Joran awoke. He spent a moment trying to remember every detail of his dream as his father had taught him to do long time ago. There had been a little wren, made of crystal. The Wren had shown him a cave in the mountains. "Here you find what you need" the Wren had said. "Make me. Make me… Let me go away". Then the wren had begun to glow blue light until there was nothing but blue, and then the blue light had dimished into a grey stone.
Joran dressed quietly and went to tell the dream to his father.
"You have been called to the Orb's service, Joran" his father told him. "Do as you were told and delay no more".
Joran nodded and went to the cave he'd seen in his dream to gather ingredients. He returned to Torgan's and began to make a little bird.
The cracking sound woke Torgan up."What do you think you're doing, using the heater this early, Joran?" Torgan demanded, "Most of us sleep still after Belar's Feast yesterday!"
"I didn't want to delay in obeying my dream, sir" Joran said. "Father said I was called to Orb's service".
"Very well. Keep firmly in mind that you're serving the Orb when you do this. If you permit anything to distract you from this first and utmost duty, it is my duty as your master to give you a firm and severe chastisement".
Instead of answering, Joran concentrated on the work with the wren. He made several pieces of glass to become wrens, just in case. He would make something else out of them if the first piece wouldn't be perfect. He picked the one that looked most like the wren in his dream and began to form, polish and carve it. He had enough spare mix to add on feathers and such. As he worked, he did his best to remember that this was for the Orb. He was meticulous, he was careful with every single feather. He focused so hard on his work and the Orb, that he forgot everything else. It was like magic. Only thing in his mind was to make that little piece perfect for the Orb. That little bird of crystal became his life, his being. He worked with everything he had, body and soul – for the Orb.
Joran collapsed. He had given it all. All. But it had been worth it. It had been. The wren was done and finished for the Orb.
*******************
Joran looked around. "I… I didn't faint on top of the wren, did I?" he demanded of Torgan who was standing on top of him.
Torgan smiled. "No, Joran, you didn't" he said. "Concern for the piece made in the service… Good. You have proven your place as Rivan with so devoted a servitude to the Orb" Torgan said. "You are a true Glassmaker".
Joran nodded wearily and didn't object when he was told to take a bath and go downstairs for breakfast.
Breakfast was merely porridge, but even so, Joran considered it a feast. While eating, he didn't speak, only thought about the wren; how beautiful it was, how he had worked to make it… for the Orb. Torgan's wife and daughter tried occasionally to get his attention, but Joran's mind was on the Orb and the wren. He didn't speak a word.
"The Orb's faithful servants don't usually speak much" Torgan told them. "They're too occupied with the duties they have to accomplish".
"As is only proper" Merell, Torgan's wife, said approvingly. "For the Holy Orb".
Torgan's daughter, Torell, did not dare speak a word. So far as she knew, Joran was the youngest ever to have been called to service. Many adolescents would try and make their bleak city more colourful, much to their elders' disapproval, but it was clear to Torell that Joran would not. He had been called, and just like her parents, Joran seemed to have no heart for anything but his work. She wished that there was something she could do for Joran, to help him have a bit fun… but all she could do, was play her harp to relieve the boredom of her father's other apprentices.
Joran made twenty bottles that day, to make up for the ten he'd missed doing the day before.
"You need a break, Joran," Torell told him.
Joran opened his mouth to object, but couldn't get a word out.
"What good can you do for the Holy Orb, if you do not care for yourself?" she asked innocently. "I may be just a girl, but after all that work, I sort of doubt you ought to do anything else today".
Reluctantly, Joran agreed. Maybe he did need to relax. Joran went to the Central Temple of Belar. His father looked at him sternly. "I did not see you here yesterday, son" he said after Joran had entered.
"I was called to service, father" Joran replied stiffly. "You remember that, don't you?"
"We exist to serve the Holy Orb" his father replied, "But due to your absence, you missed a piece of important news".
"News, Father?" Joran asked.
"The Orb is gone" his Father said. "Brand's alerted Belgarath and Alorn monarchs, of course, but mainly, all we can do now is wait and keep our faith".
"Gone?" Joran repeated. "How… how can that be?"
"Sceptics won't be satisfied until Belgarath comes with facts, but I think the Orb decided it wants the Keeper's attention".
Joran blinked. "I don't understand" he said, shaking his head.
"Of course you do" Father said. "As I recall, you ran away to get my attention some time back. Seems to me that all children do that — and now the Orb does, too…"
"You weren't very understanding to me" Joran said bitterly.
