Garriel could see if for himself. Tendrils of orange flame flickered off the wall facing his bedroom door, and he darted from the confines of his room. There, he saw that his friends were waiting for him, pointing in every which direction. In times of emergency, one had no time to think, and before even dicussing what he was doing, or even thinking about it, Garriel ran towards a group of people who were throwing water on the fire.

Garriel then felt something metal hit his stomach. Looking down, he saw that there was an empty pail at his feet. "You!", one of the people called to him, "Take that and get water!"

Garriel thought the man was slightly impolite, just demanding him to get the water. However, after thinking about it for the briefest second, Garriel realized that if he were in the same situation as that man, he would have probably done the same thing. "Where can I get water?"

"The kitchen is a couple halls that way!" The man shouted over the blaze, as he pointed off in a vague direction. "Go quickly! We are running out of water!"

Once again, the hands of emergency gripped a hold of him, and Garriel ran off in that directions with asking any further questions. He didn't know if he was running right into the fire, or if the man was sure that there were no other passages he had to worry about. It wouldn't make a difference now, though, and Garriel stopped at the door way of the kitchen, and was suddenly with a profound fright.

The kitchen was the source of the fire. There were flames everywhere, shooting to the side of the door and out into the halls. There was no way Garriel could make his way to the sink now, he would be burned alive. He would not be able to go back to help the people without water, and there was no way he could think of to stop the fire by himself. There was only one thing left which he could do.

Running down the halls, Garriel was racing against time. He had to get the royal apartments before the fire spread any further. As he ran, he noticed that the area was becoming more serene, though there were no servants in the areas. Obviously, they did not want to wake up their royal guests in response to what they felt was a small crisis. But Garriel had been to the kitchen, and he had noticed that the fire was coming close to the wooden foundation. The entire section of the Stronghold would collapse if that was set aflame.

He checked all the rooms, each one having a different royal couple. King Anheg and Queen Islena slept with thick curtains about their bed, their quarters seemed to be made from the thickest of furs. Emperor Varana's bed seemed to be plated with golden sheets, and even the bedspreads themselves were lined with a golden thread. King Belgarion and Queen Ce'Nedra slept closely together, and their children slept on beds to the side. Strangely, Garriel noticed that there was a young wolf with them, but he paid it no heed. Finally, he got the bedroom he wanted.

This bedroom was strangely plain, with only a single bed in the middle. However, the people he was looking for were already up, one of them waiting for him at the door.

"What is wrong Garriel?" Belgarath asked him. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Isn't that the child from the Algarian herds?" The woman asked, looking at Garriel rather gently.

"Yes, Poledra. He and a couple of his friends joined Silk while he and his wife were on one of their trips."

"Oh…I see."

"Belgarath!" Garriel spoke up quickly. He really did not like to intrude on people's conversations normally, but the time seemed to call for it.

"What is it Garriel?" The old man asked, his face coming a bit more serious as he obviously sensed Garriel's concern.

"There's a fire in the kitchen, and it has caught to the entire side of the Stronghold! I tried to get water for the group, but I was blocked by a wall of fire at the door!" Garriel wanted to go on, but Belgarath raised his hand, signalling to stop.

"Wait, how did this fire start? And what group is this?" He asked.

"I don't know how it started, but there are groups of people who are trying to put it out with buckets of water. I think all the servants in the entire castle have gone to help, because no one tried to stop me when I came here."

"Can you show me where the kitchen is, Garriel?" Belgarath asked.

"I think so…I passed it on my way here." Garriel answered the Eternal Man, though still trying to mentally back track his steps.

"Alright then. That is probably where this fire started." Belgarath concluded. "Bring me there, Garriel. We have to stop this fire before it gets out of hand." Then, he turned to his wife, who seemed to be looking at him with a question in her eyes, his facial expression taking on the form of what seemed to be a difference language. Belgarath answered that expression with one of his own, and Poledra nodded. Then, he turned back to Garriel. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get moving."

Garriel once again began to make his way through the royal apartments, although he noticed that even there the smoke of the fire was beginning to reach. However, with the knowledge that Belgarath the Sorceror was behind him, he was not afraid. He continued to follow the billowing clouds of ash towards the crimson tendrils of the fire which were coming from the kitchen. As he walked, he noticed that it was almost as if a path was opened for him, through the flames themselves.

"Is this it?" Belgarath asked, motioning to the flame engulfed room which stood before them.

