The Seeress of Kell

cleaning up to do at this point, and we should give Pol a chance to brush her hair.”
    "I don't care if her hair's a little mussed," Durnik said.
    "She does. Let's wait."
    Strangely, the Orb had renewed its yearning melody. The silence remained as palpable as before, broken now only by the thin, joyous wail of Polgara's baby.
    The three friends stood on the hilltop, their breath steaming in the cold night air as they listened to that distant, piping song.
    "Good healthy lungs," Garion complimented the new father.
    Durnik grinned briefly at him, still listening to the cry of his child.
    And then that single cry was not alone. Another voice joined in.
    This time the light that burst from the Orb was a sudden blaze of blue that illuminated the snow around them, and its joyous song was a triumphant organ note. "I knew it!" Belgarath exclaimed with delight.
    "Two?" Durnik gasped. "Twins?"
    "It's a family trait, Durnik." Belgarath laughed, catching the smith in a rough embrace.
    "Are they boys or girls?" Durnik demanded.
    "What difference does it make right now? But we might as well go on down there and find out, I suppose."
    But as they turned, they saw that something seemed to be happening in the vicinity of the cottage. They stared at the single shaft of intensely blue light descending from the starry sky, a shaft that was soon joined by one of a paler blue. The cottage was bathed in their azure light as the two lights from the heavens touched the snow. Then those lights were joined by other lights,. red and yellow and green and lavender and a shade Garion could not even put a name to. Last, the lights from the sky were joined by a single shaft of blinding white. Like the colors of the rainbow, the lights stood in a semicircle in the dooryard, and the brilliant columns from which they had descended rose above them to fill the night sky with a pulsing curtain of many-hued, shifting light.
    And then the Gods were there, standing in the dooryard with their song joining with that of the Orb in a mighty benediction.
    Eriond turned to look up the hill at them. His gentle face glowed with a smile of purest joy. He beckoned to them. "Join us," he said,
    "Now it is complete." UL's voice was also joyous. "All is well now."
    Then, with the God-light bathing their faces, the three friends started down from the snowy hilltop to view that miracle, which, though it is most commonplace, is a miracle nonetheless.

    And so, my children, the time has come to close the book. There will be other days and other stories, but this tale is finished.

About the Author
    David Eddings was born in Spokane, Washington, in 1931 and was raised in the Puget Sound area north of Seattle. He received a Bachelor of Arts degree from Reed College in Portland, Oregon, in 1954 and a Master of Arts degree from the University of Washington in 1961. He has served in the United States Army, worked as a buyer for the Boeing Company, has been a grocery clerk, and has taught English. He has lived in many parts of the United States .
    His first novel, High Hunt (published by Putnam in 1973), was a contemporary adventure story. The field of fantasy has always been of interest to him, however, and he turned to The Belgariad in an effort to develop certain technical and philosophical ideas concerning that genre.
    Eddings currently resides with his wife, Leigh, in the Southwest.