"Other children come to seek Belar as well as getting attention from their parents. Their parents do come here to seek help and find their children. It is good for the child to find safety of Belar and parents know where the child went, so it's not such a big worry. Temple is a sanctuary to all children of Belar" the Deacon Seral said, crossing his arms. "You, on other hand, ran away from the Temple in order to seek attention on the Day of the Dead".
They talked more, but the discussion ended fast. Joran abandoned his art, for he had no heart for it. Not when the Orb was gone. He did do his daily ten bottles, but that was pretty much it. Torgan didn't mention the matter until it had been on for a few months.
"You don't seem to have much lust for your art anymore" Torgan commented.
"Not until the Orb's safe" Joran sighed. "My art belongs to the Orb".
"If you say so" Torgan said, "but don't expect to get a dream for every glass-piece you're about to do and sell, Joran. I doubt it would work that way. You'd best find yourself a not-so-artistic product you can sell if you can't make your glass animals just like that".
Joran nodded. "Thank you, master," he said.
Nearly a year went past as Joran made crystal goblets, as well as plates and such. Then one night, he did have a dream. The dream had come from the Orb, he was certain of that. It had been very excited.
That day Joran made a glass-figure. The figure had a child in the simplest of outfits holding a round blue ball, to the man who held his hand over the stone, ready to receive it. After he was finished, Joran quickly wrapped it. He remembered all too well how Torgan had reacted the last time he had made a human-figure. He would show this first to the Keeper, if he'd ever show it to anyone. Joran kept the piece safe in his room and took a quick peek at the figure occasionally, for it gave him hope. The hope of the king's return.
Only person Joran had ever really told about his dreams was his father who encouraged him to remember them and to make them into glass-figures. His father also told the children who came to him for education about remembering and acting by their dreams - as Riva had made his sword by advice given in a dream. "That Sword still sits above the throne, even though the Orb is gone" he told them, "and none but the Rivan king has ever so much as touched it and lived. This is how we will know for certain who our king shall be".
After the kids went home that day, the Deacon looked at his son. "The time's soon enough, then" he said. "Do pay attention to your dreams, every detail – it might be important even if you don't understand it yet".
"It's just that Torgan doesn't like my making human figures" Joran sighed. "He'd have them crushed…"
"Don't let him see them. It should be kept between you, Orb, the Keeper and glass", Father advised, "He'll be here soon enough, if your dreams are any indication. You will obey the Keeper, of course, no matter what he tells you to do about it".
"Yes, Father" Joran said.
"Well, anyway… I think it's time I show you some of the prophecy that involves you" the Deacon said. "Here. This is known as the Rivan Prophecy". He read it aloud.
Behold: The Keeper shall read the heart of the Clearer, like it was an open book. And the Clearer shall make all other hearts of the people visible to the Keeper so that he may better care for them.
Joran blinked. "Clearer? What…"
Father laughed. "You do know what they say is the mark of good glass, Joran?"
"Clearness?" Joran said. "But… well, maybe the sand it's made of is not clear to others…"
"There you go" his father said. "You'll understand better when it happens, I suppose. If you truly are that Clearer, that is, but the marks point to that you are. Making those glass-fgures might be a part of it".
Joran kept on doing his glass-figures, still going to the market every day. Then, one day, he heard that the Orb had been safely gained, and it was coming to Riva. The next night Joran dreamed of a child patting the head of a colt. A week later he dreamed of a man holding a flower Joran had never seen before. A week after that, just before Erastide, Joran had a dream of a ship.
With the preparation for Erastide, Joran decided to make the ship right after Erastide. On the day of Erastide, at Noon, the Sun came out – as rare as that was. There was something far more important than the odd weather, though: King Belgarion. Brand introduced their king to the people, and Joran looked at the Keeper's face carefully. He recognised the returned Rivan king as the man who'd been shown to him in a dream.
That evening Joran had dinner in the Temple with several others, sharing the joy of king's return. Joran didn't let himself to get involved in speculation about where Belgarion had been raised. If the prophecy held true, he'd probably meet His Majesty, and then he'd find out for certain.
"Well, it could be Belgarath's tower" Garan suggested. Many agreed with that.
"Why matter, though, main thing is that he's here now, right?" Joran said thoughtfully.
They laughed.
"Toast to the Orb's Keeper" Deacon said, raising his glass, and everybody drank to honour the Keeper.
Joran returned to the glass-shop early, in order to make that ship he'd seen in his dream the next morning...