David Eddings – The Seeress of Kell

“That’s if I’m still around. ”

“We can hope. “Then the voice was gone.

The guards at the king’s door admitted them, and the king went directly to a cabinet, unlocked it, and removed a roll of ancient, crackling parchment. “It is much faded, I do fear me,” he said. “We have tried to protect it from the light, but it is very old.” He went to a table and carefully unrolled the chart, weighting down the comers with books. Once again Garion felt the tense excitement as he held back slightly, reaching back into his memories of Faldor’s farm to steady himself.

The King of Perivor pointed with his finger. “Here lieth Perivor,” he told them, “and here doth lie the reef of Korim.”

Garion knew that if he looked too long at that fateful spot on the map, the wild excitement and sense of triumph would return, so he merely glanced at it, then let his eyes rove over the rest of the map. The spellings were strangely archaic. His eyes automatically sought his own kingdom. “Ryva” it was spelled. There were also “Aryndia,” “Kherech,” and “Tol Nydra” as well as “Draksnya” and “Chthall Margose.”

“It’s misspelled,” Zakath noted. “The proper name is the lUrimreef.”

Beldin began to explain, but Garion already knew the answer. *’Things change,” the dwarf said, “and among those tilings are the way we say certain words. The sounds of words shift over the centuries. The name of that reef has probably changed several times over the last few thousand years. It’s a common phenomenon. If Belgarath were to speak in the language the people

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spoke in the village where he grew up, for example, none of us would be able to understand him. I’d guess that for a time the reef was called Torim or something like that, and it finally settled into Turim. It may change again a few times. I’ve made a study of that sort of thing. You see, what happens is that—”

“Will you get on with it?” Belgarath demanded in exasperation.

“Aren’t you interested in expanding your education?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

Beldin sighed. “Anyway,” he continued, “what we call writing is just a way to reproduce the sound of a word. As the sound changes, so does the spelling. The difference is easily explained.”

“Thine answer to the question was cogent, gentle Beldin,” Cyradis said, “but in this particular case, the change of the sound was imposed.”

“Imposed?” Silk said, “by who—whom?”

“It was the two prophecies, Prince Kheldar. In furtherance of their game, they altered the sound of the word to conceal the location from Ancient Belgarath and from Zandramas. These two were both required to solve the riddle ere the final meeting could take place.”

“Game?” Silk asked incredulously. “They were playing games with something diis important?”

“These two eternal awarenesses are not as we, Prince Kheldar. They contend with each other in myriad ways. Ofttimes, one will attempt to alter the course of a star, while the other strives to hold it in place. At other times, one will attempt to move a grain of sand while the other exerts all its energy to keep the grain motionless. Such struggles ofttimes consume whole eons. The riddle game they have played with Belgarath and Zandramas is but another of the ways they have used to formalize their contention, for should it ever come to pass that they confront each other directly, they would rend the universe apart,”

Garion suddenly remembered an image that had come to him in the throne room at Vo Mimbre just before he had exposed the Murgo Nachak to King Korodullin. He had seemed to see two faceless players seated at a game where the moves had been so complex that his mind could not follow them. With absolute certainty now he saw that he had caught a momentary glimpse of the higher reality Cyradis had just described. “Did you do that on purpose?” he asked the voice in his mind.

“Naturally. You needed a bit of encouragement to get you to

do something that was necessary. You ‘re a competitive sort of boy, so J thought the image of the great game might get you stoned. ”

Then something else occurred to Garion. “Cyradis,” he said, “why is it that there are so many of us while Zandramas appears to be almost totally alone?”

“It hath ever been thus, Belgarion. The Child of Dark is solitary, even as was Torak in his pride. Thou, however, art humble. Thou hast never pushed thyself forward, forthou know-est not thine own worth. This is endearing in thee, Child of Light, for thou art not puffed up with thine own importance. The Prophecy of Dark hath ever chosen one and one only, and hath infused that one with all its power. The Prophecy of Light, however, hath chosen to disperse its power among many. Although thou art the principal bearer of the burden, all of thy companions share it with thee. The difference between the two prophecies is simple, but it is profound.”

Beldin was frowning. “You’re saying that it’s sort of like the difference between absolutism and shared responsibility, then?”

“It is much as thou hast said. The difference is more complex, however.”

“I was just trying to be concise.”

“Now that’s a first,” Belgarath said. Then he looked at the King of Perivor. “Can you describe this reef to us, your Majesty?” he asked. “The representation on the map isn’t too precise.”

“Gladly, Ancient Belgarath. In my youth I sailed thither, for the reef is something of a marvel. Seafarers assert that there is none like it in all the world. It doth consist of a series of rocky pinnacles rising from the sea. The pinnacles themselves are easy to see and therefore to avoid. Other dangers, however, lurk beneath the surface. Savage currents and tides do rush through gaps in the reef, and the weather there is ever unsettled. By reason of these perils, the reef hath never been charted in any detail. All prudent saiiors avoid it entirely, giving that dangerous obstruction wide berth.”

Dumik and Toth entered. “We’ve taken care of it, your Majesty,” Durnik reported. “Naradas is safely in the ground now. He won’t trouble you—or us—ever again. Did you want to know where we put him?”

“Methinks not, my friend. Thou and thy massive companion have done me a service this night. I implore thee, if ever I can do thee service in return, hesitate not to call upon me.”

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“Cyradis,” Belgarath said, “is this the last part of the riddle? Or are there other bits and pieces lurking about?”

“Nay, Ancient One. The game of the riddles is finished. Now the game of deeds doth begin.”

“Finally,” Belgarath said with some relief. Then he and Bel-din fell to studying the map.

“Did we find it?” Durnik asked Silk. “I mean, does the map show the location of Korim?”

Silk led him to the table. “It’s right here,” he said, pointing. “This is a very old map. Modern maps misspell the name. That’s why we had to come here.”

“We’ve been doing a lot of running around chasing after scraps of paper,” the smith observed.

“We have indeed, my friend. According to Cyradis, it’s all been part of a game being played by the friend Garion’s got inside his head and the other one, who’s probably inside Zan-dramas* head.”

“I hate games.”

“I don’t mind them.”

“That’s because you’re Drasnian.”

“That could be part of it, I suppose.”

“It’s in the approximate location where the mountains of Korim were, Belgarath,” Beldin said, measuring off distances with his fingers. “They were probably moved a bit when Torak cracked the world.”

“A lot of things were moved that day, as I recall.”

“Oh, yes,” Beldin agreed fervently. “I had trouble standing up, and Inbuilt closer to the ground than you are.”

“You know something? IVe noticed that myself. Your Majesty,” the old man addressed the king, “could you be a bit more specific about the reef? Trying to land on the side of a rock pinnacle from a boat that’s pitching around in the surf would be difficult and dangerous.”

“If memory doth serve me, Ancient Belgarath, I do seem to recall a few rocky beaches, built up, doubtless, from shards and boulders tumbled from the sides of the peaks and then pounded to bits by the restless sea. When the tide is low, this rubble, accumulated over the eons, doth rise above the surface of the sea, providing means whereby one may move freely from one pinnacle to the next.”

“Sort of like that land bridge from Morindland to Mallorea,” Silk recalled sourly. “That wasn’t a very pleasant trip.”

“Are there any landmarks of any kind?” Belgarath pressed.

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“That reef goes on for quite a ways. It could take a lot of wading to find the exact place we need to reach.”

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