"She's terribly dangerous, you know."
"So are we," Belgarath said. "Where's this book you stole?"
"It's hidden in my laboratory. The university officials are very narrow about people from one department pilfering from other people's libraries."
"Officials are always narrow." Beldin shrugged. "It's one of the qualifications for the job. Let's go back to your laboratory. My ancient friend here has to read that book."
Senji limped toward the door and back out into the hallway again.
The thin man in ecclesiastical robes had somehow managed to get his desk back where it belonged and he sat at it again. Garion noticed that his eyes were a little wild.
"We'll be leaving now," Belgarath told him. "Any objections?"
The thin man shrank back.
"Wise decision," Beldin said.
It was late afternoon by now, and the autumn sun streamed down on the well-maintained lawn.
"I wonder if the others have traced down Naradas yet," Garion said as they walked back toward the College of Applied Alchemy.
"More than likely," Belgarath replied. "Silk's people are very efficient."
They entered the reinforced building again to find the halls full of smoke and several more splintered doors lying in the corridor.
Senji sniffed at the smoke. "They're putting in too much sulfur," he noted professionally.
"A fellow we ran into was saying exactly the same thing," Garion told him. "It was right after he blew himself up, I think."
"I've told them over and over again," Senji said. "A little sulfur is necessary, but put in too much and—poof!' ‘
"It looks as if there's been a fair amount of poofing going on in here," Beldin said, fanning at the smokey air in front of his face with one hand.
"That happens frequently when you're an alchemist," Senji replied. "You get used to it." He laughed. "And you never know what's going to happen. One idiot actually turned glass into steel."
Belgarath stopped. "He did what?"
"He turned glass into steel—or something very much like it. It was still transparent, but it wouldn't bend, break, or splinter. It was the hardest stuff I’ve ever seen."
Belgarath smacked his palm against his forehead.
"Steady," Beldin told him. Then he turned to Senji. "Does this fellow happen to remember the process?"
"I doubt it. He burned all his notes and then went into a monastery.''
Belgarath was making strangling noises.
"Do you have any idea what a process like that would be worth?" Beldin asked Senji. "Glass is just about the cheapest stuff in the world—it's only melted sand, after all—and you can mold it into any shape you want. That particular process might just have been worth more than all the gold in the world."
Senji blinked.
"Never mind," Beldin said to him. "You're a pure scholar, remember? You're not interested in money, are you?"
Senji's hands began to shake.
They climbed the stairs and reentered Senji's cluttered laboratory. The alchemist closed and locked the door, then limped to a large cabinet near the window. Grunting, he moved it out from the wall a few inches, knelt, and reached behind it. The book was not thick and it was bound in black leather. Belgarath's hands were shaking as he carried it to a table, sat, and opened it.
"I couldn't really make very much out of it," Senji confessed to Beldin. "I think whoever wrote it might have been insane."
"He was," the hunchback replied.
"You know who he was?"
Beldin nodded. "Torak," he said shortly.
"Torak's just a myth—something the Angaraks dreamed up."
"Tell that to him," Beldin said, pointing at Garion.
Senji swallowed hard, staring at Garion. "Did you really—I mean—?"
"Yes," Garion answered sadly. Oddly enough, he found that he still regretted what had happened at Cthol Mishrak over a dozen years ago.
"It's uncut!" Belgarath exclaimed triumphantly. "Somebody copied from the original before Torak had time to mutilate it. The missing passages are all here. Listen to this: 'And it shall come to pass that the Child of Light and the Child of Dark shall meet in the City of Endless Night. But that is not the place of the final meeting, for the choice will not be made there, and the Spirit of Dark shall flee. Know, moreover, that a new Child of Dark shall arise in the east.' ''
"Why would Torak cut that passage?" Garion asked, puzzled.
"The implications of it aren't good—at least not for him," Belgarath replied. "The fact that there was going to be a new Child of Dark hints rather strongly that he wouldn't survive the meeting at Cthol Mishrak."
"Not only that," Beldin added, "even if he did survive, be was going to be demoted. That might have been just a little hard for him to swallow."
Belgarath quickly leafed through several pages.
"Are you sure you're not missing things?" Beldin asked him.
"I know what that copy at Ashaba said, Beldin. I have a very good memory."
"Really?" Beldin's tone was sardonic.
"Just let it lie." Belgarath read another passage rapidly. ‘‘I can see why he cut this one," he said. " 'Behold, the stone which holds the power of the Dark Spirit will not reveal itself to that Child of Dark who shall come to the City of Endless Night, but will yield instead only to Him who is yet to come.' " He scratched at his beard. "If I'm reading this right, the Sardion concealed itself from Torak because he wasn't intended to be the ultimate instrument of the Dark Prophecy."
"I imagine that hurt his ego just a little." Beldin laughed.
But Belgarath had already moved on. His eyes suddenly widened, and his face paled slightly. " 'For lo,' " he read, " 'only one who hath put his hand to Cthrag Yaska shall be permitted to touch Cthrag Sardius. And in the moment of that touch, all that he is or might have become shall be sacrificed, and he shall become the Vessel of the Spirit of Dark. Seek ye, therefore, the son of the Child of Light, for he shall be our champion in the Place Which Is No More. And should he be chosen, he shall rise above all others and shall bestride the world with Cthrag Yaska in one hand and Cthrag Sardius in the other, and thus shall all that was divided be made one again, and he will have lordship and dominion over all things until the end of days."
Garion was thunderstruck. "'So that's what they mean by the word 'sacrifice'!" he exclaimed. "Zandramas isn't going to kill Geran."