"We'll get to that later, father. Right now the sight of you makes me nauseous. Give me a few dozen years to get used to you." She smiled at me, a smile with all the warmth of an iceberg.
"Then we'll talk. I have many, many things to say to you. Now go away."
To this day I don't know how she did it. I didn't hear or feel a thing, but the sounds those thousands of birds were making suddenly became angry, threatening, and they descended on me like a cloud, stabbing at me with their beaks and flogging me with their wings. I tried to beat them off with my hands, but you can't really drive off that many birds. About all the songbirds could do was peck at me and pull out tufts of my hair and beard, but the hawks were a whole different matter. I left in a hurry with Polgara's mocking laughter following me.
I was more than a little grumpy when I reached Beldin's tower.
"How far has she gone?" I demanded of him.
"How far has who gone with what?"
"Polgara. Just how much is she capable of?"
"How should I know? She's a female, Belgarath. They don't think the way we do, so they do things differently. What did she do to you?"
"She turned every bird in the Vale loose on me."
"You do look a bit mussed. What did you do to irritate her so much?"
"I went down to the tree and told her to come home."
"I take it she refused the invitation?"
"And then some. How long has she been doing this sort of thing?"
"Oh, I don't know--a couple of years, I guess. That'd be consistent."
"I didn't follow that."
He gave me a surprised look.
"Do you mean you don't know? Haven't you ever been the least bit curious about the nature of our gift?"
"I had other things on my mind."
He rolled his eyes upward.
"Have you ever seen a child who could do the sort of things we do?"
"I hadn't thought about it, but now that you mention it--" "How've you managed to live this long with your head turned off?
The talent doesn't show up until we reach a certain age. Usually girls pick it up a little sooner than boys."
"Oh?"
"It's related to puberty, you dunce!"
"What's puberty got to do with it?"
He shrugged.
"Who knows? Maybe the gift is glandular."
"That doesn't make any sense, Beldin. What have glands got to do with the Will and the Word?"
"Maybe it's a built-in safety precaution. A gifted two-year-old might be a little dangerous. The gift has to be controlled, and that implies a certain maturity. You should be glad that it works that way. Polgara's not very fond of you, and if she'd had the gift when she was a toddler, she might have turned you into a toad."
I started to swear.
"What's the trouble?"
"I'm going to have to get her down out of that tree. She's going to need training."
"Leave her alone. She's not going to hurt herself. The twins and I explained the limitations to her. She isn't experimenting. About all she does is talk to birds."
"Yes. I noticed that."
"You might think about rolling around in the creek before you go home."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"You've got bird droppings all over you, and Beldaran might find you just a bit offensive."
The Master paid me a visit that night, and he gave me some very peculiar instructions. He seemed to think they were important, but they didn't make very much sense to me.
As Poledra had pointed out, I'm not really very good with tools, and the task my Master set me involved some very tiny, meticulous work.
Fortunately, I had a fair number of Tolnedran silver imperials in my purse, so I didn't have to go up into the mountains in search of ore deposits. Free gold isn't too hard to find, but refining silver is a lot of work.
The sculpture itself wasn't too hard--once I got used to using those tiny little tools--but making the chains was very tedious.
It was autumn by the time I finished, and then one evening I completed the last clasp.
"Beldaran," I called my blonde daughter.
"Yes, father?" she replied, looking up from her sewing. I had taught her to read, of course, but she preferred sewing.
"I have something for you."
She came over eagerly.
"What is it?"
"Here." I held out the silver amulet I'd made for her.
"Oh, father! It's lovely!"
"Try it on."
She draped it around her neck, fastened the clasp, and flew to the mirror.
"Oh," she said.
"That's exquisite!" She peered at the reflection a little more closely.
"It's Polgara's tree, isn't it?"
"That's what it's supposed to be."
"It means something, doesn't it?"
"Probably. I'm not sure exactly what, though. The Master told me to make them, but he didn't bother to explain."
"Shouldn't this one be for Pol? It's her tree, after all."
"The tree was there a long time before Polgara was, Beldaran." I held up another of the amulets.
"This one's hers."
She looked at it.
"An owl? What a peculiar thing to give to Pol."
"It wasn't my idea." I'd suffered a great deal sculpting that owl. It raised a lot of memories.
Yes, Durnik, I know I could have cast them, but the Master told me to sculpt them instead.
