‘I knew that the potential was there. It didn’t really happen until Cyradis made the Choice, though.’ He looked over to where the others were sadly gathering around Toth’s still form. ‘I think they need us now,’ he said.

Toth’s face was in repose, and his hands, folded across his chest, covered the wound Cthrek Goru had made when Mordja had killed him. Cyradis stood enfolded in Zakath’s arms, her face wet with new tears.

‘Are you sure this is the right idea?’ Beldin asked Durnik.

‘Yes,’ the smith said simply. ‘You see—’

‘You don’t have to explain it, Durnik,’ the hunchback told him. ‘I just wanted to know if you’re sure. Let’s build a litter for him. It has more dignity.’ He made a brief gesture, and a number of smooth, straight poles and a coil of rope appeared beside Toth’s body. The two of them carefully lashed the poles together to form a litter and then lifted the mute’s massive body onto it. ‘Belgarath,’ Beldin said, ‘Garion, we’ll need some help here.’

Although any one of them could have translocated Toth’s body into the grotto, the four sorcerers chose instead to carry it to its final resting place in a ceremony as old as mankind.

Since the upward explosion of the Sardion had unroofed the grotto, the noon sun filled the formerly dim cave with light. Cyradis quailed slightly when she saw the grim altar upon which the Sardion had lain. ‘It seemeth to me so dark and ugly,’ she mourned in a small voice.

‘It isn’t really very attractive, is it? Ce’Nedra said critically. She turned to look at Eriond. ‘Do You suppose—?’

‘Of course,’ he agreed. He glanced only briefly at the roughly squared-off altar. It blurred slightly and then became a smooth bier of snowy-white marble.

‘That’s much nicer,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘He was my friend, too, Ce’Nedra,’ the young God responded.

It was not a formal funeral in any sense of the word. Garion and his friends simply gathered about the bier to gaze upon the face of their departed friend. There was so much concentrated power in the small grot that Garion could not be sure exactly who created the first flower. Tendrils of ivylike vines grew suddenly up the walls, but unlike ivy, the vines were covered with fragrant white flowers. Then, between one breath and another, the floor was covered with a carpet of lush green moss. Flowers in profusion covered the bier, and then Cyradis stepped forward to lay the single white rose Poledra had provided her upon the slumbering giant’s chest. She kissed his cold forehead and then sighed. ‘All too soon, methinks, the flowers will wither and fade.’

‘No, Cyradis,’ Eriond said gently, ‘they won’t. They’ll remain fresh and forever new until the end of days.’

‘I thank thee, God of Angarak,’ she said gratefully.

Durnik and Beldin had retired to a corner near the pool to confer. Then they both looked up, concentrated for a moment, and roofed the grotto with gleaming quartz that refracted the sunlight into rainbows.

‘It’s time to leave now, Cyradis,’ Polgara told the slim girl. ‘We’ve done all we can.’ Then she and her mother took the still-weeping Seeress by the arms and slowly led her back to the passage with the others following behind.

Durnik was the last to leave. He stood at the bier with his hand lying on Toth’s motionless shoulder. Finally, he put out his hand and took Toth’s fishing pole out of mid-air. He carefully laid it on the bier beside his friend’s body and patted the huge crossed hands once. Then he turned and left.

When they were outside again, Beldin and the smith sealed the passageway with more quartz.

‘There’s a nice touch,’ Silk observed sadly to Garion, pointing to the image above the portal. ‘Which one of you thought of that?’

Garion turned to look. The face of Torak was gone, and in its place the image of Eriond’s face smiled its benediction. ‘I’m not really sure,’ he replied, ‘and I don’t think it really matters.’ He tapped his fingers against the breastplate of his armor. ‘Do you suppose you could help me out of this?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think I need it anymore.’

‘No,’ Silk agreed, ‘probably not. From the look of things, I’d say you’ve run out of people to fight.’

‘Let’s hope so.’

It was much later. They had removed the Grolims from the amphitheater and cleaned up the debris which had littered the stone floor. There was very little they could do about the vast carcass of the dragon, however. Garion sat on the lowest step of the stairway leading down into the amphitheater. Ce’Nedra, still holding her sleeping child, dozed in his arms.

‘Not bad at all,’ the familiar voice said to him. This time, however, the voice did not echo in the vaults of his mind, but seemed instead to be right beside him.

‘I thought you were gone,’ Garion said, speaking quietly to avoid waking his wife and son.

‘No, not really,’ the voice replied.

‘I seem to remember that you once said that there was going to be a new voice – awareness, I suppose would be a better term – after this was decided.’

‘There is, actually, but I’m a part of it.’

‘I don’t quite understand.’

‘It’s not too complicated, Garion. Before the accident there was only one awareness, but then it was divided in the same way everything else was. Now it’s back, but since I was part of the original, I’ve rejoined it. We’re one again.’

‘That’s your idea of not too complicated?’

‘Do you really want me to explain further?’

Garion started to say something but then he decided against it. ‘You can still separate yourself, though?’

‘No. That would only lead to another division.’

‘Then how—’ Garion decided at the last instant that he didn’t really want to ask that question. ‘Why don’t we just let this drop?’ he suggested. ‘What was that light?’

‘That was the accident, the thing that divided the universe. It also divided me from my opposite and the Orb from the Sardion.’

‘I thought that happened a long time ago.’

‘It did – a very long time ago.’

‘But—’

‘Try to listen for a change, Garion. Do you know very much about light?’

‘It’s just light, isn’t it?’