Guardians of the West

Oracles of Ashaba."
    "I've got that one," Anheg told him. "the Ashaba thing. I picked it up about a dozen years ago."
    "I think I'd better go to Val Alorn and have a look at it."
    "This is hardly the time for side trips, Grandfather," Garion objected.
    "Garion, we know that something's happening that goes beyond an insurrection by a group of religious fanatics. That passage you found in the Mrin Codex was very specific. It instructed me to look into the mysteries, and I think that if I don't do exactly that, we're all likely to regret it." He turned to Anheg. "Where's your copy of the Ashabine Oracles?"
    "In the library -up on the top shelf. I couldn't make any sense out of it, so I stuck it up there. I always meant to get back to it one day." Then a thought occurred to him. "Oh, by the way, there' s a copy of the Mallorean Gospels in the monastery at Mar Terrin."
    Belgarath blinked.
    "That's one of the other books you wanted to see, wasn't it? The one by the Seers of Kell?"
    "How could you possibly know what's in the library at Mar Terrin?"
    "I heard about it a few years back. I have people who keep their eyes open for rare books. Anyway, I made the monks an offer for it -quite generous, I thought- but the negotiations fell through."
    "You're a positive sink of information, Anheg. Can you think of anything else?"
    "I can't help you with the Grolim Prophecies of Rak Cthol, I'm afraid. The only copy I know of was in Ctuchik's library, and that was probably buried when you blew Rak Cthol off its mountaintop. You could go dig for it, I suppose."
    "Thanks, Anheg," Belgarath said drily. "You have no idea how much I appreciate your help."
    "I can't believe that I'm hearing this," Ce'Nedra said accusingly to Belgarath. "Someone has stolen my baby -your great-grandson- and instead of trying to find him, you're planning to go off chasing obscure manuscripts."
    "I'm not abandoning the child, Ce'Nedra. I'm just looking for him in a different place, that's all." He looked at her with a great sympathy in his eyes. "You're still very young," he said, "and all you can see is the one reality that your baby has been taken from you. There are two kinds of reality, however. Garion is going to follow your child in this reality. I'm going to follow him in the other. We're all after the same thing and this way we cover all the possibilities."
    She stared at him for a moment, and then she suddenly covered her face with her hands and began to cry. Garion rose, went to her, and put her arms around her. "Ce'Nedra," he said soothingly, "Ce'Nedra, it's going to be All right."
    "Nothing will be All right," she sobbed brokenly. "I'm so afraid for my baby, Garion. Nothing will ever be all right again."
    Mandorallen rose to his feet, tears standing in his eyes. "As I am thy true knight and champion, dearest Ce'Nedra, I vow upon my life that the villain Ulfgar will never see another summer."
    "That sort of gets to the point," Hettar murmured. "Why don't we all go to Rheon and nail Ulfgar to a post someplace -with very long nails?" Anheg looked at Cho-Hag. "Your son has a remarkably firm grasp of the realities of this situation," he observed.
    "He's the delight of my twilight years," Cho-Hag said proudly.
    The argument with Ce'Nedra began immediately upon their return to the royal apartment. Garion tried reason first, then commands. Finally, he resorted to threats.
    "I don't care what you say, Garion, I am going to Rheon."
    You are not!"
    "I am so!"
    "I'll have you locked in the bedroom."
    "And as soon as you leave, I'll order someone to unlock the door -or I'll chop it down- and I'll be on the next boat out of the harbor."
    "Ce'Nedra, it's too dangerous."
    "So was Thull Mardu -and Cthol Mishrak- and I didn't flinch from either one. I'm going to Rheon, Garion -either with you or by myself. I'm going to get my baby back- even if I have to tear down the city walls with my bare hands."
    "Ce'Nedra, please."
    "No!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot. "I'm going, Garion, and nothing you can say or do is going to stop me!"
    Garion threw his arms in the air. "Women!" he said in a despairing tone.
    The fleet left at dawn the following morning, sailing out of the harbor into rough seas and the dirty scud and wrack of the tail-end of the storm.
    Garion stood on the aft deck of the Seabird beside Barak, whose thick hands firmly grasped the tiller. "I didn't think I was ever going to have to do this again," he said morosely.
    "Oh, sailing in rough weather isn't all