Winter came early that year, and it seemed much more severe than usual. Trees were exploding in the cold in the Far North, and the snow was piling up to incredible depths. Then on a bitterly cold day when the sky was spitting pellets of snow as hard as pebbles, four Alorns bundled to the ears in fur came down into the Vale. I was able to recognize them from a considerable distance because of their size.
"Well met. Ancient Belgarath," Cherek Bear-shoulders greeted me when I went out to meet him and his sons. I wish people wouldn't call me that.
"You're a long way from home, Cherek," I noted.
"Is there some sort of problem?"
"Just the opposite, Revered One," Dras Bull-neck rumbled at me.
Dras was even bigger than his father, and his voice came up out of his boots.
"My brothers have found a way to reach Mallorea."
I looked quickly at Iron-grip and Fleet-foot. Riva was nearly as tall as Dras, but leaner. He had a fierce black beard and piercing blue eyes.
Algar, the silent brother, was clean-shaven, and he had the rangy limbs of a coursing hound.
"We were hunting," Riva explained.
"There are white bears in the Far North, and Mother's birthday is in the spring. Algar and I wanted to give her a white fur cape as a present. She'd like that, wouldn't she?" There was a strange, boyish innocence about Riva. It's not that he was stupid or anything. It was just that he was eager to please and always enthusiastic. Sometimes he almost seemed to bubble.
Algar, of course, didn't say anything. He almost never did. He was the most close-mouthed man I've ever known.
"I've heard about those white bears," I said.
"Isn't hunting them just a little dangerous?"
Riva shrugged.
"There were two of us," he said--as if that would make a difference to a fourteen-foot bear weighing almost a ton.
"Anyway, the ice is very thick in the northern reaches of the Sea of the East this year. We'd wounded a bear, and he was trying to get away from us.
We were chasing him, and that's when we found the bridge."
"What bridge?"
"The one that crosses over to Mallorea." He said it in the most offhand way imaginable, as if the discovery of something that Alorns had been trying to find for two thousand years wasn't really all that important.
"I don't suppose you'd care to give me a few details about this bridge?" I suggested.
"I was just getting to that. There's a point that juts out to the east up in Morindland, and another that juts toward the west out of the lands of the Karands over in Mallorea. There's a string of rocky little islets that connects the two. The bear had gotten away from us somehow. It was sort of foggy that day, and it's very hard to see a white bear in the fog. Algar and I were curious, so we crossed the ice, following that string of islands.
About mid-afternoon a breeze came up and blew off the fog. We looked up, and there was Mallorea. We decided not to go exploring, though.
There's no point in letting Torak know that we've discovered the bridge, is there? We turned around and came back. We ran across a tribe of Morindim and they told us that they've been using that bridge for centuries to visit the Karands. A Morind will give you anything he owns for a string of glass beads, and Karandese traders seem to know that. The Morinds will trade ivory walrus tusks and priceless sea-otter skins and the hides of those dangerous white bears for a string of beads you can buy in any country fair for a penny." His eyes narrowed.
"I hate it when people cheat other people, don't you?" Riva definitely had opinions.
Bear-shoulders gave me a rueful smile.
"We could have found out about this years ago if we'd taken the trouble to spend some time with the Morindim. We've been tearing the north apart for two thousand years trying to find some way to cross over to Mallorea and pick up the war with the Angaraks where we left off, and the Morindim knew the way all along. We've got to learn to pay more attention to our neighbors."
As nearly as I can recall, that's fairly close to the way the conversation went. Those of you who've read the Book of Alorn will realize that the priest of Belar who wrote those early passages took a great deal of liberty with his material. It just goes to show you that you should never trust a priest to be entirely factual.
I gave Cherek Bear-shoulders a rather hard look. I could see where this was going.
"This is all very interesting, Cherek, but why are you bringing it to me?"
"We thought you'd like to know, Belgarath," he said with an ingenuously feigned look of innocence. Cherek was a very shrewd man, but he could be terribly transparent sometimes.
"Don't try to be coy with me, Cherek," I told him.
"Exactly what have you got on your mind?"
"It's not really all that complicated, Belgarath. The boys and I thought we might drift over to Mallorea and steal your Master's Orb back from Torak One-eye." He said it as if he were proposing a stroll in the park.
"Then we got to thinking that you might want to come along, so we decided to come down here and invite you."
"Absolutely out of the question," I snapped.
"My wife's going to have a baby, and I'm not going to leave her here alone."
"Congratulations," Algar murmured. It was the only word he spoke that whole afternoon.
"Thank you," I replied. Then I turned back to his father.
"All right, Cherek. We know that this bridge of yours is there. It'll still be there next year. I might be willing to discuss this expedition of yours then--but not now."
"There might be a problem with that, Belgarath," he said seriously.
"When my sons told me about what they'd found, I went to the priests of Belar and had them examine the auguries. This is the year to go. The ice up there won't be as thick again for years and years. Then they cast my own auguries, and from what they say, this could be the most fortunate year in my whole life."
"Do you actually believe that superstitious nonsense?" I demanded.
"Are you so gullible that you think that somebody can foretell the future by fondling a pile of sheep guts?"
