About half an hour before noon, Garion, in response to a summons from Aunt Pol, walked down a long stone corridor toward a room a few steps from the huge, carved doors that gave entrance into the Hall of the Rivan King. He was wearing his best doublet and hose, and his soft leather half boots had been brushed until they glowed. Aunt Pol wore a deep blue robe, cowled and belted at the waist. For once Belgarath, also blue-robed, did not look rumpled or spotted. The old man's face was very serious; as he and Aunt Pol spoke together, there was no hint of the banter that usually marked their conversation. Seated quietly in the corner of the little room, Errand, dressed all in white linen, gravely watched.

"You look very nice, Garion," Aunt Pol said, reaching out to smooth his sandy hair back from his forehead.

"Shouldn't we go inside?" Garion asked. He had seen others, grayclad Rivans and the more brightly garbed visitors entering the hall.

"We will, Garion," she replied. "All in good time." She turned to Belgarath. "How long?" she asked.

"Another quarter-hour or so," he replied.

"Is everything ready?"

"Ask Garion," the old man told her. "I've taken care of everything I can. The rest is up to him."

Aunt Pol turned to Garion then, her eyes very serious and the white lock at her brow gleaming silver in the darkness of her hair. "Well, Garion," she asked, "are you ready?"

He looked at her, baffled. "I had the oddest dream last night," he said. "Everyone kept asking me that same question. What does it mean, Aunt Pol? Am I ready for what?"

"That will become clearer in a bit," Belgarath told him. "Take out your amulet. You'll wear it on the outside of your clothes today."

"I thought it was supposed to be out of sight."

"Today's different," the old man replied. "As a matter of fact, today's unlike any day I've ever seen - and I've seen a lot of them."

"Because it's Erastide?"

"That's part of it." Belgarath reached inside his robe and drew out his own silver medallion. He glanced at it briefly. "It's getting a little worn," he noted. Then he smiled. "-but then, so am I, I suppose."

Aunt Pol drew out her amulet. She and Belgarath each reached out to take Garion's hands and then to join their own.

"It's been a long time coming, Polgara," Belgarath said.

"Yes it has, father," Aunt Pol agreed.

"Any regrets?"

"I can live with them, Old Wolf"

"Let's go in then."

Garion started toward the door.

"Not you, Garion," Aunt Pol told him. "You'll wait here with Errand. You two will come in later."

"You'll send somebody for us?" he asked her. "What I mean is, how will we know when we're supposed to come in?"

"You'll know," Belgarath told him. And then they left him alone with Errand.