"And then," Belgarath said, "though it may have been some trick of the flickering light coming from the burning village, methought I saw the hero's blade come all aflame. Again and again he struck, and each stroke was rewarded with rivers of bright blood and with shrieks of agony. And then, horror of horrors, a chance blow from the dragon's mighty talons hurled our champion back, and then he stumbled, and then he fell-full upon the body of his companion, who was still vainly striving to rise."

Groans of despair came from the throng crowding the throne room, even though the presence of the two heroes plainly said that they had survived.

"I admit it freely," Belgarath continued, "that I felt dark despair in my heart. But as the savage dragon sought to slay our champions, the one I may not say his name plunged his burning sword into the very eye of the loathsome beast."

There was a great roar of applause.

"Shrieking in pain, the dragon faltered and fell back. Our champions took advantage of this momentary opportunity to regain their feet. And then what a mighty battle ensued." Belgarath proceeded in loving detail to describe at least ten times more sword strokes than Garion and Zakath had actually delivered.

"If I'd swung that sword that many times, my arms would have fallen off," Zakath said.

"Never mind," Garion said. "He's enjoying himself."

"At last," Belgarath concluded, "unable to any longer bear the dreadful punishment, the dragon, which had never known fear before, turned and cravenly fled from the field, to pass, as your Majesty hath said, directly over this fair city toward its hidden lair, where the fear it hath learned this night will, me-thinks, canker far more than the wounds it received. It will, I believe, never return to thy kingdom, your Majesty, for, stupid though it may be, it will not willingly return to the place that hath been the site of so much pain. And that, your Majesty, is exactly what happened."

"Masterful!" the king said delightedly. And from the assemblage there in the throne room came thunderous applause. Belgarath turned and bowed, signaling to Garion and Zakath to do likewise, generously permitting them to share in the adulation.

The nobles of the court, some of them with actual tears in their eyes, pressed forward to congratulate the trio, Garion and Zakath for their heroism and Belgarath for his lurid description of it. Naradas, Garion noticed, stood at the king's elbow, his dead white eyes burning with hatred. "Brace yourselves," Gar-ion warned his friends. "Naradas is planning something."