Queen of Sorcery

could I? I'm only a boy."
    "Don't lie to me, Belgarion," she demanded. "I know who you are. I know what you are. It has to be you. Belgarath himself could not blot out the sun. I warn you, Belgarion, what you have drunk today is death. Even now the poison in your veins is killing you."
    "Why did you do that to me?"
    "To keep you. You must have more or you will die. You must drink what only I can give you, and you must drink every day of your life. You're mine, Belgarion, mine!"
    Despairing shrieks came from just outside the door.
    The Serpent Queen looked up, startled, then she turned to the huge statue behind her, bowed down in a strange ceremonial way and began to weave her hands through the air in a series of intricate gestures. She started to pronounce an involved formula in a language Garion had never heard before, a language filled with guttural hissings and strange cadences.
    The heavy door exploded inward, blasted into splinters, and Aunt Pol stood in the shattered doorway, her white lock ablaze and her eyes dreadful. The great bear at her side roared, his teeth dripping blood and with tatters of flesh still hanging from his claws.
    "I've warned you, Salmissra." Aunt Pol spoke in a deadly voice.
    "Stop where you are, Polgara," the queen ordered. She did not turn around, and her fingers continued their sinuous weaving in the air. "The boy is dying," she said. "Nothing can save him if you attack me."
    Aunt Pol stopped. "What have you done?" she demanded.
    "Look at him," Salmissra said. "He has drunk athal and kaldiss. Even now their fire is in his veins. He will need more very soon." Her hands still moved in the air, and her face was fixed in extreme concentration. Her lips began moving again in that guttural hissing.
    "Is it true?" Aunt Pol's voice echoed in Garion's mind.
    "It seems to be, " the dry voice replied. "They made him drink things, and he seems different now. "
    Aunt Pol's eyes widened. "Who are you?"
    "I've always been here, Polgara. Didn't you know that?"
    "Did Garion know?"
    "He knows that I'm here. He doesn't know what it means."
    "We can talk about that later, " she decided. "Watch very closely. This is what you have to do. " A confused blur of images welled up in Garion's mind. "Do you understand?"
    "Of course. I'll show him how. "
    "Can't you do it?"
    "No, Polgara, " the dry voice said. "The power is his, not mine. Don't worry. He and I understand each other. "
    Garion felt strangely alone as the two voices spoke together in his mind.
    "Garion. " The dry voice spoke quietly. "I want you to think about your blood."
    "My blood?"
    "We're going to change it for a moment. "
    "Why?"
    "To burn away the poison they gave you. Now concentrate on your blood. "
    Garion did.
    "You want it to be like this. " An image of yellow came into Garion's mind. "Do you understand?"
    "Yes. "
    "Do it, then. Now. "
    Garion put his fingertips to his chest and willed his blood to change. He suddenly felt as if he were on fire. His heart began to pound, and a heavy sweat burst out all over his body.
    "A moment longer, " the voice said.
    Garion was dying. His altered blood seared through his veins, and he began to tremble violently. His heart hammered in his chest like a tripping sledge. His eyes went dark, and he began to topple slowly forward.
    "Now!" the voice demanded sharply. "Change it back. "
    Then it was over. Garion's heart stuttered and then faltered back to its normal pace. He was exhausted, but the fog in his brain was gone. "It's done, Polgara, " the other Garion said. "You can do what needs doing now."
    Aunt Pol had watched anxiously, but now her face became dreadfully stern. She walked across the polished floor toward the dais. "Salmissra," she said, "turn around and look at me."
    The queen's hands were raised above her head now, and the hissing words tumbled from her lips, rising finally to a hoarse shout.
    Then, far above them in the shadows near the ceiling, the eyes of the huge statue opened and began to glow a deep emerald fire. A polished jewel on Salmissra's crown began also to burn with the same glow.
    The statue moved. The sound it made was a kind of ponderous creaking, deafeningly loud. The solid rock from which the huge shape had been hewn bent and flexed as the statue took a step forward and then another.
    "Why-did-you-summon-me?" An enormous voice demanded through stiff, stony lips. The voice reverberated hollowly up from the massive chest.
    "Defend thy handmaiden, Great Issa," Salmissra cried,