Enchanter's End Game

slain."
    Shimmering and incandescent, the form of UL, father of the other Gods, moved across the rubble-strewn ground to stand over the silent body of Torak.
    "I tried to turn thee from this path, my son," he said softly, and a single tear coursed its way down his eternal cheek. Then he turned back to Aldur. "Take up the form of thy bother, my son, and place it upon some more suitable resting place. It grieves me to see him lie so low upon the earth."
    Aldur, joined by his brethren, took up the body of Torak and placed it upon a large block of stone lying amid the ancient ruins, and then, standing in a quiet gleaming circle about the bier, they mourned the passing of the God of Angarak.
    Unafraid as always, seemingly not even aware that the glowing figures which had descended from the sky were not human, Errand walked quite confidently to the shining form of UL. He reached out his small hand and tugged insistently at the God's robe.
    "Father," he said.
    UL looked down at the small face.
    "Father," Errand repeated, perhaps echoing Aldur, who had, in his use of that name, revealed at last the true identity of the God of Ulgo. "Father," the little boy said again. Then he turned and pointed at the silent form of Durnik. "Errand!" It was in some strange way more a command than a request.
    The face of UL became troubled. "It is not possible, child," he replied.
    "Father," the little boy insisted, "Errand."
    UL looked inquiringly at Garion, his eyes profoundly unsettled. "The child's request is serious," he said gravely, speaking not to Garion but to that other awareness, "and it places an obligation upon me - but it crosses the uncrossable boundary."
    "The boundary must remain intact," the dry voice replied through Garion's lips. "Thy sons are passionate, Holy UL, and having once crossed this line, they may be tempted to do so again, and perhaps in one such crossing they may change that which must not be changed. Let us not provide the instrumentality whereby Destiny must once more follow two divergent paths."
    UL sighed.
    "Wilt thou and thy sons, however, lend of your power to my instrument so that he may cross the boundary?"
    UL looked startled at that.
    "Thus will the boundary be protected, and thy obligation shall be met. It can happen in no other way."
    "Let it be as thou wilt," UL agreed. He turned then and a peculiar look passed between the father of the Gods and his eldest son, Aldur. Aldur, still bathed in blue light, turned from his sad contemplation of his dead brother toward Aunt Pol, who was still bowed over Durnik's body.
    "Be comforted, my daughter," he told her. "His sacrifice was for thee and for all mankind."
    "That is slight comfort, Master," she replied, her eyes full of tears. "This was the best of men."
    "All men die, my daughter, the best as well as the worst. In thy life thou halt seen this many times."
    "Yes, Master, but this is different."
    "In what way, beloved Polgara?" Aldur seemed to be pressing her for some reason.
    Aunt Pol bit her lip. "Because I loved him, Master," she replied finally.
    The faintest touch of a smile appeared on Aldur's lips. "Is that so difficult to say, my daughter?"
    She could not answer, but bowed again over Durnik's lifeless form.
    "Wouldst thou have us restore this man to thee, my daughter?" Aldur asked then.
    Her face came up sharply. "That isn't possible, Master," she said. "Please don't toy with my grief like this."
    "Let us however, consider that it may be possible," he told her. "Wouldst thou have us restore him?"
    "With all my heart, Master."
    "To what end? What task hast thou for this man that demands his restoration?"
    She bit her lip again. "To be my husband, Master," she blurted finally with a trace of defiance in her voice.
    "And was that also so very difficult to say? Art thou sure, however, that this love of throe derives not from thy grief, and that once this good man is restored, thy mind might not turn away from him? He is, thou must admit, most ordinary."
    "Durnik has never been ordinary," she flared with sudden heat. "He is the best and bravest man in the world."
    "I meant him no disrespect, Polgara, but no power loth infuse him. The force of the Will and the Word is not in him."
    "Is that so important, Master?"
    "Marriage must be a joining of equals, my daughter. How could this good, brave man be husband to thee, so long as thy power remains?"
    She looked at him helplessly.
    "Couldst thou, Polgara, limit thyself? Wouldst thou become his equal? With