“That’s a good idea.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Garion. It’s only part of one passage, after all.”
“There are a lot of things in there that are only one passage, Grandfather, and they turned out to be sort of important.”
“If it bothers you so much, chase it down. That’s a good way to learn.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious about it?”
“I have other things on my mind. You’re the one who found this discrepancy, so I’ll give you all the glory of exposing it to the world and working out the solution.”
“You’re not being very much help, Grandfather.”
Belgarath grinned at him. “I’m not really trying to be, Garion. You’re grown up enough now to solve your own problems.” He looked over at the decanter. “I believe I’ll have just another little touch of that,” he said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
” . . . And they shall number twelve, for twelve is a number which is pleasing to the Gods. I know this to be true, for a raven once came to me in a dream and told me so. I have always loved the number twelve, and it is for this reason that the Gods have chosen me to reveal this truth to all the nations. . . .”
Garion scowled at the musty-smelling book. There had been some hope in the earlier pages -some obscure references to Light and Dark and a tantalizing fragment which had stated quite clearly that, “The holiest of things will always be the color of the sky, save only when it perceives great evil, and then will it burn hot with scarlet flame.” When he had found that passage, he had read on avidly, convinced that he had stumbled across a genuine and hitherto undiscovered prophecy. The rest of the book, unfortunately, proved to be absolute gibberish. The brief biographical note at the beginning of the book indicated that its author had been a Drasnian merchant of some substance during the third millennium and that these secret jottings had been found only after his death. Garion wondered how a man with so disturbed a mind could have even functioned in a normal society.
He closed the book in disgust and added it to the growing pile of ravings that was accumulating on the table in front of him. Next he picked up a slender volume that had been found in a deserted house in Arendia. The first few pages were devoted to the household accounts of a very minor Arendish nobleman. Then, on the fourth page, the mundane broke off quite suddenly. “The Child of Light shall take up the sword and go in search of that which is hidden,” Garion read. This was immediately followed by a tediously detailed account of the purchase of a dozen or so pigs from a neighbor. Then once again the unknown writer jumped into prophecy. “The quest of the Child of Light shall be for one whose soul has been reft away, for a stone that is empty at its center and for the babe who will hold the Light in one hand and the Dark in the other.” That definitely seemed to be getting somewhere. Garion pulled one of his guttering candles closer and hunched over the book, reading each page carefully.
Those two passages, however, proved to be the only ones in the entire volume that did not speak of the day-to-day business of that forgotten farm somewhere in Arendia.
Garion sighed, leaned back, and looked around at the dimly lighted library. The bound books stood in their dusty rows on the dark shelves, and the linen-covered scrolls lay along the top of each bookcase. The light of his two candles flickered, making the room seem almost to dance.
“There has to be a faster way to do this,” he muttered.
“Actually there is,”
the dry voice in his mind said to him.
“What?”
“You said that there had to be a faster way. I said that there is.”
“Where have you been?”
“Here and there.”
Garion knew this other awareness well enough by now to be certain that it would tell him only what it wanted him to know.
“All right,” he said, “what is this faster way?”
“You don’t have to read every single word the way you have been doing. Open your mind and just leaf through the pages. The things I put in each book will sort of leap out at you.”
” Are the prophecies always mixed right in with all this other nonsense?”
“Usually, yes.”
“Why did you do it that way?”
“Several reasons. Most of the time I didn’t want the man who was doing the actual writing even to know what I was hiding in his book. Then, of course, it’s a good way to keep things from falling into unfriendly hands.”
“And friendly ones too, for that matter.”
“Did you want me to explain, or were you just looking for an excuse to make clever remarks?”
“All right.” Garion sighed, giving up.
“I think I’ve told you before that the word gives meaning to the event. The word has to be there, but it doesn’t have to be right out in the open where just anybody can find it.”
Garion frowned. “Do you mean that you put all these things in all these books for just a few people to read?”
“The term ‘a few’ isn’t really accurate. Try ‘one’ instead.”
“One? Who?”
“You, obviously.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Are we going to go through that again?”
“Are you trying to say that all of this was sort of like a personal letter -just to me?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“What if I hadn’t gotten around to reading it?”
“Why are you reading it now?”
“Because Belgarath told me to.”
“Why do you think Belgarath told you that?”
“Because-” Garion broke off. .,, You told him to say it to me?””Naturally. He didn’t know about it, of course, but I nudged him. All sorts of people have access to the Mrin Codex. That’ s why I made it so cryptic. These personal instructions to you, however, should be fairly clear -if you pay attention.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what I’m supposed to do?
“I’m not permitted to do that.”
“Permitted?”
“We have our rules, my opposite and I. We’re very carefully balanced and we have to stay that way. We agreed only to act through our instruments, and if I intervene in person -with such things as telling you directly what you must do- then my opposite will also be free to step over the line. That’s why we both work through what are called prophecies.”
“Isn’t that a little complicated?”
“The alternative would be absolute chaos. My opposite and I are limitless. If we confront each other directly, whole suns will be destroyed.”
Garion shuddered and swallowed hard. “I didn’t realize that,” he admitted. Then an idea occurred to him. “Would you be permitted to tell me about that line in the Mrin Codex -the one that’s got the blotted word in the middle of it?
“That depends on how much you want to know about it.”
“What’s the word under the blot?”
“There are several words there. If you look at it in the right kind of light, you should be able to see them. As for these other books, try reading them the way I told you to. I think you’ll find that it saves a lot of time -and you really don’t have all that much time to spare.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But the voice was gone.
The door to the library opened, and Ce’Nedra came in, wearing her nightdress and a warm robe. “Garion,” she said, “aren’t you ever coming to bed?”
“What?” He looked up. “Oh -yes. Right away.”
“Who was in here with you?”
“Nobody. Why?”
“I heard you talking to someone.”
“I was just reading, that’s all.”
“Come to bed, Garion,” she said firmly. “You can’t read the whole library in one evening.”
“Yes, dear,” he agreed.
Not long after that, when spring had begun to touch the lower meadows of the slopes behind the Citadel, the promised letter from King Anheg arrived. Garion immediately took the copy of that baffling passage in the Mrin Codex to the library to compare it withhis copy. When he put the two side by side, he began to swear. Anheg’s copy was blotted in exactly the same place. “I told him!” Garion fumed. “I told him specifically that I needed to see that particular spot! I even showed him!” Swearing angrily, he began to pace up and down, waving both arms in the air.
Rather surprisingly, Ce’Nedra took her husband’s near obsession with the Mrin Codex in stride. Of course, the little queen’s attention was almost totally riveted on her new son, and Garion was fairly certain that anything he said or did was only on the very edge of her awareness. Young Prince Geran was grossly overmothered. Ce’Nedra held him in her arms almost every minute that he was awake and frequently even when he was asleep. He was a good-natured baby and seldom cried or fussed. He took his mother’s constant attention quite calmly and accepted all the cuddling and cooing and impulsive kisses with equanimity. Garion, however, felt that Ce’Nedra really overdid things just a bit. Since she insisted on holding Geran constantly, it definitely cut into the time whenhe might be able to hold his son. Once he almost asked her when his turn was going to come, but decided at the last minute not to. The thing that he really felt was unfair was Ce’Nedra’s sense of timing. Whenever shedid put Geran in his cradle for a few moments and Garion finally got the chance to pick him up, the little queen’s hands seemed almost automatically to go to the buttons on the front of her dress, and she would placidly announce that it was time for Geran to nurse. Garion certainly did not begrudge his son his lunch, but the baby really didn’t look all that hungry most of the time.