"Belar!" Silk gasped. "Nothing can be that big!"

The peaks around them that had seemed so enormous shrank into insignificance. Standing quite alone in solitary splendor rose a mountain so huge and high that the mind could not comprehend it. It was perfectly symmetrical, a steep, white cone with sharply sloping sides. Its base was enormous, and its summit soared thousands of feet above nearby peaks. An absolute calm seemed to surround it, as if, having achieved everything that any mountain could, it simply existed.

"It's the highest peak in the world,'' Zakath said very quietly. "The scholars at the University of Melcene have calculated its height and compared that with the heights of peaks on the western continent. It's thousands of feet higher than any other mountain."

"Please, Zakath," Silk said with a pained look, "don't tell me how high."

Zakath looked puzzled.

"As you may have noticed, I 'm not really a very large person. Immensity depresses me. I’ll admit that your mountain is bigger than I am. I just don't want to know how much bigger."

Toth was gesturing to Durnik again.

"He says that Kell lies in the shadow of that mountain," the smith said.

"That's a little unspecific, Goodman," Sadi said wryly. "I'd guess that about half the continent lies in the shadow of that thing."

Beldin came soaring in again. "Big, isn't it?" he said, squinting at the huge white peak looming into the sky.

"We noticed," Belgarath replied. "What's on up ahead?"

"A fair amount of downhill going—at least until you get to the slopes of that monster there."

"I can see that from here."

"Congratulations. I found a place where you can get rid of your Grolim. Several places, actually."

"Exactly how do you mean 'get rid of,' uncle?" Polgara asked suspiciously.

"There are quite a few high cliffs alongside this track on the way down," he replied blandly. "Accidents do happen, you know."

"Out of the question. I didn't treat his wounds just to keep him going until you found time to throw him off a cliff.''

"Polgara, you're interfering with the practice of my religion."

She raised one eyebrow.

"I thought you knew. It's an article of the faith: 'Kill every Grolim you come across.' "

"I might even consider converting to that religion," Zakath said.

"Are you absolutely certain you're not Arendish?" Garion said to him.

Beldin sighed. "Since you're going to be such a spoilsport for this, Pol, I found a group of sheephenders below the snow line."

"Shepherds, uncle," she corrected.

"It means the same thing. If you really look at it, it's even the same word,"

"Shepherd sounds nicer."

"Nicer." He snorted. "Sheep are stupid, they smell bad, and they taste worse. Anybody who spends his life tending them is either defective or degenerate."

"You're in rare form this afternoon," Belgarath congratulated him.