"We didn't know you could intervene directly," Aunt Pol said.
"I nudge things a bit from time to time - make a few suggestions. If you think back carefully, you might even remember some of them."
"Is the boy aware of any of this?" she asked.
"Of course. We had a little talk about it."
"How much did you tell him?"
"As much as he could understand. Don't worry, Polgara, I'm not going to hurt him. He realizes how important all this is now. He knows that he needs to prepare himself and that he doesn't have a great deal of time for it. I think you'd better leave here now. The Tolnedran girl's presence is causing Mara a great deal of pain."
Aunt Pol looked as if she wanted to say more, but she glanced once at the shadowy figure of the God weeping not far away and nodded. She turned to her horse and led the way out of the ruins.
Mister Wolf fell in beside Garion after they had remounted to follow her. "Perhaps we could talk as we ride along," he suggested. "I have a great many questions."
"He's gone, Grandfather," Garion told him.
"Oh," Wolf answered with obvious disappointment.
It was nearing sundown by then, and they stopped for the night in a grove about a mile away from Mar Amon. Since they had left the ruins, they had seen no more of the maimed ghosts. After the others had been fed and sent to their blankets, Aunt Pol, Garion, and Mister Wolf sat around their small fire. Since the presence in his mind had left him, following the meeting with Mara, Garion had felt himself sinking deeper toward sleep. All emotion was totally gone now, and he seemed no longer able to think independently.
"Can we talk to the - other one?" Mister Wolf asked hopefully.
"He isn't there right now," Garion replied.
"Then he isn't always with you?"
"Not always. Sometimes he goes away for months - sometimes even longer. He's been there for quite a long while this time - ever since Asharak burned up."
"Where exactly is he when he's with you?" the old man asked curiously.
"In here." Garion tapped his head.
"Have you been awake ever since we entered Maragor?" Aunt Pol asked.
"Not exactly awake," Garion answered. "Part of me was asleep."
"You could see the ghosts?"
"Yes."
"But they didn't frighten you?"
"No. Some of them surprised me, and one of them made me sick."
Wolf looked up quickly. "It wouldn't make you sick now though, would it?"
"No. I don't think so. Right at first I could still feel things like that a little bit. Now I can't."
Wolf looked thoughtfully at the fire as if looking for a way to phrase his next question. "What did the other one in your head say to you when you talked together?"
"He told me that something had happened a long time ago that wasn't supposed to happen and that I was supposed to fix it."
Wolf laughed shortly. "That's a succinct way of putting it," he observed. "Did he say anything about how it was going to turn out?"
"He doesn't know."
Wolf sighed. "I'd hoped that maybe we'd picked up an advantage somewhere, but I guess not. It looks like both prophecies are still equally valid."
Aunt Pol was looking steadily at Garion. "Do you think you'll be able to remember any of this when you wake up again?" she asked.
"I think so."
"All right then, listen carefully. There are two prophecies, both leading toward the same event. The Grolims and the rest of the Angaraks are following one; we're following the other. The event turns out differently at the end of each prophecy."
"I see."
"Nothing in either prophecy excludes anything that will happen in the other until they meet in that event," she continued. "The course of everything that follows will be decided by how that event turns out. One prophecy will succeed; the other will fail. Everything that has happened and will happen comes together at that point and becomes one. The mistake will be erased, and the universe will go in one direction or the other, as if that were the direction it had been going from its very beginning. The only real difference is that something that's very important will never happen if we fail."
Garion nodded, feeling suddenly very tired.
"Beldin call it the theory of convergent destinies," Mister Wolf said. "Two equally possible possibilities. Beldin can be very pompous sometimes."
"It's not an uncommon failing, father," Aunt Pol told him.
"I think I'd like to sleep now," Garion said.
Wolf and Aunt Pol exchanged a quick glance. "All right," Aunt Pol said. She rose and took him by the arm and led him to his blankets.
After she had covered him, drawing the blankets up snugly, she laid one cool hand on his forehead. "Sleep, my Belgarion," she murmured.
And he did that.