He was at Faldor's farm again. Even in his sleep he could hear the ringing of Durnik's hammer and smell the odors coming from Aunt Pol's kitchen. Rundorig was there - and Zubrette - and Doroon - and there was Brill, creeping around a corner. He half woke and turned restlessly in the royal bed. That wasn't possible. Doroon was dead, drowned in the River Mardu, and Brill had vanished forever over the parapet of mile-high Rak Cthol.

And then he was in the palace at Sthiss Tor, and Salmissra, her blatant nudity glowing through her filmy gown, was touching his face with her cold fingers.

But Salmissra was no longer a woman. He had watched her himself as she had changed into a serpent.

Grul the Eldrak hammered at the frozen ground with his iron-shod club, bellowing, "Come 'Grat, fight!" and Ce'Nedra was screaming. In the chaotic world of dreams half mixed with memories he saw Ctuchik, his face contorted with horror, exploding once more into nothingness in the hanging turret at Rak Cthol.

And then he stood once again in the decaying ruin of Cthol Mishrak, his sword ablaze, and watched as Torak raised his arms to the rolling cloud, weeping tears of fire, and once again he heard the stricken God's final cry, "Mother!"

He stirred, half rousing and shuddering as he always did when that dream recurred, but dipped almost immediately into sleep again.

He was standing on the deck of Barak's ship just off the Mallorean coast, listening as King Anheg explained why Barak was chained to the mast.

"We had to do it, Belgarath," the coarse-faced monarch said mournfully. "Right during the middle of that storm, he turned into a bear! He drove the crew to row toward Mallorea all night long, and then, just before daybreak, he turned back into a man again."

"Unchain him, Anheg," Belgarath said disgustedly. "He's not going to turn into a bear again - not as long as Garion's safe and well." Garion rolled over and sat up. That had been a startling revelation.

There had been a purpose behind Barak's periodic alterations.

"You're Garion's defender," Belgarath had explained to the big man. "That's why you were born. Any time Garion was in mortal danger, you changed into a bear in order to protect him."

"You mean to say that I'm a sorcerer?" Barak had demanded incredulously.

"Hardly. The shape-change isn't all that difficult, and you didn't do it consciously. The Prophecy did the work, not you."

Barak had spent the rest of the voyage back to Mishrak ac Thull trying to come up with a tastefully understated way to add that concept to his coat of arms.