Guardians of the West

"You're a very sound sleeper," a voice that seemed to be inside his mind said to him.

"I was dreaming," Errand replied.

"I noticed that," the voice said drily. "Pull on some clothes. I need you in the throne room."

Errand obediently got out of bed and pulled on his tunic and his short, soft Sendarian boots.

"Be quiet," the voice told him. "Let's not wake up Polgara and Durnik."

Quietly they left the apartment and went down the long, deserted corridors to the Hall of the Rivan King, the vast throne room where, three years before, Errand had placed the Orb of Aldur in Garion's hand and had forever changed the young man's life.

The huge door creaked slightly as Errand pulled it open, and he heard a voice inside call out, "Who's there?"

"It's only me, Belgarion," Errand told him.

The great Hall was illuminated by the soft blue radiance of the Orb of Aldur, standing on the pommel of the huge sword of Riva, hanging point downward above the throne.

"What are you doing wandering around so late, Errand?" Garion asked him. The Rivan King was sprawled on his throne with his leg cocked up over one of the arms.

"I was told to come here," Errand replied.

Garion looked at him strangely. "Told? Who told you?"

"You know." Errand said, stepping inside the Hall and closing the door. "Him."

Garion blinked. "Does he talk to you, too?"

"This is the first time. I've known about him, though."

"If he's never-" Garion broke off and looked sharply up at the Orb, his eyes startled. The soft blue light of the stone had suddenly changed to a deep, angry red. Errand could very clearly hear a strange sound. For all of the time he had carried the Orb, his ears had been filled with the crystalline shimmer of its song, but now that shimmer seemed to have taken on an ugly iron overtone, as if the stone had encountered something or someone that filled it with a raging anger.

"Beware!" that voice which they both heard quite clearly said to them in tones which could not be ignored. "Beware Zandramas!"

CHAPTER FIVE

As soon as it was daylight, the two of them went in search of Belgarath. Errand could sense that Garion was troubled and he himself felt that the warning they had received concerned a matter of such importance that everything else must be set aside in the face of it. They had not really spoken much about it during those dark, silent hours while they sat together in the Hall of the Rivan King, waiting for the first light to touch the eastern horizon. Instead, they had both watched the Orb of Aldur closely, but the stone, after that one strange moment of crimson anger, had returned to its customary azure glow.They found Belgarath seated before a recently rekindled fire in a low-beamed hall close to the royal kitchens. On the table not far from where he sat lay a large chunk of bread and a generous slab of cheese. Errand looked at the bread and cheese, realizing suddenly that he was hungry and wondering if Belgarath might be willing to share some of his breakfast. The old sorcerer seemed lost in thought as he gazed into the dancing flames, and his stout gray cloak was drawn about his shoulders, though the hall was not cold.

"You two are up early." he noted as Garion and Errand entered and came to join him by the fireside.

"So are you, Grandfather," Garion said.

"I had a peculiar dream," the old man replied. "I've been trying to shake it off for several hours now. For some reason I dreamed that the Orb had turned red."

"It did," Errand told him quietly.

Belgarath looked at him sharply.

"Yes. We both saw it, Grandfather," Garion said. "We were in the throne room a few hours ago, and the Orb suddenly turned red. Then that voice that I've got in here-" He tapped his forehead. "-said to beware of Zandramas."

"Zandramas?" Belgarath said with a puzzled look. "Is that a name or a thing or what?"

"I don't really know, Grandfather," Garion replied, "but both Errand and I heard it, didn't we, Errand?" Errand nodded, his eyes still on the bread and cheese.

"What were the two of you doing in the throne room at that hour?" Belgarath asked, his eyes very intent.

"I was asleep," Garion answered. Then his face flushed slightly. "Well, sort of asleep. Ce'Nedra and I talked until quite late. We haven't talked very much lately, and so we had a lot of things to say to each other. Anyway, he told me to get up and go to the throne room."

Belgarath looked at Errand. " And you?"

"He woke me up," Errand replied, "and he-"

"Hold it," Belgarath said sharply. "Who woke you up?"

"The same one who woke Garion."

"You know who he is?"

"Yes."

"And you know what he is?"

Errand nodded.

"Has he ever spoken to you before?"

"No."

"But you knew immediately who and what he is?"

"Yes. He told me that he needed me in the throne room, so I got dressed and went. When I got there, the Orb turned red, and the voice said to beware of Zandramas."

Belgarath was frowning. "You're both absolutely positive that the Orb changed color?"

"Yes, Grandfather," Garion assured him, "and it sounded different, too. It usually makes this kind of ringing noise -like the sound a bell makes after you strike it. This was altogether different."

" And you're sure that it turned red? I mean it wasn't just a darker shade of blue or something?"

"No, Grandfather. It was definitely red."

Belgarath got up out of his chair, his face suddenly grim. "Come with me," he said shortly and started toward the door.

"Where are we going?" Garion asked.

"To the library. I need to check on something."

"On what?"

"Let's wait until I read it. This is important, and I want to be sure that I've got it right."

As he passed the table, Errand picked up the piece of cheese and broke off part of it. He took a large bite as he followed Belgarath and Garion from the room. They went quickly through the dim, torchlit corridors and up a steep, echoing flight of narrow stone steps. In the past few years Belgarath's expression had become rather whimsical and touched with a sort of lazy self-indulgence. All trace of that was gone now, and his eyes were intent and very alert. When they reached the library, the old man took a pair of candles from a dusty table and lighted them from the torch hanging in an iron ring just outside the door. Then he came back inside and set one of the candles down. "Close the door, Garion," he said, still holding the other candle. "We don't want to be disturbed."