The old man made a face. "Do it your way, Garion. Just don't drag it out too long. Let's not irritate Cyradis as well as Zandramas."

Garion nodded and moved past Sadi and Velvet, letting his mind push out toward that of Zandramas as he did. Her emotions were veering around wildly now, and it was clear that she was at a fever pitch. To draw things out any further would serve no purpose. He stopped at last in front of Silk and Eriond. "Keep your face straight," he warned the rat-faced little man. "Don't let Zandramas see any change of expression no matter what I seem to be doing.”

"Don't make any mistakes here, Garion," Silk warned. "I'm not looking for a sudden promotion of any kind.”

Garion nodded. It was nearly over now. He looked at Eriond, a young man who was almost his brother. “I 'm sorry about this, Eriond," he apologized in a low murmur. "You probably won't want to thank me for what I'm about to do."

"It's all right, Belgarion." Eriond smiled. "I’ve known it was going to happen for quite some time now. I'm ready."

And that clinched it. Eriond had answered the ubiquitous question "Are you ready?" for probably the last time. Eriond, it appeared, was and probably had been since the day he was born. Everything now slipped into place to fit together so tightly that nothing could ever take it apart again.

"Choose, Belgarion," Cyradis urged.

"I have, Cyradis," Garion said simply. He stretched out his hand and laid it on Eriond's shoulder. "Here is my choice. Here is the Child of Light."

“Perfect!” Belgarath exclaimed.

"Done!" the voice in Garion's mind agreed.

Garion felt a peculiar wrench followed by a kind of regretful emptiness. He was no longer the Child of Light. It was Eriond's responsibility now, but Garion knew that he still had one last responsibility of his own. He turned slowly, trying to make it look casual. The expression on the light-speckled face of Zandramas was a mixture of rage, fear, and frustration. It confirmed that what Garion had just done had been the right thing. He had made the proper choice. He had never actually done what he tried to do next before, although he had seen and felt Aunt Pol do it many times. This was not, however, a time for random experimentation. Carefully, he sent his mind out again, looking this time not so much for overall emotional responses from Zandramas as for specifics. He had to know exactly what she was going to try to do before she could put it into motion.