The Seeress of Kell

other young women work. Young women talk a great deal, so we might pick up something useful.''
    "Wasn't Onatel the name of that seeress we met on the Isle of Verkat?" Sadi asked.
    "It's a common name among Dalasian women," Zakath told him. "Onatel was one of their most honored seeresses."
    "But the Isle of Verkat is in Cthol Murgos," Sadi pointed out.
    "It's not all that strange," Belgarath said. "We've had some fairly strong hints that the Dals and the slave race of Cthol Murgos are closely related and keep in more or less constant contact. This is just some additional confirmation."
    The morning sun was warm and bright as they emerged from the house and strolled off in various directions. Garion and Zakath had removed their armor and left their swords behind, al-though Garion prudently carried the Orb in a pouch tied to his belt. The two of them walked across a dewy lawn toward a group of larger buildings near the center of the city.
    "You're always very careful with that stone, aren't you, Garion?" Zakath asked.
    "I'm not sure that careful is the exact word," Garion replied, "but then again, maybe it is—in a broader sense. You see, the Orb is very dangerous, and I don't want it hurting people by accident."
    "What does it do?"
    "I'm not really sure. I’ve never seen it do anything to anybody—except possibly Torak—but that might have been the sword."
    "And you're the only one in the world who can touch the Orb?"
    "Hardly. Eriond carried it around for a couple of years. He kept trying to give it to people. They were mostly Alorns, so they knew better than to take it."
    "Then you and Eriond are the only people who can touch it?"
    "My son can," Garion said. "I put his hand on it right after he was born. It was very happy to meet him."
    "A stone? Happy?"
    "It's not like other stones." Garion smiled. "It can be a little silly now and then."
    It gets carried away by its own enthusiasm. I have to be very careful about what I think sometimes. If it decides I really want something, it might just take independent action." He laughed. "Once I was speculating about the time when Torak cracked the world, and it proceeded to tell me how to patch it."
    "You're not serious!"
    "Oh, yes. It has no conception of the word 'impossible.' If I really wanted it to, it could probably spell out my name in stars." He felt a small twitch in the pouch at his belt. "Stop that!" he said sharply to the Orb. "That was just an example, not a request."
    Zakath was staring at him.
    "Wouldn't that look grotesque?" Garion said wryly. " 'Bel-garion' running from horizon to horizon across the night sky?"
    "You know something, Garion," Zakath said. "I've always believed that someday you and I would go to war with each other. Would you be terribly disappointed if I decided not to show up?"
    "I think I could bear it." Garion grinned at him. "If nothing else, I could always start without you. You could drop by from time to time to see how things were going. Ce'Nedra can fix you supper. Of course, she's not a very good cook, but we all have to make a few sacrifices, don't we?"
    They looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing. The process that had begun at Rak Urga with the quixotic Urgit was now complete. Garion realized with a certain amount of satisfaction that he had taken the first few steps toward ending five thousand years of unrelenting hatred between Alorn and Angarak.
    The Dals paid little attention to them as they strolled along marble streets and past sparkling fountains. The inhabitants of Kell went about their activities quietly and contemplatively, their eyes lost in thought. They spoke but little, since speech among them was largely unnecessary.
    "It's an eerie sort of place, isn't it?" Zakath observed. "I'm not used to cities where nobody does anything."
    "Oh, they're doing something, all right."
    "You know what I mean. There aren't any shops, and nobody's even out sweeping the streets."
    "It is a little odd, I suppose." Garion looked around. "What's even odder is that we haven't seen a single seer since we got here. I thought this was the place where they lived."
    "Maybe they stay indoors."
    "That's possible, I suppose."
    Their morning stroll gained them little information. They tried occasionally to strike up conversations with the white-robed citizens, and although the Dals were unfailingly polite, they volunteered little in the way of talk. They answered questions that were put to them, and that was about