"I didn't ask to be a princess either."

"It's not the same. Being a king or a princess is what one is. Being a sorcerer has to do with what one does."

"I really don't see that much difference," she objected stubbornly.

"I can make things happen," he told her. "Awful things, usually."

"So?" she said maddeningly. "I can make awful things happen too or at least I could back in Tol Honeth. One word from me could have sent a servant to the whipping-post - or to the headsman's block. I didn't do it of course, but I could have. Power is power, Garion. The results are the same. You don't have to hurt people if you don't want to."

"It just happens sometimes. It's not that I want to do it." The throbbing had become a nagging thing, almost like a dull headache.

"Then you have to learn to control it."

"Now you sound like Aunt Pol."

"She's trying to help you," the princess said. "She keeps trying to get you to do what you're going to have to do eventually anyway. How many more people are you going to have to burn up before you finally accept what she says?"

"You didn't have to say that." Garion was stung deeply by her words.

"Yes," she told him, "I think I did. You're lucky I'm not your aunt. I wouldn't put up with your foolishness the way Lady Polgara does."

"You don't understand," Garion muttered sullenly.

"I understand much better than you think, Garion. You know what your problem is? You don't want to grow up. You want to keep on being a boy forever. You can't, though; nobody can. No matter how much power you have - whether you're an emperor or a sorcerer - you can't stop the years from going by. I realized that a long time ago, but then I'm probably much smarter than you are." Then without any word of explanation, she raised up on her toes and kissed him lightly full on the lips.

Garion blushed and lowered his head in embarrassment.

"Tell me," Ce'Nedra said, toying with the sleeve of his tunic, "was Queen Salmissra as beautiful as they say?"

"She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life," Garion answered without thinking.

The princess caught her breath sharply. "I hate you," she cried from between clenched teeth. Then she turned and ran sobbing in search of Aunt Pol.

Garion stared after her in perplexity. He turned then to stare moodily out at the river and the drifting ash. The tingling in his palm was becoming intolerable, and he scratched at it, digging in with his fingernails.

"You'll just make it sore, " the voice in his mind said.

"It itches. I can't stand it."

"Stop being a baby. "

"What's causing it?"

"Do you mean to say you really don't know? You've got further to go than I thought. Put your right hand on the amulet. "

"Why?"