“I had a little trouble sleeping. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Garion. Why do you ask?”
“I was just—” He broke off with a shrug. “There are some young Ulgo women outside. They want to see you.”
She frowned. “Who could they possibly be?”
“They seemed to know you. They said that they wanted to see the Princess Ce’Nedra.”
“Of course!” she exclaimed, springing from her bed. “I’d almost forgotten them.” She quickly pulled on a teal-green dressing gown and dashed from the room.
Curiously, Garion started to follow her, but stopped in the central hall of the house when he saw Polgara, Durnik, and the Gorim sitting quietly at the stone table.
“What was that all about?” Polgara asked, looking after the scurrying little queen.
“There are some Ulgo women outside,” Garion replied. “They seem to be friends of hers.”
“She was very popular during her visit here,” the Gorim said. “Ulgo girls are very shy, but Ce’Nedra befriended them all. They adored her.”
“Excuse me, your Worship,” Durnik said, “but is Relg anywhere about? I thought I might look in on him, as long as we’re here.”
“Relg and Taiba have taken their children and moved to Maragor,” the Gorim replied.
“Maragor?” Garion blinked. “What about the ghosts there?”
“They are under the protection of the God Mara,” the Gorim told him. “There seems to be some kind of understanding between Mara and UL. I’m not sure I entirely understand it, but Mara insists that Taiba’s children are Marags and he has vowed to watch over them in Maragor.”
Garion frowned. “But isn’t their first-born son going to be Gorim someday?”
The old man nodded. “Yes. His eyes are still as blue as sapphires. I was concerned myself at first, Belgarion, but I’m certain that UL will return Relg’s son to the caves of Ulgo at the proper time.”
“How is Ce’Nedra this morning, Garion?” Polgara asked seriously.
“She seems to be almost back to normal. Does that mean that she’s all right?”
“It’s a good sign, dear, but it might be a little early to be sure. Why don’t you go keep an eye on her?”
“All right.”
“Just try not to be obvious. This is a rather critical time, and we don’t want her getting the idea that we’re spying on her.”
“I’ll be careful, Aunt Pol.” He went outside and began walking around the small island as if he were only stretching his legs. He cast frequent glances at the group on the far shore. The pale, white-gowned Ulgo women were clustered about Ce’Nedra. Her green robe and her flaming red hair stood out in sharp contrast in the midst of the group. A sudden image came into Garion’s mind. With her vibrant coloring, Ce’Nedra looked very much like a single crimson rose growing in the midst of a bed of white lilies.
After about a half an hour, Polgara came out of the house. “Garion,” she said, “have you seen Errand this morning?”
“No, Aunt Pol.”
“He’s not in his room.” She frowned slightly. “What is that boy thinking of? Go see if you can find him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied automatically. As he started across the causeway, he smiled to himself. In spite of all that had happened, he and Aunt Pol always returned to the same relationship they had shared when he was a boy. He was fairly certain that most of the time she did not even remember that he was a king, and so she often sent him on menial errands with no real awareness that they might be beneath his dignity. Moreover, he found that he did not really mind. To fall back into the pattern of immediately obeying her peremptory commands relieved him of the necessity of making difficult decisions and took him back to those days when he was just a simple farm boy with none of the cares and responsibilities that had come to him with the crown of Riva.
Ce’Nedra and her friends were seated on rocks not far from the dim lake shore. Their conversation was subdued, and Ce’Nedra’s face was somber again.
“Are you all right?” he asked her as he approached them.
“Yes,” she replied. “We were just talking, that’s all.”
He looked at her, but decided not to say anything more. “Have you seen Errand?” he asked instead.
“No. Isn’t he in the house?”
He shook his head. “I think he’s gone exploring. Aunt Pol asked me to find him.”
One of the young Ulgo women whispered something to Ce’Nedra.
“Saba says that she saw him in the main gallery when she was coming here,” Ce’Nedra told him. “It was about an hour ago.”
“Which way is that?” he asked.
“Over there.” She pointed toward an opening leading back into the rock.
He nodded. “Are you warm enough?” he asked her.
“I’m fine, Garion.”
“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said and walked toward the gallery she had pointed out. It made him uncomfortable to be forced to step around her this way, but the possibility that a chance remark might push her back into that bleak depression made him wary and half-afraid to speak at all. A purely physical ailment was one thing, but an illness of the mind was something horrifying.
The gallery he entered, like all the caves and passageways in which the Ulgos lived out their lives, was faintly illuminated by the dim glow of phosphorescent rocks. The cubicles on either side of the gallery were scrupulously neat, and he saw entire families gathered about stone tables for their morning meal, apparently oblivious to the fact that the fronts of their quarters were open to scrutiny by anyone who chanced to pass this way.
Since few of the Ulgos could speak his language, it was impossible for Garion to ask anyone if Errand had passed, and he soon found that he was wandering more or less aimlessly, hoping that he might chance across his friend. At the far end of the gallery, he emerged into the vast cavern where that flight of chiseled stairs led downward toward the dim reaches below.
He considered the possibility that Errand might have gone down to visit his horse, but something seemed to tell him that he should turn instead to follow the broad ledge circling the edge of the chasm. He had gone no more than a few hundred yards when he heard the sound of voices issuing from the mouth of a dark passageway angling back into the rock face. The shifting echoes made it impossible to distinguish individual words, but it seemed to Garion that one of the voices was Errand’s. He entered the passageway, following the sound alone.
At first there was no light in the unused gallery, and he put his hand to the rough rock wall to grope his way along; but as he rounded a corner, he saw a light coming from somewhere ahead—a peculiar kind of steady white radiance quite unlike the faint greenish glow of phosphorescence that normally illuminated this dark world of the caves. And then the corridor he was following bent sharply to the left, and he rounded that corner to see Errand talking with a tall, white-robed figure. Garion’s eyes widened. The light he had seen was emanating from that figure, and he felt the awesome presence of a transcendent being.
The glowing figure did not turn, but spoke in a calm, quiet voice. “Join us, Belgarion, and welcome.”
Garion found that he was actually trembling as he wordlessly obeyed. Then the figure in white turned, and he found himself looking directly into the timeless face of UL himself.
“I have been instructing young Eriond here in the task which lies before him,” the Father of the Gods said.
“Eriond?”
“It is his true name, Belgarion. It is time for him to put aside the childish name of his boyhood and to assume his true one. Even as thou wert concealed beneath thy simple
‘Garion, so hath he lain hidden under that ‘Errand.’ There is wisdom in this, for the true name of a man with a great task lying before him can oft times bring danger when its owner hath not yet come into his inheritance.”
“It’s a good name, don’t you think, Belgarion?” Eriond said proudly.
“It’s an excellent name, Eriond,” Garion agreed. The Orb, standing on the pommel of the great sword sheathed across Garion’s back, glowed its blue response to the incandescently white radiance of UL, and the God nodded his acknowledgement of the stone.
“Tasks have been set for each of you,” UL continued, “and for the companions who accompany you. All these tasks must be completed ere the meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark may come again.”
“Please, Holy UL,” Garion said, “can you tell me—is my son all right?”
“He is well, Belgarion. The one who holds him will see to his needs. For the moment he is in no danger.”