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my labors, a bemused expression on his face. Then he would sigh
and return to the things which he did and which I did not
understand.
The seasons turned, marching in their stately, ordered
progression as I labored endlessly at impossible tasks. Then, perhaps three
or maybe it was five - years after I had come to the tower and begun
my servitude, I was struggling one day to move a huge rock which
my Master felt was in his way It would not move though I heaved
and pushed and strained until I thought my limbs would crack.
Finally, in a fury, I concentrated all my strength and all my will upon
the boulder and grunted one single word. 'Move,' I said.
And it moved - not grudgingly with its huge, inert weight
sullenly resisting my strength - but quite easily, as if the touch of one
finger would be sufficient to send it bounding across the plain.
Well, boy,' my Master said, startling me by his nearness, 'I had
wondered how long it might be before this day arrived.'
'Master,' I said, confused, 'what happened? How did the great
rock move so easily?'
'It moved at thy command, boy. Thou art a man, and it is only a
rock.'
'May other things be done so, Master?'
'All things may be done so, boy. Put but thy will to that which
thou wouldst have come to pass and speak the word. It shall come to
pass even as thou wouldst have it. I have marveled, boy, at thine
insistence upon doing all things with thy back instead of thy will. I
had begun to fear for thee, thinking that perhaps thou mightest be
defective.'
I walked over to the rock and laid my hands on it again. 'Move,' I
commanded, bringing my will to bear on it, and the rock moved as
easily as before.
'Does it make thee more comfortable touching the rock when
thou wouldst move it, boy?' my Master asked, a note of curiosity in
his voice.
The question stunned me. I looked at the rock. 'Move,' I said
tentatively. The rock did not move.
'Thou must command, boy, not entreat.'
'Move!' I roared, and the rock heaved and rolled off with nothing
but my will and the word to make it do so.
'Much better, boy,' my Master said. 'Perhaps there is hope for thee
yet. What is thy name, boy?'
'Garath,' I told him, and suddenly realized that he had never
asked me before.
'An unseemly name, boy. I shall call thee Belgarath.'
'As it please thee, Master,' I said. I had never 'thee'd' him before,
and I held my breath for fear that he might be displeased, but he
showed no sign that he had noticed. Then, made bold by my
success, I went further. 'And how may I call thee, Master?' I said.
'I am called Aldur,' he said, smiling.
I had heard the name before, and I immediately fell upon my face
before him.
'Art thou ill, Belgarath?' he asked.
'Oh, great and powerful God,' I said, trembling, 'forgive mine
ignorance. I should have known thee at once.'
'Don't do that,' he said irritably. 'I require no obeisance. Rise to
thy feet, Belgarath. Stand up, boy. Thine action is unseemly.'
I scrambled up fearfully and clenched myself for the sudden