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Authors: David Eddings
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often churned his thoughts into turmoil. He knew that in all probability he should tell Aunt Pol that he was not asleep, but for some obscure reason he chose not to. Patiently, he began to sort through the notions and ideas surrounding that decision, trying to isolate the single thought which he knew must lie behind the choice not to speak. In his search, he touched that quiet corner where the other mind stayed. He could almost sense its sardonic amusement.
"Well?" he said silently to it.
"I see that you're finally awake," the other mind said to him. "No," Garion corrected rather meticulously, "actually a part of me is asleep, I think."
"That was the part that kept getting in the way. We can talk now. We have some things to discuss."
"Who are you?" Garion asked, absently following Aunt Pol's instructions to get back on his horse.
"I don't actually have a name."
"You're separate from me, though, aren't you? I mean, you're not just another part of me, are you?"
"No," the voice replied, "we're quite separate."
The horses were moving at a walk now, following Aunt Pol and Mister Wolf across the meadow.
"What do you want?" Garion asked.
"I need to make things come out the way they're supposed to. I've been doing that for a very long time now."
Garion considered that. Around him the wailing grew louder, and the chorus of moans and shrieks became more distinct. Filmy, half formed tatters of shape began to appear, floating across the grass toward the horses. "I'm going to go mad, aren't I?" he asked somewhat regretfully. "I'm not asleep like the others are, and the ghosts will drive me mad, won't they?"
"I doubt it," the voice answered. "You'll see some things you'd probably rather not see, but I don't think it will destroy your mind. You might even learn some things about yourself that will be useful later on."
"You're very old, aren't you?" Garion asked as the thought occurred to him.
"That term doesn't have any meaning in my case."
"Older than my grandfather?" Garion persisted.
"I knew him when he was a child. It might make you feel better to know that he was even more stubborn than you are. It took me a very long time to get him started in the direction he was supposed to go."
"Did you do it from inside his mind?"
"Naturally."
Garion noted that his horse was walking obliviously through one of the filmy images that was taking shape in front of him. "Then he knows you, doesn't he - if you were in his mind, I mean?"
"He didn't know I was there."
"I've always known you were there."
"You're different. That's what we need to talk about."
Rather suddenly, a woman's head appeared in the air directly in front of Garion's face. The eyes were bulging, and the mouth was agape in a soundless scream. The ragged, hacked-off stump of its neck streamed blood that seemed to dribble off into nowhere. "Kiss me," it croaked at him. Garion closed his eyes as his face passed through the head.
"You see," the voice pointed out conversationally. "It's not as bad as you thought it was going to be."
"In what way am I different?" Garion wanted to know.
"Something needs to be done, and you're the one who's going to do it. All the others have just been in preparation for you."
"What is it exactly that I have to do?"
"You'll know when the time comes. If you find out too soon, it might frighten you." The voice took on a somewhat wry note. "You're difficult enough to manage without additional complications."
"Why are we talking about it then?"
"You need to know why you have to do it. That might help you when the time comes."
"All right," Garion agreed.
"A very long time ago, something happened that wasn't supposed to happen," the voice in his mind began. "The universe came into existence for a reason, and it was moving toward that purpose smoothly. Everything was happening the way it was supposed to happen, but then something went wrong. It wasn't really a very big thing, but it just happened to be in the right place at the right
"Well?" he said silently to it.
"I see that you're finally awake," the other mind said to him. "No," Garion corrected rather meticulously, "actually a part of me is asleep, I think."
"That was the part that kept getting in the way. We can talk now. We have some things to discuss."
"Who are you?" Garion asked, absently following Aunt Pol's instructions to get back on his horse.
"I don't actually have a name."
"You're separate from me, though, aren't you? I mean, you're not just another part of me, are you?"
"No," the voice replied, "we're quite separate."
The horses were moving at a walk now, following Aunt Pol and Mister Wolf across the meadow.
"What do you want?" Garion asked.
"I need to make things come out the way they're supposed to. I've been doing that for a very long time now."
Garion considered that. Around him the wailing grew louder, and the chorus of moans and shrieks became more distinct. Filmy, half formed tatters of shape began to appear, floating across the grass toward the horses. "I'm going to go mad, aren't I?" he asked somewhat regretfully. "I'm not asleep like the others are, and the ghosts will drive me mad, won't they?"
"I doubt it," the voice answered. "You'll see some things you'd probably rather not see, but I don't think it will destroy your mind. You might even learn some things about yourself that will be useful later on."
"You're very old, aren't you?" Garion asked as the thought occurred to him.
"That term doesn't have any meaning in my case."
"Older than my grandfather?" Garion persisted.
"I knew him when he was a child. It might make you feel better to know that he was even more stubborn than you are. It took me a very long time to get him started in the direction he was supposed to go."
"Did you do it from inside his mind?"
"Naturally."
Garion noted that his horse was walking obliviously through one of the filmy images that was taking shape in front of him. "Then he knows you, doesn't he - if you were in his mind, I mean?"
"He didn't know I was there."
"I've always known you were there."
"You're different. That's what we need to talk about."
Rather suddenly, a woman's head appeared in the air directly in front of Garion's face. The eyes were bulging, and the mouth was agape in a soundless scream. The ragged, hacked-off stump of its neck streamed blood that seemed to dribble off into nowhere. "Kiss me," it croaked at him. Garion closed his eyes as his face passed through the head.
"You see," the voice pointed out conversationally. "It's not as bad as you thought it was going to be."
"In what way am I different?" Garion wanted to know.
"Something needs to be done, and you're the one who's going to do it. All the others have just been in preparation for you."
"What is it exactly that I have to do?"
"You'll know when the time comes. If you find out too soon, it might frighten you." The voice took on a somewhat wry note. "You're difficult enough to manage without additional complications."
"Why are we talking about it then?"
"You need to know why you have to do it. That might help you when the time comes."
"All right," Garion agreed.
"A very long time ago, something happened that wasn't supposed to happen," the voice in his mind began. "The universe came into existence for a reason, and it was moving toward that purpose smoothly. Everything was happening the way it was supposed to happen, but then something went wrong. It wasn't really a very big thing, but it just happened to be in the right place at the right
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