"No.! You're here to watch this time, not to act. Now stand there and keep your eyes open,"
Garion stared in sudden disbelief as Eriond, his pale blond curls gleaming in the cruel light of the Temple, entered by way of the same door through which the slave had just been dragged. The young man's face bore an expression of almost regretful determination as he entered and walked directly toward the astonished priest. "I'm sorry," he said quite firmly, "but you can't do this any more."
"Seize this desecrator," the priest at the altar shouted. "It shall be his heart which shall sizzle in the coals!"
A dozen Grolims leaped to their feet, but suddenly froze, caught in that same stasis which locked Garion's muscles.
"This can't continue," Eriond said in that same determined voice. "I know how much it means to all of you, but it just can't go on. Someday—very soon, I think—you'll all understand."
There was no sound, no rushing surge such as Garion had come to expect, but the yawning fire pit before the altar suddenly roared to a furnace note, sending leaping flames and glowing sparks shooting upward to lick at the very vaults of the ceiling. The suffocatingly hot Sanctum suddenly cooled as if a cleansing breeze had just swept through it. Then the seething fire guttered briefly like a dying candle— and went out. The glowing brazier at the side of the altar also flared into blinding incandescence, and its steel body grew suddenly soft, drooping and sagging as it began to collapse under its own weight. With a flicker, it also went out.
The priest dropped his knife in horror and leaped to the still-glowing brazier. Irrationally, he put forth his hands as if he would force the softened metal back into its original shape, but he howled in pain as the red-hot steel seared deeply into his flesh.
Eriond regarded the dead fires with a look of satisfaction, then turned to the stunned Grolims still holding the naked slave. "Let that man go," he told them.
They stared at him.
"You might as well," Eriond said almost conversationally. "You can't sacrifice him without the fires, and the fires won't burn any more. No matter what you do, you won't ever be able to start them again."
"Done!" the voice in Garion's mind said in a tone of such exultation that it buckled his knees.
The burned priest, still moaning and cradling his charred hands at his chest, raised his ashen face. "Seize him!" he shrieked, pointing at Eriond with a blackened hand. "Seize him and take him to Chabat!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
There was no longer any need for stealth. Alarm bells rang in every quarter of the Temple, and frightened Grolims scurried this way and that, shouting contradictory orders to each other. Garion ran among them, desperately looking for Belgarath and Silk.As he rounded a corner, a wild-faced Grolim caught him by the arm. "Were you there in the Sanctum when it happened?" he demanded.
"No," Garion lied, trying to free his arm.
"They say that he was ten feet tall, and that he blasted a dozen priests into nothingness before he extinguished the fires."
"Oh?" Garion said, still trying to free himself from the Grolim's grasp.
"Some people say that it was Belgarath the Sorcerer himself."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Who else would have that much power?" The Grolim stopped suddenly, his eyes going very wide. "You know what this means, don't you?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"What?"
"The Sanctum will have to be rededicated, and that requires Grolim blood. Dozens of us will have to die before the Sanctum is purified."
"I really have to go," Garion told him, tugging at the arm the man held fast in both hands.
"Chabat will wade to the hips in our blood," the priest moaned hysterically, ignoring Garion's words.
There was really no choice. Things were much too urgent for diplomacy. Garion feigned a frightened expression as he looked past the babbling Grolim's shoulder. "Is that her coming?" he whispered hoarsely.
The Grolim turned his head to look in fright back over his shoulder. Garion carefully measured him and then smashed his fist into the unprotected side of the terrified man's face. The Grolim slammed back against the wall, his eyes glazed and vacant. Then he collapsed in a heap on the floor.
"Neat," Silk said from a dark doorway a few yards up the hall, "but the reason for it escapes me."
"I couldn't get loose from him," Garion explained, bending to take hold of the unconscious man. He dragged him into a shadowy alcove and propped him up in a sitting position. "Have you got any idea where Grandfather is?"
"He's in here," Silk replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the door behind him. "What happened?"
"I'll tell you in a minute. Let's get in out of sight."
They went through the doorway to find Belgarath seated on the edge of a table. "What's going on out there?" he demanded.
"I found Eriond."
"Good."
"No, not really. He went into the Sanctum just as the Grolims were about to sacrifice a slave and put out the fires."
"He did what?
"I think it was him. I was there and I know that it wasn't me. He just walked in and told them that they couldn't sacrifice people any more, and then the fires went out. Grandfather, he didn't make a sound when he did it—no surge, no noise, nothing."
"Are you sure it was him? I mean—it wasn't something natural?"
Garion shook his head. "No. The fires flared up and then went out like blown-out candles. There were other things going on, too. The voice talked to me and I couldn't even move a muscle. The Grolims who were dragging the slave to the altar just let him go when Eriond told them to. Then he told them all that they won't ever be able to relight the fires."
"Where's the boy now?"
"They're taking him to Chabat."
"Couldn't you stop them?"
"I was told not to." Garion tapped his forehead.
"I should have expected that," Belgarath said irritably. "We'd better go warn Pol and the others. We may have to free Eriond and then fight our way out of here." He opened the door, looked out into the hallway, and motioned Garion and Silk to follow him.
Polgara's face was deathly pale when the three of them re-entered the room where she and the others were waiting. "You didn't find him," she said. It was not exactly a question.
"Garion did," Belgarath replied.
She turned to Garion. "Why isn't he with you, then?" she demanded.