The Seeress of Kell

you were going to stay up all night," she said sleepily.
    "We were talking."
    "I know. I could hear the murmur of voices even in here. And men think women talk all the time."
    "Don't you?"
    "Probably, but a woman can talk while her hands are busy. A man can't."
    "You might be right."
    There was a moment of silence. "Garion," she said.
    "Yes, Ce'Nedra?"
    "Can I borrow your knife, the little dagger Durnik gave you when you were a boy?"
    "If you want something cut, point it out. I'll cut it for you."
    "It's nothing like that, Garion. I just want to have a knife tomorrow."
    "What for?"
    "As soon as I see Zandramas, I'm going to kill her."
    "Ce'Nedra!"
    "I have every right to kill her, Garion. You told Cyradis you didn't think you could do it because Zandramas is a woman. I don't suffer from the same kind of delicacy as you do. I'm going to carve out her heart if she has one slowly.” She said it with a fierceness he had never heard in her voice before. “I want blood, Garion! Lots of blood, and I want to hear her scream as I twist the knife in her. You'll lend me your dagger, won't you?'”
    "Absolutely not!"
    "That's all right, Garion," she said in an icy tone. "I’m sure Liselle will lend me one of hers. Liselle's a woman and she knows how I feel,” Then she turned her back on him.
    "Ce'Nedra," he said placatingly.
    "Yes?" Her tone was sulky.
    "Be reasonable, dear."
    "I don't want to be reasonable. I want to kill Zandramas."
    “I 'm not going to let you put yourself in that kind of danger. We have much more important things to do tomorrow.”
    She sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's just "
    "Just what?"
    She turned back and put her arms around his neck. "Never mind, Garion," she said. "Let's go to sleep now." She nestled down against him, and after a few moments her regular breathing told him that she had drifted off.
    "You should have given her the knife," the voice in his mind told him. "Silk could have stolen it back from her sometime tomorrow. "
    "But "
    "We've sot something else to talk about, Garion. Have you been thinking about your successor?"
    "Well sort of. It doesn't really fit any of them, you know. "
    "Have you given serious consideration to each of them?"
    “I suppose I have, but I haven't been able to make any decisions yet."
    “You 're not supposed to make your choice yet. All you had to do was think about each one of them and get them all firmly fixed in your mind. "
    “When do I make the choice then?“
    “At the last possible moment, Garion. Zandramas might be able to hear your thoughts, but she can't hear what you haven't decided yet. "
    "What if I make a mistake?"
    "I really don't think you can, Garion. I really don't. "
    Garion's sleep was troubled that night. His dreams seemed chaotic, disconnected, and he woke often only to sink back into a restless doze. There was at first a kind of distorted recapitulation of the strange dreams that had so disturbed him that night long ago on the Isle of the Winds just before his life had been unalterably changed. The question "Are you ready?" seemed to echo again and again in the vaults of his mind. Again he faced Rundorig with Aunt Pol's matter-of-fact instruction to kill his boyhood friend roaring in his mind. And then the boar he had encountered in the snowy wood outside Val Alorn was there, pawing at the snow, its eyes aglow with rage and hate. “Are you ready?" Barak asked him before releasing the beast. Then he stood on the colorless plain surrounded by the pieces of the incomprehensible game trying to decide which piece to move while the voice in his mind urged him to hurry.
    The dream subtly changed and took on a different tone. Our dreams, no matter how bizarre, have a familiarity to them, since they are formed and shaped by our own minds. Now it seemed as if Garion's dreams were being formed by a different and unfriendly awareness almost in the same way that Torak had intruded himself in dreams and in thoughts before the meeting at Cthol Mishrak.
    Again he faced Asharak the Murgo in the loamy Wood of the Dryads, and once again he unleashed his will with that single, open-handed slap and the fatal word, "Burn!" This was a familiar nightmare. It had haunted Garion's sleep for years. He saw Asharak's cheek begin to seethe and smoke. He heard the Grolim shriek and saw him clutch at his burning face. He heard the dreadful plea, "Master, have mercy!" He spurned that plea and intensified the flame, but this time the act was not overlaid with