UL sighed.
"Wilt thou and thy sons, however, lend of your power to my instrument so that he may cross the boundary?"
UL looked startled at that.
"Thus will the boundary be protected, and thy obligation shall be met. It can happen in no other way."
"Let it be as thou wilt," UL agreed. He turned then and a peculiar look passed between the father of the Gods and his eldest son, Aldur. Aldur, still bathed in blue light, turned from his sad contemplation of his dead brother toward Aunt Pol, who was still bowed over Durnik's body.
"Be comforted, my daughter," he told her. "His sacrifice was for thee and for all mankind."
"That is slight comfort, Master," she replied, her eyes full of tears. "This was the best of men."
"All men die, my daughter, the best as well as the worst. In thy life thou halt seen this many times."
"Yes, Master, but this is different."
"In what way, beloved Polgara?" Aldur seemed to be pressing her for some reason.
Aunt Pol bit her lip. "Because I loved him, Master," she replied finally.
The faintest touch of a smile appeared on Aldur's lips. "Is that so difficult to say, my daughter?"
She could not answer, but bowed again over Durnik's lifeless form.
"Wouldst thou have us restore this man to thee, my daughter?" Aldur asked then.
Her face came up sharply. "That isn't possible, Master," she said. "Please don't toy with my grief like this."
"Let us however, consider that it may be possible," he told her. "Wouldst thou have us restore him?"
"With all my heart, Master."
"To what end? What task hast thou for this man that demands his restoration?"
She bit her lip again. "To be my husband, Master," she blurted finally with a trace of defiance in her voice.
"And was that also so very difficult to say? Art thou sure, however, that this love of throe derives not from thy grief, and that once this good man is restored, thy mind might not turn away from him? He is, thou must admit, most ordinary."
"Durnik has never been ordinary," she flared with sudden heat. "He is the best and bravest man in the world."
"I meant him no disrespect, Polgara, but no power loth infuse him. The force of the Will and the Word is not in him."
"Is that so important, Master?"
"Marriage must be a joining of equals, my daughter. How could this good, brave man be husband to thee, so long as thy power remains?"
She looked at him helplessly.
"Couldst thou, Polgara, limit thyself? Wouldst thou become his equal? With power no more than his?"
She stared at him, hesitated, then blurted the one word, "Yes."
Garion was shocked - not so much by Aunt Pol's acceptance but rather by Aldur's request. Aunt Pol's power was central to her very being. To remove it from her would leave her with nothing. What would she be without it? How could she even live without it? It was a cruel price to demand, and Garion had believed that Aldur was a kindly God.
"I will accept thy sacrifice, Polgara," Aldur was saying. "I will speak with my father and my brothers. For good and proper reasons, we have denied ourselves this power, and we must all agree to it before any of us might attempt this violation of the natural order of things." And he returned to the sorrowful gathering about Torak's bier.
"How could he do that?" Garion, his arm still about Ce'Nedra, demanded of his grandfather.
"Do what?"
"Ask her to give up her power like that? It will destroy her."
"She's much stronger than you think, Garion," Belgarath assured him, "and Aldur's reasoning is sound. No marriage could survive that kind of inequality."
Among the glowing Gods, however, one angry voice was raised. "No!" It was Mara, the weeping God of the Marags, who were no more. "Why should one man be restored when all my slaughtered children still lie cold and dead? Did Aldur hear my pleas? Did he come to my aid when my children died? I will not consent."
"I hadn't counted on that," Belgarath muttered. "I'd better take steps before this goes any further." He crossed the littered ground and bowed respectfully. "Forgive my intrusion," he said, "but would my Master's brother accept a woman of the Marags as a gift in exchange for his aid in restoring Durnik?"
Mara's tears, which had been perpetual, suddenly stopped, and his face became incredulous. "A Marag woman?" he demanded sharply. "None such exist. I would have known in my heart if one of my children had survived in Maragor."
"Of a certainty, Lord Mara," Belgarath agreed quickly. "But what of those few who were carried out of Maragor to dwell in perpetual slavery-"
"Knowest thou of such a one, Belgarath?" Mara asked with a desperate eagerness.
The old man nodded. "We discovered her in the slave pens beneath Rak Cthol, Lord Mara. Her name is Taiba. She is but one, but a race may be restored by such a one as she - particularly if she be watched over by a loving God."
"Where is Taiba, my daughter?"
"In the care of Relg, the Ulgo," Belgarath replied. "They seem quite attached to each other," he added blandly.
Mara looked at him thoughtfully. "A race may not be restored by one," he said, "even in the care of the most loving God. It requires two." He turned to UL. "Wilt thou give me this Ulgo, Father?" he asked. "He shall become the sire of my people."
UL gave Belgarath a rather penetrating look. "Thou knowest that Relg hath another duty to perform," he said pointedly.
Belgarath's expression was almost impish. "I'm certain that the Gorim and I can work out the details, Most Holy," he declared with utmost self confidence.
"Aren't you forgetting something, Belgarath?" Silk asked diffidently, as if not wanting to intrude. "Relg has this little problem, remember?"
Belgarath gave the little man a hard look.
"I just thought I ought to mention it," Silk said innocently.
Mara looked sharply at them. "What is this?"
"A minor difficulty, Lord Mara," Belgarath said quickly. "One I'm certain Taiba can overcome. I have the utmost confidence in her in that particular area."
"I will have the truth of this," Mara said firmly.
Belgarath sighed and gave Silk another grim look. "Relg is a zealot, Lord Mara," he explained. "For religious reasons, he avoids certain -ah - forms of human contact."