The Seeress of Kell

Seeress,” he said. “I’ve been afraid to face up to that. It's good to know that it's not one of the tasks I’ve got ahead of me. Oh, by the way, Grandfather, my friend up here " He tapped his forehead " has been visiting again. Last night he told me that my final task will be to choose my successor. I don't suppose I could get you to help me, could I?"
    "No, Garion, I'm afraid not. I don't think I'm supposed to, am I, Cyradis?"
    "Nay, Ancient Belgarath. That task lieth on the Child of Light alone."
    "I was afraid you might look at it that way," Garion said glumly.
    "Oh, one thing, Garion," Belgarath said. "The one you choose has a fair chance of becoming a God. Don't choose me. I 'm not suited for the job.”
    The others drifted in singly or in pairs. As each one entered, Garion considered their faces, trying to picture each of his friends as a divinity. Aunt Pol? No, that didn't seem right somehow, and that automatically excluded Durnik. He could not deprive her of her husband. Silk? That idea very nearly caused Garion to collapse in helpless laughter. Zakath? It had some possibilities. Zakath was an Angarak, and the new God would be the God of that race. Zakath was a bit unpredictable, however. Until recently, he had been obsessed with power. A sudden onset of Godhood might unsettle his mind and make him revert. Garion sighed. He'd have to think about it some more.
    The servants brought in breakfast, and Ce'Nedra, obviously remembering her promise of the previous night, fixed a plate for the puppy. The plate contained eggs, sausage, and a generous dollop of jam. The she-wolf looked away with a shudder.
    They deliberately avoided the subject of tomorrow's meeting as they ate. The meeting was inevitable now, so there was no point in talking about it.
    Belgarath pushed back his plate with a look of contentment on his face. "Don't forget to thank the king for his hospitality," he told Garion.
    And then the she-wolf came over and laid her head in the old man's lap. Belgarath looked startled. The wolf had usually avoided him. "What is it, little sister?" he asked her.
    Then, to everyone's astonishment, the wolf actually laughed and spoke quite plainly in the language of humans.” Your brains have gone to sleep, old wolf," she said to Belgarath. "I thought you'd have known me weeks ago. Does this help?" A sudden blue nimbus surrounded her. "Or this?" She shimmered, and then the wolf was gone. Standing in its place was a tawny-haired, golden-eyed woman in a brown dress.
    "Mother!" Aunt Pol exclaimed.
    "You're no more observant than your father, Polgara," Poledra said reprovingly. "Garion has known for quite some time now."
    Belgarath, however, was staring in horror at the puppy.
    "Oh, don't be silly, old man," his wife told him, "You know that we're mated for life. The puppy was weak and sick, so the pack had to leave him behind. I cared for him, that's all."
    The smile on the face of the Seeress of Kell was gentle. "This is the Woman Who Watches, Ancient Belgarath," she said. "Now is thy company complete. Know, however, that she is ever with thee, as she has always been."

Part Three - THE HIGH PLACES OF KORIM

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
    Garion had seen his grandmother or her image-several times, but the similarity of her features to Aunt Polls seemed uncanny. There were differences, of course. Aunt Pol's hair, except for that white lock at her brow, was dark, almost black, and her eyes were a deep, deep blue. Poledra, on the other hand, had tawny hair, hovering nearly on the verge of being as blond as Velvet's, and her eyes were as golden as the eyes of a wolf. The features of the two women, however, were almost identical, as had been, the one time Garion had seen her image, the features of Aunt Pol's sister, Beldaran. Belgarath, his wife, and his daughter had withdrawn to the far side of the room, and Beldin, his tears glistening through his scowl, had placed himself squarely between them and the others in the room to guard their privacy during their reunion.
    "Who is she?" Zakath asked Garion in puzzlement.
    "She's my grandmother," Garion replied simply, "Belgarath's wife."
    "I didn't know he had a wife."
    "Where did you think Aunt Pol came from?"
    "I guess I hadn't thought of that." Zakath looked around, noting that both Ce'Nedra and Velvet were dabbing at their eyes with wispy little handkerchiefs.
    "Why is everyone so misty-eyed?" he asked.
    "We all thought that she had died in childbirth when Aunt Pol and her sister