Sorceress of Darshiva

have to blow it down again when the time comes to leave."
    Garion gathered in his will, concentrated a moment, pointed at the empty opening, and said, "Door." The opening was immediately filled again.
    "Door?" Beldin said incredulously.
    "He does that sometimes," Belgarath said. "I've been trying to break him of the habit, but he backslides from time to time.''
    Senji's eyes were narrow as he looked at them. "Well, now," he said. "I seem to have some talented guests. I haven't met a real sorcerer in a long, long time."
    "How long?" Belgarath asked bluntly. "Oh, a dozen centuries or so, I guess. A Grolim was here giving lectures in the College of Comparative Theology. Stuffy sort of fellow, as I recall, but then, most Grolims :are."
    "All right, Senji," Belgarath said, "just how old are you?"
    "I think I was born during the fifteenth century," Senji replied. "What year is it now?"
    'Fifty-three seventy-nine," Garion told him.
    "Already?" Senji said mildly. "Where does the time go?" He counted it up on his fingers. "I guess that would make me about thirty-nine hundred or so."
    "When did you find out about the Will and the Word?" Belgarath pressed.
    "The what?"
    "Sorcery."
    "Is that what you call it?" Senji pondered a bit. "I suppose the term is sort of accurate, at that," he mused. "I like that. The Will and the Word. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
    'When did you make the discovery?" Belgarath repeated.
    "During the fifteenth century, obviously. Otherwise I'd died in the normal course of time, like everybody else. "
    "You didn't have any instruction?"
    "Who was around in the fifteenth century to instruct me? I just stumbled over it."
    Belgarath and Beldin looked at each other. Then Belgarath sighed and covered his eyes with one hand.
    "It happens once in a while," Beldin said. "Some people just fall into it."
    "I know, but it's so discouraging. Look at all the centuries our Master took instructing us, and this fellow just picks it up on his own." He looked back at Senji. "Why don't you tell us about it?" he suggested. "Try not to leave too much out."
    "Do we really have time, Grandfather?" Garion asked.
    "We have to make time," Beldin told him. "It was one of our Master's final commandments. Any time we come across somebody who's picked up the secret spontaneously, we're supposed to investigate. Not even the Gods know how it happens."
    Senji slid down from the table and limped over to an overflowing bookcase. He rummaged around for a moment and finally selected a book that looked much the worse for wear. "Sorry about the shape it's in," he apologized. "It's been blown up a few times." He limped back to the table and opened the book. "I wrote this during the twenty-third century," he said. "I noticed that I was starting to get a little absentminded, so I wanted to get it all down while it was still fresh in my memory.''
    "Makes sense," Beldin said. "My grim-faced friend over there has been suffering from some shocking lapses of memory lately—of course, that's to be expected from somebody who's nineteen thousand years old."
    "Do you mind?" Belgarath said acidly.
    "You mean it's been longer?"
    "Shut up, Beldin."
    "Here we are," Senji said. Then he began to read aloud. " 'For the next fourteen hundred years the Melcene Empire prospered, far removed from the theological and political squabbles of the western part of the continent. Melcene culture was secular, civilized, and highly educated. Slavery was unknown, and trade with the Angaraks and their subject peoples in Karanda and Dalasia was extremely profitable. The old imperial capital at Melcena became a major center of learning.' "
    "Excuse me," Belgarath said, "but isn't that taken directly from Emperors of Melcena and Mallorea?"
    "Naturally," Senji replied without any embarrassment. "Plagiarism is the first rule of scholarship. Please don't interrupt."
    "Sorry," Belgarath said.
    " 'Unfortunately,' " Senji read on, " 'some of the thrust of Melcene scholarship turned toward the arcane. Their major field of concentration lay in the field of alchemy.' " He looked at Belgarath. "This is where it gets original," he said. He cleared his throat. " 'It was a Melcene alchemist, "Senji the clubfooted, who inadvertently utilized sorcery during the course of one of his experiments.' "
    "You speak of yourself in the third person?" Beldin asked.
    "It was a twenty-third-century affectation," Senji replied. "Autobiography was considered to be in terribly bad taste—immodest,