"Yes, that is it." Garriel answered simply.

Belgarath took a look at the room, and then sighed slightly. Garriel could hear the rush of wind, as he was sure that the old sorceror was preparing to bring a whole storm into the house, and he wondered if he should go off to look for shelter, however the outcome of what Belgarath was doing was no such thing. "Water", he intoned and then, and obviously by magic, rain began to fall from the roof of the room and down onto the flames below. Garriel watched in amazement as the steady downpour, which he thought more to be like a cloudburst rather than a simple drizzle, put out the flames of the fire and the water to form almost a river as it flowed from the kitchen and into the halls about it. Then, as the smoke turned from a jet black to a whitish gray, Belgarath turned back to the fire, and flicked his finger again. "Enough", he said and the rain stopped, like someone had just plugged where it was coming from shut.

"I wonder how this fire started", Belgarath mused outloud. "Usually the cooks and servants are very careful around the fires, and this sort of thing almost never happened."

By now, Garriel was staring at the old man in amazement. Even when he had first heard about the old storyteller's true identity, he did not fully believe it, though that wasn't to say that he doubted King Cho-Hag. However, now that this magical act had been performed, he could do nothing but stand there in awe at the undisputable Ancient Man, who had lived through millenia, watching the peoples progress and follow goals which only he and other sorcerors could fully comprehend.

Noticing that Garriel was staring at him, even in the middle of his thoughts, Belgarath turned to the awe-struck Algarian. "It isn't polite to stare, Garriel."

"Sorry, Ancient One." Garriel slipped into extravagance again, calling the storyteller by his title, rather than his name.

Belgarath took on a pained expression. "I asked you not to call me that, Garriel."

"Sorry Ancient…..eh….Belgarath." Garriel answered, feeling a little bit sheepish.

"It is alright, Garriel, perfectly alright." Then, he looked around, still lost in his thought. "We're going to have to get to the bottom of this, though. I don't think a fire could have started by itself here…no, it's really impossible. Nothing was lit, and the possibility of steel and flint coming together over tinder by themselves is extremely slender." He was apparently speaking to himself, and Garriel tried to listen in, but he really didn't understand. Why would anyone start a fire in the Stronghold?

"Perhaps if someone accidently…" Belgarath was muttering to himself. Garriel paid no attention and instead began to move towards the inner sections of the kitchen. Surely something therein would assist them in finding the cause of the fire.

The first place he checked was by the fires, obviously. There was nothing there, however, except the burnt remains of the nights' meal and a couple of charred logs. He didn't see any sign of an accident, there wasn't a single pan on the floor. Next, he made his way over to the ovens, where the bread was cooked. Again, he didn't find anything that would help him explain the reason fire had just consumed at least a third of the Stronghold's working section.

Garriel continued to check each corner of the kitchen, and by then, Belgarath was long gone. Giving up, he made his way to a seat on the side and looked out through the doorway. There were people running back and forth with hammers and nails, some running with buckets of water to put out what remained of the flames. A lot of the people, he noticed, were servants who were frantically running to fulfill their lords' demands for information. He also noticed a couple of Drasnian spies lurking about, though he was fairly sure that he was not supposed to notice that. Once again, he sighed, and placed his head on his hands, looking into water-filled sink at his reflection.

While looking at his reflection, trying to straighten out for himself everything that was currently happening, he noticed something sunk on the bottom. It appeared to be a piece of paper, with writing scribbled on it. Reaching into the water, he pulled that note out from the sink and held it carefully in his hands so that it would not fall apart.

Ever since Queen Silar had banished the Bear Cult from the Stronghold, education around Algaria had actually improved. It was because of this that Garian was literate, and it was because of this that he was able to read what was written on the note. The handwriting was rather clumsy, and the script was half washed away by the water. Garriel's eyes, however, were able to pick out what was written there, word by word.

"We, the people of Ans Cthrog, the force for the Angarak liberation from the Western contraint, do claim responsibility for the fire which occurred at the Stronghold. We believe that the peace between the Angarak and Western nations is a most unholy thing, something that spits in the face of the spirit our holy and all powerful God, Torak. We demand that the alliance be broken.

Be it known that should this alliance continue, our attacks will increase in number and in severity.

We also detest the new abomination, Eriond. This Alorn sorceror is akin to the evil Belgarath, and son to the vile Polgara. He is no God, and we will not accept his dominion.

Consider the fire a warning. What will happen next will be far worse."