He looked a little injured.
"This was important, Belgarath. I certainly wouldn't trust sheep's entrails for something like this."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"We used a horse instead. Horse guts never lie."
Alorns!
"I wish you all the luck in the world, Cherek," I told him, "but I won't be going with you."
A pained look came over his massive, bearded face.
"There's a bit of a problem there, Belgarath. The auguries clearly state that we'll fail if you don't go along."
"You can gut a dragon if you want to, Cherek, but I'm staying right here. Take the twins--or I'll send for Beldin."
"It wouldn't be the same, Belgarath. It has to be you. Even the stars say that."
"Astrology, too? You Alorns are branching out, aren't you? Do the priests of Belar sprinkle stars on the gut pile?"
"Belgarath!" he said in a shocked tone of voice.
"That's sacrilegious!"
"Tell me," I said sarcastically, "have your priests tried a crystal ball yet? Or tea leaves?"
"All right, Belgarath, that's enough." It was one of the very few times I've ever heard that voice. Garion's been hearing it since he was a child, but it seldom had occasion to speak to me. Needless to say, I was just a bit startled. I even looked around to see where it was coming from, but there wasn't anybody there. The voice was inside my head.
"Are you ready to listen?" it demanded.
"Who are you?"
"You know who I am. Stop arguing. You WILL go to Mallorea, and you WILL go now. It's one of those things that has to happen. You'd better go talk with Aldur." And then the sense of that other presence in my mind was gone.
I was more than a little shaken by this visitation. I suppose I tried to deny it, but I did know who had been talking to me.
"Wait here," I bluntly told the King of Aloria and his
sons.
"I have to go talk with Aldur."
"I can see that thou art troubled, my son," our Master said to me after I'd entered his tower.
"Bear-shoulders and those overgrown sons of his are out there," I reported.
"They've found a way to get to Mallorea, and they want me to go with them. It's a very bad time for me, Master. Poledra's due sometime in the next couple of months, and I really should be here. Cherek's very insistent, but I told him that they'd have to go without me."
"And?" My Master knew that there was more.
"I had a visitation. I was told in no uncertain terms that I had to go along."
"That is most rare, my son. The Purpose doth not often speak to us directly."
"I was afraid you'd look at it that way," I admitted glumly.
"Can't this be put off?"
"Nay, my son. The TIME is part of the EVENT. Once missed, it will not return, and in the loss of this opportunity, we might well fail. This entails a great sacrifice for thee, my son--greater than thou canst ever know--but it must be made. We are compelled by Necessity, and Necessity will brook no opposition."
"Somebody's got to stay with Poledra, Master," I protested.
"Mayhap one of thy brothers will agree to stand in thy stead. Thy task, however, is clear. If the voice of Necessity hath told thee to go, thou must surely go."
"I don't like this, Master," I complained.
"That is not required, my son. Thou art required to go, not to like the going."
He was a lot of help. Grumbling under my breath, I went back outside and hurled my thought in the general direction of Tolnedra.
"I need you!" I bellowed at Beldin.
"Don't scream!" he shouted back.
"You made me spill a tankard of fine ale."
"Quit thinking about your belly and get back here."
"What's wrong?"
"I have to leave, and somebody's got to look after Poledra."
"I'm not a midwife, Belgarath. Have the twins do it. They're the experts at this sort of thing."
"With sheep, you clot! Not with people! Get back here right now!"
"Where are you going?"
"To Mallorea. Cherek's sons have found a way to get there that doesn't involve sprouting feathers. We're going to Cthol Mishrak to take back the Orb."
"Are you crazy? If Torak catches you trying that, he'll roast you over a slow fire."
"I don't intend to let him catch me. Are you coming back or not?"
"All right. Don't get excited; I'm coming."
"I'll be gone by the time you get here. No matter what she says or tries to do, don't let Poledra follow me. Keep her inside that tower. Chain her to the wall if you have to, but keep her at home."
"I'll take care of it. Give my best to Torak."
"Very funny, Beldin. Now get started."
As you might have noticed, I wasn't exactly in a good humor at that point. I went back to where I'd left the King of Aloria and his sons stamping their feet in the snow.
"All right," I told them, "this is what we're going to do. We're going to my tower, and you're not going to say anything at all about this insane notion of yours to my wife. I want her to believe that you're just passing through and stopped by to pay a courtesy call. I don't want her to know what we're up to until we're a long way away from here."
"I take it you've had a change of heart," Cherek noted blandly.
"Don't push your luck, Bear-shoulders," I told him.
"I've been overruled, and I'm not very happy about it."
I can't be entirely sure how much Poledra really knew, and to this day she won't tell me. She greeted the Alorns politely and told them that supper was already cooking. That was a fair indication that she knew something. Cherek and his boys and I hadn't been in sight of the tower when we'd held our little get-together. I've often wondered just exactly how far my wife's "talents" go. The fact that she'd lived for three hundred years--that I was willing to admit that I knew about--was a fair indication that she wasn't what you'd call ordinary. If she did have what we refer to as "talent," she never exercised it while I was around. That was a part of our unspoken agreement, I suppose. I didn't ask certain questions, and she didn't surprise me by doing unusual things. Every marriage has its little secrets, I guess. If married people knew everything about each other, life would be terribly dull, I guess.
