Guardians of the West

three-fold quest will end. And this meeting will come to pass in a place which is no more, and there will the choice be made."
    Garion read it again, and then a third time, feeling an ominous chill as the words echoed and thundered through his consciousness. Finally he rose and went to the door of the candlelit, vaulted chamber. "I'll need something to write with," he told the priest standing just outside. " And send someone down to the river. Have him tell the captain of my ship to get things ready. Just as soon as I finish here, I have to leave for Kotu." The priest was staring wide-eyed at the incandescently glowing Orb in Garion's hand. "Don't just stand there, man, move!" Garion told him. "The whole world's hanging on this!" The priest blinked and then scurried away.
    The following day, Garion was in Kotu, and about a day and a half later, he reached Aldurford in northern Algaria. As luck had it, a herd of half-wild Algarian cattle was being driven across that wide, shallow place in the mighty river on their way to Muros, and Garion went immediately in search of the herdmaster.
    "I'm going to need two horses," he said, skipping the customary courtesies. "The best you have. I have to be in the Vale of Aldur before the week is out."
    The herd master, a fierce-looking Algar warrior in black leather, looked at him speculatively. "Good horses are expensive, your Majesty ," he ventured, his eyes coming alight.
    "That's beside the point. Please have them ready in a quarter of an hour -and throw some food in a saddlebag for me."
    "Doesn't your Majesty even want to discuss the price?" The herd master's voice betrayed his profound disappointment.
    "Not particularly," Garion told him. "Just add it all up, and I'll pay it."
    The herd master sighed. "Take them as a gift, your Majesty," he said. Then he looked mournfully at the Rivan King. "You do realize, of course, that you've absolutely ruined my whole afternoon."
    Garion gave him a tight, knowing grin. "If I had the time, good herd master, I'd haggle with you for the whole day -right down to the last penny- but I have urgent business in the south."
    The herd master shook his head sadly.
    "Don't take it so hard, my friend," Garion told him. "If you like, I'll curse your name to everyone I meet and tell them all how badly you cheated me."
    The herd master's eyes brightened. "That would be extremely kind of your Majesty," he said. He caught Garion's amused look. "One does have a certain reputation to maintain, after all. The horses will be ready whenever you are. I'll select them for you myself."
    Garion made good time as he galloped south. He kept his horses fresh and strong by changing mounts every two or three leagues. The long journey in quest of the Orb had taught him many ways to conserve the strength of a good horse, and he utilized them all. When a steep hill stood in his path, he slowed to a walk and made up the lost time on the long downhill slope on the other side. When he could, he went around rough terrain. He stopped for the night late and was on the move again at first light in the morning.
    Steadily he moved south through the knee-high sea of waving prairie grass lying lush and green under the warm spring sun. He avoided the man-made mountain of the Algarian Stronghold, knowing that King Cho-Hag and Queen Silar, and certainly Hettar and Adara, would insist that he stop over for a day or so. Regretfully, he also passed a league or so to the west of Poledra's cottage. He hoped that there would be time later to visit Aunt Pol, Durnik, and Errand.
    Right now he had to get to Belgarath with the passage of the Codex he had so carefully copied and which now rode in the inside pocket of his doublet.
    When at last he arrived at Belgarath's squat, round tower, his legs were so tired that they trembled under him as he swung down from his lathered horse. He went immediately to the large, flat-faced rock that was the door to the tower.
    "Grandfather!" he shouted at the windows above, "Grandfather, it's me!"
    There was no answer. The squat tower loomed silently up out of the tall grass, etched sharply against the sky. Garion had not even considered the possibility that the old man might not be here. "Grandfather!" he called again. There was still no answer. A red-winged blackbird swooped in, landed atop the tower, and peered curiously down at Garion. Then it began to preen its feathers.
    Almost sick with disappointment, Garion stared at the silent rock that always swung