Sorceress of Darshiva

Belgarath replied. "It was fairly bleak, but it appears that even he knew how bad things would get if Zandramas succeeds. He told Garion to stop her at all costs."
    "I was going to do that anyway," Garion said quietly. "I didn't need any suggestions from Torak."
    "What are we going to be up against in Peldane?" Belgarath asked Silk.
    "More of what we ran into in Voresebo and Rengel, I'd imagine."
    "What's the fastest way to get to Kell?" Durnik asked.
    "It's in the Protectorate of Likandia," Silk replied, "and the shortest way there is right straight across Peldane and Darshiva and then down through the mountains."
    "What about Gandahar?" Sadi asked. "We could avoid all that unpleasantness if we sailed south and went through there." Somehow Sadi looked peculiar in hose and a belted tunic. Once he had discarded his iridescent robe, he seemed more like an ordinary man and less like a eunuch. His scalp, however, was freshly shaved.
    Silk shook his head. "It's all jungle down in Gandahar, Sadi," he said. "You have to chop your way through."
    "Jungles aren't all that bad, Kheldar."
    "They are if you're in a hurry."
    "Could you send for those soldiers of yours?" Velvet asked.
    "It's possible, I suppose," Silk answered, "but I'm not sure they'd be all that much help. Vetter says that Darshiva's crawling with Grolims and Zandramas' troops, and Peldane's been in chaos for years. My troops are good, but not that good." He looked at Belgarath. "I'm afraid you're going to get more burrs in your fur, old friend."
    "Are we just going to ignore the trail, then," Garion asked, "and make straight for Kell?"
    Belgarath tugged at one earlobe. "I’ve got a suspicion that the trail is going to lead in the general direction of Kell anyway," he said. "Zandramas read the Ashabine Oracles, too, you know, and she knows that Kelt's the only place where she can get the information she needs."
    "Will Cyradis let her look at the Gospels?" Durnik asked.
    "Probably. Cyradis is still neutral and she's not likely to show any favoritism."
    Garion rose to his feet. "I think I'll go up on deck, Grandfather," he said. "I've got some thinking to do, and sea air helps to clear my head."
    The lights of Melcena twinkled low on the horizon behind em, and the moon laid a silvery path across the surface of the sea. The ship's captain stood at the tiller on the aft deck, his hands steady and sure.
    "Isn't it a little hard to know which way you're going at night?" Garion asked him.
    "Not at all," the captain replied. He pointed up toward the night sky. "Seasons come and go, but the stars never change."
    "Well," Garion said, "we can hope, I guess." Then he walked forward to stand in the bow of the ship.
    The night breeze that blew down the strait between Melcena and the mainland was erratic, and the sails first bellied and then fell slack, their booming sounding like a funeral drum. That sound fitted Garion’s mood. For a long time he stood toying with the end of a knotted rope and looking out over the moon-touched waves, not so much thinking as simply registering the sights and sounds and smells around him.
    He knew she was there. It was not merely the fragrance he had known since his earliest childhood, but also the calm sense of her presence. With a peculiar kind of abstraction he sought back through his memories. He had, it seemed, always known exactly where she was. Even on the darkest of nights he could have started from sleep in a strange room in some forgotten town and pointed unerringly to the place where she was. The captain of this ship was guided by the lights in the sky, but the star that had led Garion for his entire life was not some far-distant glimmer on the velvet throat of night. It was much closer, and much more constant.
    "What's troubling you, Garion?" she asked, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.
    "I could hear his voice, Aunt Pol—Torak's voice. He hated me thousands of years before I was even born. He even knew my name."
    "Garion," she said very calmly, "the universe knew your name before that moon up there was spun out of the emptiness. Whole constellations have been waiting for you since the beginning of time."
    ‘'I didn't want them to, Aunt Pol."
    "There are those of us who aren't given that option, Garion. There are things that have to be done and certain people who have to do them. It's as simple as that."
    He smiled rather sadly at her flawless face and gently touched the snowy white lock at her brow. Then, for the last time