The book was not thick and it was bound in black leather. Belgarath’s hands were shaking as he carried it to a table, sat, and opened it.
“I couldn’t really make very much out of it,” Senji confessed to Beldin. “I think whoever wrote it might have been insane.”
“He was,” the hunchback replied.
“You know who he was?”
Beldin nodded. “Torak,” he said shortly.
“Torak’s just a myth—something the Angaraks dreamed up.”
“Tell that to him,” Beldin said, pointing at Garion.
Senji swallowed hard, staring at Garion. “Did you really—I mean—?”
“Yes,” Garion answered sadly. Oddly enough, he found that he still regretted what had happened at Cthol Mishrak over a dozen years ago.
“It’s uncut!” Belgarath exclaimed triumphantly. “Somebody copied from the original before Torak had time to mutilate it. The missing passages are all here. Listen to this: ‘And it shall come to pass that the Child of Light and the Child of Dark shall meet in the City of Endless Night. But that is not the place of the final meeting, for the choice will not be made there, and the Spirit of Dark shall flee. Know, moreover, that a new Child of Dark shall arise in the east.’ “
“Why would Torak cut that passage?” Garion asked, puzzled.
“The implications of it aren’t good—at least not for him,” Belgarath replied. “The fact that there was going to be a new Child of Dark hints rather strongly that he wouldn’t survive the meeting at Cthol Mishrak.”
“Not only that,” Beldin added, “even if he did survive, he was going to be demoted. That might have been just a little hard for him to swallow.”
Belgarath quickly leafed through several pages.
“Are you sure you’re not missing things?” Beldin asked him.
“I know what that copy at Ashaba said, Beldin. I have a very good memory.”
“Really?” Beldin’s tone was sardonic.
“Just let it lie.” Belgarath read another passage rapidly. “I can see why he cut this one,” he said. “ ‘Behold, the stone which holds the power of the Dark Spirit will not reveal itself to that Child of Dark who shall come to the City of Endless Night, but will yield instead only to Him who is yet to come.’ “ He scratched at his beard. “If I’m reading this right, the Sardion concealed itself from Torak because he wasn’t intended to be the ultimate instrument of the Dark Prophecy.”
“I imagine that hurt his ego just a little.” Beldin laughed.
But Belgarath had already moved on. His eyes suddenly widened, and his face paled slightly. “ ‘For lo,’ “ he read, “ ‘only one who hath put his hand to Cthrag Yaska shall be permitted to touch Cthrag Sardius. And in the moment of that touch, all that he is or might have become shall be sacrificed, and he shall become the Vessel of the Spirit of Dark. Seek ye, therefore, the son of the Child of Light, for he shall be our champion in the Place Which Is No More. And should he be chosen, he shall rise above all others and shall bestride die world with Cthrag Yaska in one hand and Cthrag Sardius in the other, and thus shall all that was divided be made one again, and he will have lordship and dominion over all things until the end of days.’ “
Garion was thunderstruck. “’So that’s what they mean by the word ‘sacrifice’!” he exclaimed. “Zandramas isn’t going to kill Geran.”
“No,” Belgarath said darkly. “She’s going to do something worse. She’s going to turn him into another Torak.”
“It goes a little further than that, Belgarath,” Beldin growled. “The Orb rejected Torak—and burned off half his face in the process. The Sardion didn’t even let Torak know that it was around. But the Orb will accept Geran, and so will the Sardion. If he gets his hands on both those stones, he’ll have absolute power. Torak was a baby compared to what he’ll be.” He looked somberly at Garion. “That’s why Cyradis told you at Rheon that you might have to kill your son.”
“That’s unthinkable!” Garion retorted hotly.
“Maybe you’d better start thinking about it. Geran won’t be your son any more. Once he touches the Sardion, he’ll be something totally evil—and he’ll be a God.”
Bleakly, Belgarath read on. “Here’s something,” he said. “ ‘And the Child of Dark who shall bear the champion to the place of choosing shall be possessed utterly by the Dark Spirit, and her flesh shall be but a husk, and all the starry universe shall be contained therein.’ “
“What does that mean?” Garion asked.
