Queen of Sorcery

pulled at him.
    "No!" Aunt Pol's stern voice commanded. "He'll kill you if you release him!"
    "I can't do it, " Garion said. "I'm going to stop it. " As once before, he began to gather his will, feeling it build in him like some vast tide of pity and compassion. He half reached toward Chamdar, focusing his thought on healing.
    "Garion!" Aunt Pol's voice rang. "It was Chamdar who killed your parents!"
    The thought forming in his mind froze.
    "Chamdar killed Geran and Ildera. He burned them alive just as he's burning now. Avenge them, Garion! Keep the fire on him!"
    All the rage and fury he had carried within him since Wolf had told him of the deaths of his parents flamed in his brain. The fire, which a moment before he had almost extinguished, was suddenly not enough. The hand he had begun to reach out in compassion stiffened. In terrible anger he raised it, palm out. A strange sensation tingled in that palm, and then his own hand burst into flames. There was no pain, not even a feeling of heat, as a bright blue fire burst from the mark on his hand and wreathed up through his fingers. The blue fire became brighter - so bright that he could not even look at it.
    Even in the extremity of his mortal agony, Chamdar the Grolim recoiled from that blazing hand. With a hoarse, despairing cry he tried to cover his blackened face, staggered back a few steps, and then, like a burning house, he collapsed in upon himself and sank back to earth.
    "It is done!" Aunt Pol's voice came again. "They are avenged!" And then her voice rang in the vaults of his mind with a soaring exultation. "Belgarion!" she sang. "My Belgarion!"
    Ashen-faced Kador, trembling in every limb, backed in horror from the still-burning heap that had been Chamdar the Grolim. "Sorcery!" he gasped.
    "Indeed," Aunt Pol said coolly. "I don't think you're ready for this kind of game yet, Kador."
    The frightened legionnaires were also backing away, their eyes bulging at what they had just seen.
    "I think the Emperor's going to take this whole affair rather seriously," Aunt Pol told them. "When he hears that you were going to kill his daughter, he'll probably take it personally."
    "It wasn't us," one of the soldiers said quickly. "It was Kador. We were just following orders."
    "He might accept that as an excuse," she said doubtfully. "If it were me, though, I'd take him some kind of gift to prove my loyalty - something appropriate to the circumstances." She looked significantly at Kador.
    Several of the legionnaires took her meaning, drew their swords and moved into position around the Grand Duke.
    "What are you doing?" Kador demanded of them.
    "I think you've lost more than a throne today, Kador," Aunt Pol said.
    "You can't do this," Kador told the legionnaires.
    One of the soldiers put the point of his sword against the Grand Duke's throat. "We're loyal to the Emperor, my Lord," he said grimly. "We're placing you under arrest for high treason, and if you give us any trouble, we'll settle for just delivering your head to Tol Honeth - if you take my meaning."
    One of the legion officers knelt respectfully before Ce'Nedra. "Your Imperial Highness," he said to her, "how may we serve you?"
    The princess, still pale and trembling, drew herself up. "Deliver this traitor to my father," she said in a ringing voice, "and tell him what happened here. Inform him that you have arrested the Grand Duke Kador at my command."
    "At once, your Highness," the officer said, springing to his feet. "Chain the prisoner!" he ordered sharply, then turned back to Ce'Nedra. "May we provide you an escort to your destination, your Highness?"
    "That won't be necessary, captain," she told him. "Just remove this traitor from my sight."
    "As your Highness wishes," the captain said with a deep bow. He gestured sharply, and the soldiers led Kador away.
    Garion was staring at the mark on his palm. There was no sign of the fire that had burned there.
    Durnik, released now from the grip of the soldiers, looked at Garion, his eyes wide. "I thought I knew you," he whispered. "Who are you, Garion, and how did you do this?"
    "Dear Durnik," Aunt Pol said fondly, touching his arm. "Still willing to believe only what you can see. Garion's the same boy he's always been."
    "You mean it was you?" Durnik looked at Chamdar's body and pulled his eyes quickly away.
    "Of course," she said. "You know Garion. He's the most ordinary boy in the world."
    But Garion knew differently. The Will had been his, and the Word had