But there was a strange new voice from the doorway. Poppi, her furry little face contorted with the effort, was struggling with something. "M-m.m-m-," she stammered. Her mouth twisted, and she tried again. "M-m-m-m-." It seemed to be the hardest thing she had ever tried to do. She took a deep breath and tried once more. "M-m-m-motherrr," Poppi said.

With a low cry, Vordai rushed to the little creature, knelt, and embraced her.

"Mother," Poppi said again. It was clearer this time.

From outside the cottage there came a growing babble of small, squeaky voices, all repeating, "Mother, mother, mother." The excited fenlings converged on the cottage, their voices swelling as more and more of them emerged from the swamps.

Vordai wept.

"You'll have to teach them, of course," Belgarath said wearily. "I gave them the ability, but they don't know very many words yet."

Vordai looked at him with tears streaming down her face. "Thank you, Belgarath," she said in a faltering voice.

The old man shrugged. "Something for something," he replied. "Wasn't that the bargain?"

It was Tupik who led them from the fens. The little creature's chirping to his fellows, however, now had words mixed in with it - faltering, often badly mispronounced, but words nonetheless.

Garion thought for a long time before he spoke, wrestling with an idea as he pushed on his pole. "Grandfather," he said finally.

"Yes, Garion," the old man replied from where he rested in the stern of their boat.

"You knew all along, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"That it was possible that you couldn't make things happen any more?"

Belgarath stared at him. "Where did you get that idea?" he asked.

"Aunt Pol said that after you got sick last winter, you might have lost all your power."

"She said what?"

"She said that "

"I heard you." The old man was frowning, his face creased with thought. "That possibility never even occurred to me," he admitted. Suddenly he blinked and his eyes opened very wide. "You know, she might have been right. The illness could have had that sort of effect. What an amazing thing."

"You didn't feel any - well - weaker?"

"What? No, of course not." Belgarath was still frowning, turning the idea over in his mind. "What an amazing thing," he repeated, and then he suddenly laughed.

"I don't see what's so funny."

"Is that what's been bothering you and your Aunt for all these months? The two of you have been tiptoeing around me as if I were made out of thin glass."

"We were afraid the Angaraks might find out, and we didn't dare say anything to you because-"

"Because you were afraid it might make me doubt my abilities?"

Garion nodded.

"Maybe in the long run it wasn't a bad idea at that. I certainly didn't need any doubts plaguing me this morning."

"Was it terribly difficult?"

"Moderately so, yes. I wouldn't want to have to try that sort of thing every day."