With a bland smile Chamdar slapped her sharply across the face. "You really must learn to control your tongue, Polgara," he said. Garion's brain seemed to explode. Dimly he saw Durnik and the others being restrained by the legionnaries, but no soldier seemed to consider him a danger. He started toward his enemy without thinking, reaching for his dagger.

"Not that way!" It was that dry voice in his mind that had always been there, but the voice was no longer passive, disinterested.

"I'll kill him!" Garion said silently in the vaults of his brain.

"Not that way!" the voice warned again. "They won't let you - not with your knife. "

"How, then?"

"Remember what Belgarath said - the Will and the Word."

"I don't know how I can't do that. "

"You are who you are. I'll show you. Look!" Unbidden and so clearly that it was almost as if he were watching it happen, the image of the God Torak writhing in the fire of Aldur's Orb rose before his eyes. He saw Torak's face melting and his fingers aflame. Then the face shifted and altered until it was the face of the dark watcher whose mind had been linked with his for as long as he could remember. He felt a terrible force building in him as the image of Chamdar wrapped in seething flame stood before him.

"Nowl " the voice commanded him. "Do it!"

It required a blow. His rage would be satisfied with nothing less. He leaped at the smirking Grolim so quickly that none of the legionnaires could stop him. He swung his right arm, and at the instant his palm struck Chamdar's scarred left cheek, he felt all the force that had built in him surge out from the silvery mark on his palm. "Burn!" he commanded, willing it to happen.

Taken off guard, Chamdar jerked back. A momentary anger began to appear on his face, and then his eyes widened with an awful realization. For an instant he stared at Garion in absolute horror, and then his face contorted with agony. "No!" he cried out hoarsely, and then his cheek began to smoke and seethe where the mark on Garion's hand had touched it. Wisps of smoke drifted from his black robe as if it had suddenly been laid on a red-hot stove. Then he shrieked and clutched at his face. His fingers burst into flame. He shrieked again and fell writhing to the damp earth.

"Stand still!" It was Aunt Pol's voice this time, sounding sharply inside Garion's head.

Chamdar's entire face was engulfed in flames now, and his shrieks echoed in the dim wood. The legionnaires recoiled from the burning man, and Garion suddenly felt sick. He started to turn away.