each

other.

The sun was going down as they found an inn at the end of a muddy street. It was

a large, square building with the main floor constructed of stone, a second

storey built of logs, and stables attached to the rear. They put up their

horses, took a room for the night, and then entered the barnlike common room in

search of supper. The benches in the common room were a bit unsteady, and the

tabletops were grease. smeared and littered with crumbs and spilled food. Oil

lamps hung smoking on chains, and the smell of cooking cabbage was overpowering.

A fair number of merchants from various parts of the world sat at their evening

meal in the room - wary-eyed men in tight little groups, with walls of suspicion

drawn around them.

Belgarath, Silk, and Garion sat down at an unoccupied table and ate the stew

brought to them in wooden bowls by a tipsy servingman in a greasy apron. When

they had finished, Silk glanced at the open doorway leading into the noisy

taproom and then looked inquiringly at Belgarath.

The old man shook his head. "Better not," he said. "Nadraks are a high-strung

people, and relations with the West are a little tense just now. There's no

point in asking for trouble."

Silk nodded his glum agreement and led the way up the stairs at the back of the

inn to the room they had taken for the night. Garion held up their guttering

candle and looked dubiously at the log-frame bunks standing against the walls of

the room. The bunks had rope springs and mattresses stuffed with straw; they

looked lumpy and not very clean. The noise from the taproom below was loud and

raucous.

"I don't think we're going to get much sleep tonight," he observed. "Mining

towns aren't like farm villages," Silk pointed out. "Farmers feel the need for

decorum - even when they're drunk. Miners tend on the whole to be somewhat

rowdier."

Belgarath shrugged. "They'll quiet down in a bit. Most of them will be

unconscious long before midnight." He turned to Silk. "As soon as the shops open

up in the morning, I want you to get us some different clothing - used,

preferably. If we look like gold hunters, nobody's going to pay very much

attention to us. Get a pick handle and a couple of rock hammers. We'll tie them

to the outside of the pack on our spare horse for show."

"I get the feeling you've done this before."

"From time to time. It's a useful disguise. Gold hunters are crazy to begin

with, so people aren't surprised if they show up in strange places." The old man

laughed shortly. "I even found gold once - a vein as thick as your arm."

Silk's face grew immediately intent. "Where?"

Belgarath shrugged. "Off that way somewhere," he replied with a vague gesture.

"I forget exactly."

"Belgarath," Silk objected with a note of anguish in his voice.

"Don't get sidetracked," Belgarath told him. "Let's get some sleep. I want to be

out of here as early as possible tomorrow morning."

The overcast which had lingered for weeks cleared off during the night; when

Garion awoke, the new-risen sun streamed golden through the dirty window.

Belgarath was seated at the rough table on the far side of the room, studying a

parchment map, and Silk had already left.

"I thought for a while that you were going to sleep past noon," the old man said

as Garion sat up and stretched.

"I had trouble getting to sleep last night," Garion replied. "It was a little

noisy downstairs."

"Nadraks are like that."

A sudden thought occurred to Garion. "What do you think Aunt Pol is doing just

now?" he asked.

"Sleeping, probably."

"Not this late."

"It's much earlier where she is."

"I don't follow that."

"Riva's fifteen hundred leagues west of here," Belgarath explained. "The sun

won't get that far for several hours yet."

Garion blinked. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted.

"I didn't think you had."

The door opened, and Silk came in, carrying several bundles and wearing an

outraged expression. He threw his bundles down and stamped to the window,

muttering curses under his breath.

"What's got you so worked up?" Belgarath asked mildly.

"Would you look at this?" Silk waved a piece of parchment at the old man.

"What's the problem?" Belgarath took the parchment and read it. "That whole

business was settled years ago," Silk declared in an irntated voice. "What are

these things doing, still being circulated?"

"The description is colorful," Belgarath noted.

"Did you see that?" Silk sounded mortally offended. He turned to Garion. "Do I

look like a weasel to you?"

"-an ill-favored, weasel-faced man," Belgarath read, "shifty-eyed and with a

long, pointed nose. A notorious cheat at dice."

"Do you mind?"

"What's this all about?" Garion asked.

"I had a slight misunderstanding with the authorities some years ago," Silk

explained deprecatingly. "Nothing all that serious, actually, but they're still

circulating that thing." He gestured angrily at the parchment Belgarath was

still reading with an amused expression. "They've even gone so far as to offer a

reward. " He considered for a moment. "I'll have to admit that the sum is

flattering, though," he added.

"Did you get the things I sent you after?" Belgarath asked.

"Of course."

"Let's change clothes, then, and leave before your unexpected celebrity attracts

a crowd."

The worn Nadrak clothing was made mostly of leather-snug black trousers,

tight-fitting vests, and short-sleeved linen tunics.

"I didn't bother with the boots," Silk said. "Nadrak boots are pretty

uncomfortable - probably since it hasn't occurred to them yet that there's a

difference between the right foot and the left." He settled a pointed felt cap

at a jaunty angle. "What do you think?" he asked, striking a pose.

"Doesn't look at all like a weasel, does he?" Belgarath asked Garion. Silk gave

him a disgusted look, but said nothing.

