know?"
"Of course I want to know."
"All right. It went like this: 'Behold, the heart of the stone shall relent, and the beauty that was destroyed shall be restored, and the eye that is not shall be made whole again."'
Belgarath stared at him. "That's it?" he asked.
"That's it," Beldin told him.
"But what does it mean?" Garion asked.
"Just what it says, Belgarion," Beldin replied. "For some reason the Orb is going to restore Torak."
Garion began to tremble as the full impact of Beldin's words struck him. "Torak's going to win, then," he said numbly.
"It didn't say anything about winning or losing, Belgarion," Beldin corrected him. "All it said was that the Orb is going to undo what it did to Torak when he used it to crack the world. It doesn't say anything about why."
"That's always been the trouble with the Prophecy," Belgarath observed. "It can mean any one of a dozen different things."
"Or all of them," Beldin added. "That's what makes it so difficult to understand sometimes. We tend to concentrate on just one thing, but Prophecy includes everything at the same time. I'll work on it and see if I can wring some sense out of it. If I come up with anything, I'll let you know. I'd better be getting back." He leaned slightly forward and curled his arms out in a vaguely winglike gesture. "Watch out for the Morindim," he told Belgarath. "You're a fair sorcerer, but magic's altogether different, and sometimes it gets away from you."
"I think I can handle it if I have to," Belgarath replied tartly.
"Maybe," Beldin said. "If you can manage to stay sober." He shimmered back into the form of the hawk, beat his wings twice, and spiraled up out of the clearing and into the sky. Garion watched him until he was only a circling speck.
"That was a strange visit," Silk said, rolling out of his blankets. "It looks as if quite a bit's been going on since we left."
"And none of it very good," Belgarath added sourly. "Let's get moving. We're really going to have to hurry now. If Anheg gets his fleet into the Sea of the East and starts sinking Mallorean troop ships, 'Zakath might decide to march north and come across the land bridge. If we don't get there first, it could get very crowded up there." The old man scowled darkly. "I'd like to put my hands on your uncle just about now," he added.
"I'd sweat a few pounds off him."
They quickly saddled their horses and rode back along the edge of the sunlit forest toward the road leading north.
Despite the rather lame assurances of the two sorcerers, Garion rode slumped in despair. They were going to lose, and Torak was going to kill him.
"Stop feeling sa sorry for yourself, " the inner voice told him finally.
"Why did you get me into this?" Garion demanded bitterly.
"We've discussed that before. "
"He's going to kill me."
"What gives you that idea?"
"That's what the Prophecy said." Garion stopped abruptly as a thought occurred to him. "You said it yourself. You're the Prophecy, aren't you?"
"It's a misleading term-,and I didn't say anything about winning or losing. "
"Isn't that what it means?"
"No. It means exactly what it says."
"What else could it mean?"
"You're getting more stubborn every day. Stop worrying so much about meanings and just do what you have to do. You almost had it right, back there. "
"If all you're going to do is talk in riddles, why bother with it at all? Why go to all the trouble of saying things that nobody's able to understand?"
"Because it's necessary to say it. The word determines the event. The word puts limits on the event and shapes it. Without the word, the event is merely a random happening. That's the whole purpose of what you call prophecy - to separate the significant from the random. "
"I don't understand."
"I didn't think you would, but you asked, after all. Now stop worrying about it. It has nothing to do with you."
Garion wanted to protest, but the voice was gone. The conversation, however, had made him feel a little better - not much,
"Of course I want to know."
"All right. It went like this: 'Behold, the heart of the stone shall relent, and the beauty that was destroyed shall be restored, and the eye that is not shall be made whole again."'
Belgarath stared at him. "That's it?" he asked.
"That's it," Beldin told him.
"But what does it mean?" Garion asked.
"Just what it says, Belgarion," Beldin replied. "For some reason the Orb is going to restore Torak."
Garion began to tremble as the full impact of Beldin's words struck him. "Torak's going to win, then," he said numbly.
"It didn't say anything about winning or losing, Belgarion," Beldin corrected him. "All it said was that the Orb is going to undo what it did to Torak when he used it to crack the world. It doesn't say anything about why."
"That's always been the trouble with the Prophecy," Belgarath observed. "It can mean any one of a dozen different things."
"Or all of them," Beldin added. "That's what makes it so difficult to understand sometimes. We tend to concentrate on just one thing, but Prophecy includes everything at the same time. I'll work on it and see if I can wring some sense out of it. If I come up with anything, I'll let you know. I'd better be getting back." He leaned slightly forward and curled his arms out in a vaguely winglike gesture. "Watch out for the Morindim," he told Belgarath. "You're a fair sorcerer, but magic's altogether different, and sometimes it gets away from you."
"I think I can handle it if I have to," Belgarath replied tartly.
"Maybe," Beldin said. "If you can manage to stay sober." He shimmered back into the form of the hawk, beat his wings twice, and spiraled up out of the clearing and into the sky. Garion watched him until he was only a circling speck.
"That was a strange visit," Silk said, rolling out of his blankets. "It looks as if quite a bit's been going on since we left."
"And none of it very good," Belgarath added sourly. "Let's get moving. We're really going to have to hurry now. If Anheg gets his fleet into the Sea of the East and starts sinking Mallorean troop ships, 'Zakath might decide to march north and come across the land bridge. If we don't get there first, it could get very crowded up there." The old man scowled darkly. "I'd like to put my hands on your uncle just about now," he added.
"I'd sweat a few pounds off him."
They quickly saddled their horses and rode back along the edge of the sunlit forest toward the road leading north.
Despite the rather lame assurances of the two sorcerers, Garion rode slumped in despair. They were going to lose, and Torak was going to kill him.
"Stop feeling sa sorry for yourself, " the inner voice told him finally.
"Why did you get me into this?" Garion demanded bitterly.
"We've discussed that before. "
"He's going to kill me."
"What gives you that idea?"
"That's what the Prophecy said." Garion stopped abruptly as a thought occurred to him. "You said it yourself. You're the Prophecy, aren't you?"
"It's a misleading term-,and I didn't say anything about winning or losing. "
"Isn't that what it means?"
"No. It means exactly what it says."
"What else could it mean?"
"You're getting more stubborn every day. Stop worrying so much about meanings and just do what you have to do. You almost had it right, back there. "
"If all you're going to do is talk in riddles, why bother with it at all? Why go to all the trouble of saying things that nobody's able to understand?"
"Because it's necessary to say it. The word determines the event. The word puts limits on the event and shapes it. Without the word, the event is merely a random happening. That's the whole purpose of what you call prophecy - to separate the significant from the random. "
"I don't understand."
"I didn't think you would, but you asked, after all. Now stop worrying about it. It has nothing to do with you."
Garion wanted to protest, but the voice was gone. The conversation, however, had made him feel a little better - not much,
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