‘What did she say?’ Silk asked.
‘She said that wolves do the same thing,’ Garion translated. Then he remembered something. ‘I was talking with Hettar once, and he said that horses are the same way. They don’t think of themselves as individuals – only as parts of the herd.’
‘Would it really be possible for people to do something like that?’ Velvet asked incredulously.
‘There’s one way to find out,’ Polgara replied.
‘No, Pol,’ Belgarath said very firmly. ‘It’s too dangerous. You could be drawn into it and never be able to get back out.’
‘No, Father,’ she replied quite calmly. ‘The Dals may not let me in, but they won’t hurt me or keep me in if I want to leave.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I just do.’ And she closed her eyes.
CHAPTER SIX
THEY STOOD WATCHING her apprehensively as she lifted her flawless face. Eyes closed, she concentrated. Then a strange expression came to her features.
‘Well?’ Belgarath asked.
‘Quiet, Father. I’m listening.’
He stood drumming his fingers impatiently on the back of a chair, and the others watched breathlessly.
At last Polgara opened her eyes with a vaguely regretful sigh. ‘It’s enormous,’ she said very quietly. ‘It has every thought these people have ever had – and every memory. It even remembers the beginning, and every one of them shares in it.’
‘And so did you?’ Belgarath asked her.
‘For a moment, father. They let me catch a glimpse of it. There are parts of it that are blocked off, though.’
‘We might have guessed that,’ Beldin said, scowling. ‘They’re not going to provide access to anything that would give us the slightest advantage. They’ve been perched on that fence since the beginning of time.’
Polgara sighed again and sat on a low divan.
‘Are you all right, Pol?’ Durnik asked with some concern.
‘I’m fine, Durnik,’ she replied. ‘It’s just that for a moment I saw something I’ve never experienced before, and then they asked me to leave.’
Silk’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Do you think they’d object if we left this house and had a look around?’
‘No. They won’t mind.’
‘I’d say that’s our next step then,’ the little man suggested. ‘We know that the Dals are the ones who are going to make the final choice – at least Cyradis is – but this oversoul of theirs is probably going to provide her some direction.’
‘That’s a very interesting term, Kheldar,’ Beldin noted.
‘What is?’
‘Oversoul. How did you come up with it?’
‘I’ve always had a way with words.’
‘There may be some hope for you after all. Someday we’ll have to have a long talk.’
‘I shall place myself at your disposal, Beldin,’ Silk said with a florid bow. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘since the Dals are going to decide things, I think we ought to get to know them better. If they’re leaning in the wrong direction, maybe we can sway them back.’
‘Typically devious,’ Sadi murmured, ‘but probably not a bad idea. We should split up, though. We’ll be able to cover more ground that way.’
‘Right after breakfast,’ Belgarath agreed.
‘But, Grandfather,’ Garion protested, impatient to be off.
‘I’m hungry, Garion, and I don’t think well when I’m hungry.’
‘That might explain a lot,’ Beldin noted blandly. ‘We should have fed you more often when you were younger.’
‘You can be terribly offensive sometimes, do you know that?’
‘Why, yes, as a matter of fact I do.’
The same group of young women brought breakfast to them, and Velvet drew aside the large-eyed girl with the glossy brown hair and spoke with her briefly. Then the blond girl returned to the table. ‘Her name is Onatel,’ she reported, ‘and she’s invited Ce’Nedra and me to visit the place where she and the other young women work. Young women talk a great deal, so we might pick up something useful.’
‘Wasn’t Onatel the name of that seeress we met on the Isle of Verkat?’ Sadi asked.
‘It’s a common name among Dalasian women,’ Zakath told him. ‘Onatel was one of their most honored seeresses.’
‘But the Isle of Verkat is in Cthol Murgos,’ Sadi pointed out.
‘It’s not all that strange,’ Belgarath said. ‘We’ve had some fairly strong hints that the Dals and the slave-race of Cthol Murgos are closely related and keep in more or less constant contact. This is just some additional confirmation.’
The morning sun was warm and bright as they emerged from the house and strolled off in various directions. Garion and Zakath had removed their armor and left their swords behind, although Garion prudently carried the Orb in a pouch tied to his belt. The two of them walked across a dewy lawn toward a group of larger buildings near the center of the city.
‘You’re always very careful with that stone, aren’t you, Garion?’ Zakath asked.
‘I’m not sure that careful is the exact word,’ Garion replied, ‘but then again, maybe it is – in a broader sense. You see, the Orb is very dangerous, and I don’t want it hurting people by accident.’
‘What does it do?’
‘I’m not really sure. I’ve never seen it do anything to anybody – except possibly Torak – but that might have been the sword.’
‘And you’re the only one in the world who can touch the Orb?’
‘Hardly. Eriond carried it around for a couple of years. He kept trying to give it to people. They were mostly Alorns, so they knew better than to take it.’
‘Then you and Eriond are the only people who can touch it?’
‘My son can,’ Garion said. ‘I put his hand on it right after he was born. It was very happy to meet him.’
‘A stone? Happy?’
‘It’s not like other stones.’ Garion smiled. ‘It can be a little silly now and then. It gets carried away by its own enthusiasm. I have to be very careful about what I think sometimes. If it decides I really want something, it might just take independent action.’ He laughed. ‘Once I was speculating about the time when Torak cracked the world, and it proceeded to tell me how to patch it.’