Poppi stirred, stretched, and yawned. She brought the flower to her little black nose and sniffed at it, looking affectionately at the expectant Tupik. She made a happy little chirping sound, and then she and Tupik scampered off together for a morning swim in the cool water of the swamp.

"It's a courting ritual," Vordai explained. "Tupik wants Poppi to be his mate, and as long as she continues to accept his gifts, he knows that she's still fond of him. It will go on for quite some time, and then they'll swim off into the swamp together for a week or so. When they come back, they'll be mates for life. Is that really so different from the way young humans behave?"

Her question profoundly disturbed Garion for some reason he could not quite put his finger on.

"Look there," Vordai told them, pointing through the window at a group of young fenlings, scarcely more than babies, at play. They had fashioned a ball out of moss and were rapidly passing it around in a circle, their large eyes intent on their game. "Couldn't a human child join that group and not feel the slightest bit out of place?" Vordai pressed.

Not far beyond the game, a mature female fenling cradled her sleeping baby, rocking gently with her cheek against the little one's face. "Isn't motherhood universal?" Vordai asked. "In what way do my children differ from humans?-except that they're perhaps more decent, more honest and loving with each other?"

Belgarath sighed. "All right, Vordai," he said, "you've made your point. I'll grant that the fenlings are probably nicer creatures than men. I don't know that speech will improve them, but if that's what you want-" He shrugged.

"You'll do it then?"

"I know it's wrong, but I'll try to do what you ask. I really don't have much choice, do I?"

"No," she replied, "you don't. Will you need anything? I have all the customary implements and compounds."

He shook his head. "Sorcery doesn't work that way. Witchcraft involves the summoning of spirits, but sorcery comes all from within. Someday, if we have the leisure, I'll explain the difference to you." He stood up. "I don't suppose you'd care to change your mind about this?"

Her face hardened. "No, Belgarath," she replied.

He sighed again. "All right, Vordai. I'll be back in a bit." He turned quietly and walked out into the mist-shrouded morning.

In the silence that followed his departure, Garion closely watched Vordai for some hint that her determination might not be as iron-hard as it seemed. It had occurred to him that if she were not blindly adamant, he might be able to explain the situation and persuade her to relent. The witch of the fens paced nervously about the room, picking things up absently and setting them down again. She seemed unable to concentrate her attention on any one thing for more than a moment.

"This may ruin him, you know," Garion told her quietly. Bluntness perhaps might sway her where other attempts at persuasion had failed.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded sharply.

"He was very ill last winter," Garion replied. "He and Ctuchik fought each other for possession of the Orb. Ctuchik was destroyed, but Belgarath nearly died too. It's quite possible that his power was destroyed by his illness."

Silk's gasp was clearly audible. "Why didn't you tell us?" he exclaimed.

"Aunt Pol said that we didn't dare," Garion said. "We couldn't take any chance of word of it getting back to the Angaraks. Belgarath's power is the one thing that's held them in check all these years. If he's lost it and they find out, they'll feel free to invade the West."

"Does he know?" Vordai asked quickly.

"I don't think so. Neither one of us said anything to him about it. We couldn't let him think for a moment that anything might be wrong. If he has one single doubt, it won't work for him. That's the main thing about sorcery. You have to believe that what you want to happen is going to. Otherwise, nothing happens at all - and each time you fail, it gets worse."

"What did you mean when you said that this might ruin him?" Vordai's face looked stricken, and Garion began to have some hope. "He may still have his power - or some of it," he explained. "But not enough to do what you've asked of him. It takes a tremendous effort to do even simple things, and what you've asked him to do is very difficult. It could be too much for him; but once he starts, he won't be able to stop. And the effort may drain his will and his life energy until he cannot ever recover - or until he dies."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Vordai demanded, her face anguished.

"I couldn't - not without his hearing me, too."

She turned quickly toward the door. "Belgarath!" she cried. "Waitl" She spun back to Garion. "Go after him! Stop himl"

That was what Garion had been waiting for. He jumped to his feet and ran to the door. As he swung it open and was about to call out across the rainy yard, he felt a strange oppression as if something were almost happening - almost, but not quite. The shout froze on his lips.

"Go on, Garion," Silk urged him.

"I can't," Garion groaned. "He's already begun to pull in his will. He wouIdn't even hear me."

"Can you help him?"

"I don't even know exactly what he's trying to do, Silk," Garion replied helplessly. "If I went blundering in there now, all I'd do is make things worse."

They stared at him in consternation.

Garion felt a strange echoing surge. It was not at all what he ex pected, and so he was totally unprepared for it. His grandfather was not trying to move anything or change anything, but instead he was calling out - reaching across some vast distance with the voice of his mind. The words were not at all distinct, but the one word, "Master," did come through once quite distinctly. Belgarath was trying to reach Aldur. Garion held his breath.

Then, from infinitely far away, Aldur's voice replied. They spoke together quietly for several moments, and all the while Garion could feel the force of Belgarath's will, infused and magnified by the will of Aldur, growing stronger and stronger.

"What's happening?" Silk's voice was almost frightened.

"He's talking with Aldur. I can't hear what they're saying."

"Will Aldur help him?" Vordai asked.

"I don't know. I don't know if Aldur can use his will here any more. There's some kind of limitation - something that he and the other Gods agreed to."

Then the strange conversation ended, and Garion felt Belgarath's will mounting, gathering itself. "He's begun," Garion said in a half whisper.