luck’s still holding,’ I told the Alorns.
‘How’s that?’ Cherek asked me.
‘That’s as far as the Hounds can come. We’re home free now.’
That turned out to be premature, because there was suddenly a Hound directly in front of us – a Hound that was twice the size of the ones howling behind us. It seemed to emanate a reddish glow.
‘Don’t bother,’ I told Riva as his hand dug into the neck of his tunic. ‘The dog’s an illusion. It’s not really there.’
‘You haven’t heard the last of this, Belgarath,’ the monstrous creature growled at me, seeming almost to chew on the words with its long fangs.
‘You would be Urvon,’ I said calmly, ‘or possibly Ctuchik.’
‘I’ll let you worry about that. You and I are going to meet again, old man; you’ve got my promise on that. You’ve won this time. Next time you won’t be so lucky.’
And then it vanished.
We reached the coast of Morindland a couple of days later. The sun was rising a little higher and staying up a little longer each day, and the bitter cold seemed to be moderating. Spring was coming to the north.
We decided not to retrace our steps and cross the arctic wastes of Morindland again. We went south instead. We weren’t in any danger now, and we all wanted to find a warmer climate. We followed the shoreline until we reached present-day Gar og Nadrak, which in those days was eastern Aloria. Cherek was king there, but he didn’t have very many subjects in that part of his kingdom – unless you count the deer. The Alorns who were there were all members of the Bear-Cult anyway, so we avoided them. Bear-Cultists have wanted to get their hands on the Orb since their order was founded, and Cherek and the rest of us weren’t very eager for any more confrontations.
Once we were beyond the North Range, we turned west again and proceeded through that vast forest, crossed the mountains, and reached the Drasnian moors. Then we turned southwesterly, passed Lake Atun, and eventually reached the banks of the Aldur River on a fine spring morning.
There was someone waiting for us there.
‘Well, boy,’ the humorous old man in the rickety cart said to me, ‘I see you’re still headed west.’
‘I guess it’s sort of a habit by now,’ I replied in as casual a way as I could manage.
‘You two know each other, I take it,’ Cherek noted.
‘We’ve run across each other a few times,’ I replied. I assumed that my Master had reasons for wanting to remain anonymous, so I didn’t give him away.
‘Have you had breakfast yet?’ the old man asked.
‘If you want to call it that,’ Dras replied. ‘A few chunks of dried beef is hardly what I’d call breakfast.’
‘I’ve got a camp set up a mile or so down-river,’ the old man told us, ‘and I’ve had an ox roasting all night. You’re welcome to join me, if you’re of a mind. Are you thirsty too? I’ve got a barrel of good ale chilling in the river back at camp.’
That settled it, of course. The Alorns followed along behind the cart like a litter of happy puppies as the old man and I led them to breakfast. ‘Let’s feed your friends first,’ the old man told me quietly. ‘Then you and I need to talk.’
‘If that’s the way you want it,’ I replied.
Cherek and his sons fell on the roasted ox like a pack of hungry wolves and plunged into the ale barrel like a school of fish. After an hour or so of eating and drinking, they all became very sleepy and decided to take a little nap. The old man and I strolled down to the riverbank and stood looking out across the water. The spring runoff had begun in the Tolnedran mountains, and the river ran bank-full and muddy brown.
‘Is there any particular reason for the disguise?’ I asked, getting right to the point.
‘Probably not,’ my Master replied. ‘I use it when I have occasion to leave the Vale. People tend not to notice me when I’m plodding along in the cart. My brothers and I had a meeting in the cave.’
‘Oh?’
‘We’re going to have to leave, Belgarath.’
‘Leave?’
‘We don’t have any choice. If we stay, sooner or later we’ll have to confront Torak directly, and that would destroy the world. This world’s too important for us to let that happen. The Child of Light is going to need it.’
‘Who’s the Child of Light?’
‘It varies. You were while you and Zedar were scuffling up in Morindland. The Necessities can’t meet directly, so they have to function through agents. I think I’ve explained this to you before.’
I nodded glumly. I wasn’t happy about this particular turn of events.
‘There’s going to be an ultimate Child of Light, however,’ he went on, ‘and an ultimate Child of Dark. They’re the ones who’re going to settle everything once and for all. It’s your job to prepare for the coming of the Child. Keep an eye on Riva. The Child will descend from him.’
‘Won’t I ever see you again?’
He smiled faintly. ‘Of course you will. I’ve spent too much time raising you to turn you loose. Pay close attention to your dreams, Belgarath. I won’t be able to come back directly – at least not very often – so I’ll talk with you while you’re asleep.’
‘That’s something, anyway. Is that how you’re going to guide us, through our dreams?’
‘You’ll be guided by the Necessity. The Second Age that the Dals talk about is over now. This is the Third Age, the Age of Prophecy. The two Necessities are going to inspire certain people to predict the future.’
I saw the flaw in that immediately. ‘Isn’t that sort of dangerous?’ I asked. ‘That’s not the sort of information we’d want just anybody to get his hands on.’
‘That’s already been taken care of, my son. The rest of mankind won’t understand what the predictions mean. They’ll be obscure enough so that most people will think that they’re just the ravings of assorted madmen. Tell your Alorns to watch for them and to write down what they say if it’s at all possible. There’ll be hidden messages in them.’
‘It’s a cumbersome way to do business, Master.’
‘I know, but it’s part of the rules.’
‘I’m not so sure that the rules are holding, Master. The other side started cheating when we were in Cthol Mishrak.’
‘That was Torak. His Necessity apologized for that. Torak’s being punished for it.’
‘Good.