“I’m not sure,” Belgarath admitted. He leafed through a couple more pages. He frowned. “ ‘And it shall come to pass that she who gave birth unto the champion shall reveal unto ye the place of the final meeting, but ye must beguile her ere she will speak.’ “
“Ce’Nedra?” Garion asked incredulously.
“Zandramas has tampered with Ce’Nedra before,” Belgarath reminded him. “We’ll have Pol keep an eye on her.” He frowned again. “Why would Torak cut out that passage?” he asked with a baffled look.
“Torak wasn’t the only one with a sharp knife, Belgarath,” Beldin said. “That’s a fairly crucial bit of information. I don’t think Zandramas would have wanted to leave it behind, do you?”
“That confuses the issue, doesn’t it,” Belgarath said sourly. “I read a book at Ashaba that had two editors. I’m surprised there was anything left of it at all.”
“Read on, old man,” Beldin said, glancing at the window. “The sun’s going down.”
“Well, finally,” Belgarath said after reading for a moment more. “Here it is. ‘Behold, the place of the final meeting shall be revealed at Kell, for it lies hidden within the pages of the accursed book of the seers.’ “ He thought about it. “Nonsense!” he burst out. “I’ve read parts of the Mallorean Gospels myself, and there are dozens of copies scattered all over the world. If this is right, anybody could have picked up the location.”
“They’re not all the same,” Senji murmured.
“What?” Belgarath exploded.
“The copies of the Mallorean Gospels aren’t all the same,” the alchemist repeated. “I used to look through all these holy books. Sometimes the ancients ran across things that could prove helpful in my experiments. I’ve gathered up a fair library of that sort of thing. That’s why I stole the book you’ve got in your hands.”
“I suppose you’ve even got a copy of the Mrin Codex,” Beldin said.
“Two, actually, and they’re identical. That’s the peculiar thing about the Mallorean Gospels. I’ve got three sets, and two copies are the same.”
“Oh, fine,” Belgarath said. “I knew there was a reason not to trust the seers.”
“I think they do it on purpose.” Senji shrugged. “After I started running across discrepancies, I went to Kell, and the seers there told me that there are secrets in the Gospels that are too dangerous to have out there for just anyone to read. That’s why every copy is different. They’ve all been modified to hide those secrets—except for the original, of course. That’s always been kept at Kell.”
Beldin and Belgarath exchanged a long look. “All right,” Beldin said flatly, “we go to Kell.”
“But we’re right behind Zandramas,” Garion objected.
“And that’s where we’ll stay if we don’t go to Kell,” Beldin told him. “Behind her. Going to Kell is the only way we can get ahead of her.”
Belgarath had turned to the last page of the Oracles. “I think this is a personal message, Garion,” he said in an awed sort of voice, holding out the book.
“What?”
“Torak wants to talk to you.”
“He can talk all he wants. I’m not going to listen to him. I almost made that mistake once—when he tried to tell me he was my father, remember?”
“This is a little different. He’s not lying this time.”
Garion took hold of the book, and a deathly chill seemed to run up through his hands and into his arms.
“Read it,” Belgarath said implacably.
Compelled—driven, even—Garion lowered his eyes to the spidery script on the page before him. “ ‘Hail, Belgarion,’ “ he read aloud in a faltering voice. “ ‘If it should ever come to pass that thine eyes fall upon this, then it means that I have fallen beneath thy hand. I mourn that not. I will have cast myself into the crucible of destiny, and, if I have failed, so he it. Know that I hate thee, Belgarion. For hate’s sake I will throw myself into the darkness. For hate’s sake will I spit out my last breath at thee, my damned brother.’ “ Garion’s voice failed him. He could actually feel the maimed God’s towering hatred reaching down to him through the eons. He now understood the full import of what had happened in the terrible City of Endless Night.
“Keep reading,” Belgarath told him. “There’s more.”