They went downstairs, led their horses out of the stables attached to the inn,

and mounted. Silk's expression remained sour as they rode out of Yar Gurak. When

they reached the top of a hill to the north of town, he slid off his horse,

picked up a rock, and threw it rather savagely at the buildings clustered below.

"Make you feel better?" Belgarath asked curiously.

Silk remounted with a disdainful sniff and led the way down the other side of

the hill.

Chapter two

THEY RODE FOR the next few days through a wilderness of stone and stunted trees.

The sun grew warmer each day, and the sky overhead was intensely blue as they

pressed deeper and deeper into the snowcapped mountains. There were trails of

sorts up here, winding, vagrant tracks meandering between the dazzling white

peaks and across the high, pale green meadows where wildflowers nodded in the

mountain breeze. The air was spiced with the resinous odor of evergreens, and

now and then they saw deer grazing or stopping to watch them with large,

startled eyes as they passed.

Belgarath moved confidently in a generally eastward course and he appeared to be

alert and watchful. There were no signs of the half doze in which he customarily

rode on more clearly defined roads, and he seemed somehow younger up here in the

mountains.

They encountered other travelers - leather-clad Nadraks for the most part -

although they did see a party of Drasnians laboring up a steep slope and, once,

a long way off, what appeared to be a Tolnedran. Their exchanges with these

others were brief and wary. The mountains of Gar og Nadrak were at best

sketchily policed, and it was necessary for every man who entered them to

provide for his own security.

The sole exception to this suspicious taciturnity was a garrulous old gold

hunter mounted on a donkey, who appeared out of the blue-tinged shadows under

the trees one morning. His tangled hair was white, and his clothing was

mismatched, appearing to consist mostly of castoffs he had found beside this

trail or that. His tanned, wrinkled face was weathered like a well-cured old

hide, and his blue eyes twinkled merrily. He joined them without any greeting or

hint of uncertainty as to his welcome and began talking immediately as if taking

up a conversation again that had only recently been interrupted.

There was a sort of comic turn to his voice and manner that Garion found

immediately engaging.

"Must be ten years or more since I've followed this path," he began, jouncing

along on his donkey as he fell in beside Garion. "I don't come down into this

part of the mountains very much any more. The streambeds down here have all been

worked over a hundred times at least. Which way are you bound?"

"I'm not really sure," Garion replied cautiously. "I've never been up here

before, so I'm just following along."

"You'd find better gravel if you struck out to the north," the man on the donkey

advised, "up near Morindland. Of course, you've got to be careful up there, but,

like they say, no risk, no profit." He squinted curiously at Garion. "You're not

a Nadrak, are you?"

"Sendar," Garion responded shortly.

"Never been to Sendaria," the old gold hunter mused. "Never been anyplace really

- except up here." He looked around at the whitetopped peaks and deep green

forests with a sort of abiding love. "Never really wanted to go anyplace else.

I've picked these mountains over from end to end for seventy years now and never

made much at it except for the pleasure of being here. Found a river bar one

time, though, that had so much red gold in it that it looked like it was

bleeding. Winter caught me up there, and I almost froze to death trying to come

out."

"Did you go back the next spring?" Garion couldn't help asking. "Meant to, but I

did a lot of drinking that winter - I had gold enough. Anyway, the drink sort of

addled my brains. When I set out the following year, I took along a few kegs for

company. That's always a mistake. The drink takes you harder when you get up

into the mountains, and you don't always pay attention to things the way you

should." He leaned back in his donkey saddle, scratching reflectively at his

stomach. "I went out onto the plains north of the mountains - up in Morindland.

Seems that I thought at the time that the going might be easier out on flat

ground. Well, to make it short, I ran across a band of Morindim and they took me

prisoner. I'd been up to my ears in an ale keg for a day or so, and I was far

gone when they took me. Lucky, I guess. Morindim are superstitious, and they

thought I was possessed. That's probably all that saved my life. They kept me

for five or six years, trying to puzzle out the meaning behind my ravings - once

I got sober and saw the situation, I took quite a bit of care to do a lot of

raving. Eventually they got tired of it and weren't so careful about watching

me, so I escaped. By then I'd sort of forgotten exactly where that river was. I

look for it now and then when I'm up that way." His speech seemed rambling, but

his old blue eyes were very penetrating. "That's a big sword you're carrying,

boy, Who do you plan to kill with it?"

The question came so fast that Garion did not even have time to be startled.

"Funny thing about that sword of yours," the shabby old man added shrewdly. "It

seems to be going out of its way to make itself inconspicuous." Then he turned

to Belgarath, who was looking at him with a level gaze. "You haven't hardly

changed at all," he noted.

"And you still talk too much," Belgarath replied.

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TheBelgariad:Enchanter'sEndGameENCHANTER'SENDGAMEAndfinally,forLeigh,mybelovedwife,whosehandandthoughthavetouchedeverypage,andwhohasjoinedmeinthismaking-evenasshejoinsmeinallthatIdo.PROLOGUEBeinganaccountofbeginnings-andendingsExcerptsfromTheBookofTorak~HEARME,YEAngaraks,forIamTorak,LordofLordsandKi...

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