The Seeress of Kell

a way of encouraging people to do necessary things by rewarding them sometimes in advance."
    "Like Relg and Taiba?"
    "Or you and Ce'Nedra or Polgara and Durnik, for that matter."
    "Can you tell me what it is that Zakath's supposed to do? What could you possibly need from him?"
    "He's going to complete what you started."
    "Wasn't I doing it right?"
    "Of course you were, but you're not an Angarak. You'll understand in time, I think. It's not really very complicated."
    A thought came to Garion, and in the instant it emerged he was sure it was absolutely correct. "You knew all along, didn't you? Who you really are, I mean."
    "I knew that the potential was there. It didn't really happen until Cyradis made the Choice, though." He looked over to where the others were sadly gathering around Toth's still form. "I think they need us now," he said.
    Toth's face was in repose, and his hands, folded across his chest, covered the wound Cthrek Goru had made when Mordja had killed him. Cyradis stood enfolded in Zakath's arms, her face wet with new tears.
    "Are you sure this is the right idea?" Beldin asked Durnik.
    "Yes," the smith said simply. "You see "
    "You don't have to explain it, Durnik," the hunchback told him. "I just wanted to know if you're sure. Let's build a litter for him. It has more dignity." He made a brief gesture, and a number of smooth, straight poles and a coil of rope appeared beside Toth's body. The two of them carefully lashed the poles together to form a litter and then lifted the mute's massive body onto it. "Belgarath," Beldin said, "Garion, we'll need some help here."
    Although any one of them could have translocated Toth's body into the grotto, the four sorcerers chose instead to carry it to its final resting place in a ceremony as old as mankind.
    Since the upward explosion of the Sardion had unroofed the grotto, the noon sun filled the formerly dim cave with light. Cyradis quailed slightly when she saw the grim altar upon which the Sardion had lain. "It seemeth to me so dark and ugly," she mourned in a small voice.
    "It isn't really very attractive, is it?" Ce'Nedra said critically. She turned to look at Eriond. "Do you suppose ?"
    "Of course," he agreed. He glanced only briefly at the roughly squared-off altar. It blurred slightly and then became a smooth bier of snowy-white marble.
    "That's much nicer," she said. "Thank you."
    "He was my friend, too, Ce'Nedra," the young God responded.
    It was not a formal funeral in any sense of the word. Garion and his friends simply gathered about the bier to gaze upon the face of their departed friend. There was so much concentrated power in the small grot that Garion could not be sure exactly who created the first flower. Tendrils of ivylike vines grew suddenly up the walls, but unlike ivy, the vines were covered with fragrant white flowers. Then, between one breath and another, the floor was covered with a carpet of lush green moss. Flowers in profusion covered the bier, and then Cyradis stepped forward to lay the simple white rose Poledra had provided her upon the slumbering giant's chest. She kissed his cold forehead and then sighed. "All too soon, methinks, the flowers will wither and fade."
    "No, Cyradis," Eriond said gently, "they won't. They'll remain fresh and forever new until the end of days.”
    "I thank thee, God of Angarak," she said gratefully.
    Durnik and Beldin had retired to a corner near the pool to confer. Then they both looked up, concentrated for a moment, and roofed the grotto with gleaming quartz that refracted the sunlight into rainbows.
    "It's time to leave now, Cyradis," Polgara told the slim girl. "We've done all we can." Then she and her mother took the still-weeping Seeress by the arms and slowly led her back to the passage with the others following behind.
    Durnik was the last to leave. He stood at the bier with his hand lying on Toth's motionless shoulder. Finally, he put out his hand and took Toth's fishing pole out of midair. He carefully laid it on the bier beside his friend's body and patted the huge crossed hands once. Then he turned and left.
    When they were outside again, Beldin and the smith sealed the passageway with more quartz.
    "There's a nice touch," Silk observed sadly to Garion, pointing to the image above the portal. "Which one of you thought of that?"
    Garion turned to look. The face of Torak was gone, and in its place the image of Eriond's face smiled its benediction. "I'm not really sure," he replied, "and I