As I think I've indicated, Bear-shoulders was probably one of the world's worst liars. After he'd eaten enough roast pork to glut a regiment, he leaned back in his chair expansively.
"We have business in Maragor,"
he told my wife, "and we stopped by to see if your husband would be willing to show us the way." Maragor? What possible interest could Alorns have in Maragor?
"I see," Poledra replied in a noncommittal sort of way. Now I was stuck with Cherek's lie, so I had to try to make the best of it.
"It's not really very far, dear," I told my wife.
"It shouldn't take me more than a week or so to get them through the mountains to Mar Amon."
"Unless it snows again," she added.
"It must be very important if you're willing to go through those mountains in the wintertime."
"Oh, it is, Lady Poledra," Dras Bull-neck assured her.
"Very, very important. It has to do with trade."
Trade? I know it sounds impossible, but Dras was an even worse liar than his father. The Marags have no seacoast. How could Alorns even get to Maragor to trade with them? Not to mention the fact that Marags had absolutely no interest whatsoever in commerce--and they were cannibals besides! What a dunce Cherek's oldest son was! I shuddered. This idiot was the Crown Prince of Aloria!
"We've heard some rumors that the streams in Maragor are absolutely awash with gold," Riva added. At least Riva had a little good sense.
Poledra knew enough about Alorns to know that the word "gold" set their hearts on fire.
"I'll try to mediate for you, Bear-shoulders," I said, pulling a long face, "but I don't think you'll have very much luck with the Marags. They aren't interested enough in the gold even to bend over to pick it up, and I don't think you could offer them anything that'd make them willing to take the trouble."
"I think your trip will take longer than a week," Poledra told me.
"Be sure to take warm clothing."
"Of course," I assured her.
"Perhaps I should go with you."
"Absolutely not--not when you're this close."
"You worry too much about that."
"No. You stay here. I've sent for Beldin. He's coming back to stay with you."
"Not unless he bathes first, he won't."
"I'll remind him."
"When will you be leaving?"
I cast a spuriously inquiring look at Cherek.
"Tomorrow morning?" I asked him.
He shrugged, overdoing it a bit.
"Might as well," he agreed.
"The weather in those mountains isn't going to get any better. If we're going to have to wade through snow, we'd better get to wading."
"Stay under the trees," Poledra advised.
"The snow isn't as deep in thick woods." If she did know, she was taking it very calmly.
"We'd better get some sleep," I said, standing up abruptly. I didn't need any more lies to try to talk my way around.
Poledra was very quiet in our bed that night. She clung to me fiercely, however, and along toward morning she said,
"Be very careful. The young and I will be waiting when you come back." Then she said something she rarely ever said, probably because she felt it was unnecessary to say it.
"I
love you," she told me. Then she kissed me, rolled over, and immediately went to sleep.
The Alorns and I left early the next morning, ostentatiously going off toward the south and Maragor. When we were about five miles south of my tower, however, we circled back, staying well out of sight, and proceeded on toward the northeast.
CHAPTER TWE
LVE
This all happened about three thousand years ago, long before the Algars and the Melcenes had begun their breeding experiments with domestic animals, so what passed for horses in those days were hardly more than ponies--which wouldn't have worked out very well for a group of seven-foot-tall Alorns. So we walked. That's to say they walked, I ran. After trying to keep up with them for a couple of days, I called a halt.
"This isn't working," I told them.
"I'm going to do something, and I don't want you getting excited about it."
"What have you got in mind, Belgarath?" Dras rumbled at me a little nervously. I had quite a reputation in Aloria back then, and the Alorns had exaggerated notions about the kinds of things I could do.
"If I'm going to have to run just to keep up, I'm going to run on all four feet."
"You don't have four feet," he objected.
"I'm going to fix that right now. After I do, I won't be able to talk to you--at least not in a language you'll understand--so if you've got any questions, ask them now."
"Our friend here is the most powerful sorcerer in the world," Cherek told his sons sententiously.
"There's absolutely nothing he can't do." I think he really believed that.
"No questions?" I asked, looking around at them.
"All right then," I said, "now it's your turn to try to keep up." I formed the image in my mind and slipped myself into the familiar form of the wolf. I'd done it often enough before that it was almost automatic by now.
"Belar!" Dras swore, jumping back from me.
Then I ran off a hundred yards toward the northeast, stopped, turned, and sat down on my haunches to wait for them. Even Alorns could understand the meaning of that.
The priest of Belar who wrote the early sections of the Book of Alorn was quite obviously playing fast and loose with the truth when he described our journey. He was either drunk when he wrote it, or he didn't have the facts straight. Then again, he may have thought that what really happened was too prosaic for a writer of his vast talent. He declares that Dras, Algar, and Riva were waiting for us a thousand leagues to the north, which simply wasn't true. He then announces that my hair and beard were turned white by the frost of that bitter winter, which was also a lie. My hair and beard had turned white long before that--largely because of my association with the children of the Bear-God.
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