I knew what my amulet meant, and it was easy. I'd taken the form of a wolf so often that I could have carved that one with my eyes closed. I put it on, sighed, and snapped the clasp.
"Ah--father?" Beldaran said, her hands at the back of her neck.
"Yes, dear?"
"Something's wrong with the clasp. It won't come undone."
"It isn't supposed to, Beldaran. You're not supposed to take it off."
"Not ever?"
"Not ever. The Master wants us to wear them always."
"That might be a little awkward sometimes."
"Oh, I think we can manage. We're a family, Beldaran. The amulets are supposed to remind us of that--among other things."
"Does Polgara's amulet lock, too?"
"I hope so. I built it to lock."
She giggled.
"What's so funny?"
"I don't think she's going to like that, father. If you lock something around her neck, she's probably going to be very unhappy about it."
I winked at her.
"Maybe we'd better wait to tell her until after she's got it locked in place, then."
"Why don't we?" she said, rolling her eyes roguishly. Then she giggled again, threw her arms around my neck, and kissed me.
Beldaran and I went down to the tree the next morning to give Polgara her amulet.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" she demanded.
"You're supposed to wear it," I told her.
"Why?"
I was getting a little tired of this.
"It's not my idea, Pol," I told her.
"I
made the amulets because Aldur told me to make them. Now put it on and stop all this foolishness. It's time for us all to grow up."
She gave me a peculiar look and fastened her amulet about her neck.
"And now we are three," Beldaran said warmly.
"Amazing," Polgara said tartly.
"You do know how to count."
"Don't be nasty," Beldaran told her.
"I know that you're more clever than I am, Polgara. You don't have to hit me over the head with it. Now come back home where you belong."
I could have berated Pol for months on end about that, and she probably would have ignored me. When Beldaran said it, though, she agreed without any argument. And so we went back to the tower and set up housekeeping.
Things were relatively peaceful, oddly enough. Beldaran managed to keep Polgara and me from each others' throats, at least--and could persuade her to wear her amulet, when Pol found a wa
y to circumvent my lock. My blonde daughter had been right. Polgara was much more intelligent than she was. This is not to say that Beldaran was stupid. It was just that Pol's one of the most intelligent people I have ever known--bad-tempered, of course, but extremely intelligent.
I'm sorry, Pol, but you are. It's nothing to be ashamed of.
As soon as she got to the tower, Pol took over in the kitchen. Beltira and Belkira had taught her how to cook, and she absolutely loved the business of preparing food. She was very good at it, too. I've never really paid all that much attention to what I eat, but when every meal that's set before you is a banquet, you start to notice it.
This is not to say that everything was all sweetness and light. Pol and I did have an occasional spat.
You know, that's one of the silliest words in any language. Spat: it sounds like something gooey hitting the floor.
This all went on for about three years, and during that time Polgara and I began to develop a pattern that we've more or less faithfully followed for over three thousand years now. She makes clever comments about my various habits, and I generally ignore them. We don't scream at each other, and we seldom swear. It's not so much that we don't want to on occasion, but we learned to behave ourselves out of consideration for Beldaran.
It was not long after the girls' sixteenth birthday when Aldur paid me another visit. Pol and I had gotten into a fairly serious argument that evening. In passing, I'd mentioned the fact that it was about time for her to learn how to read. You wouldn't believe how much that offended her.
"Are you calling me stupid?" she demanded in that rich voice of hers, and things went rapidly downhill from there. To this day I don't know why it made her so angry.
Anyway, I went to bed in a foul temper, and I slept fitfully.
"Belgarath, my son," I knew the voice, of course.
"Yes, Master?"
"I would have thine house joined with the house of the guardian of the Orb."
"Is it a Necessity, Master?"
"Yea, my beloved disciple. This, however, is the gravest task I have ever called upon thee to perform. From the joining of thine house with the house of the Rivan King shall descend the ultimate Child of Light.
Choose, therefore, which of thy daughters thou shalt give to the Rivan King to be his wife, for in the joining of the two houses shall a line invincible be forged that shall join my Will with the Will of my brother, Belar, and Torak himself may not prevail against us."
I was tempted. Lord knows I was tempted, but I already knew who was going to be Riva's wife. He'd described her to me in great detail on that day when we'd forged his sword, and she did not have dark hair.
Beldaran was ecstatic when I told her of my decision.
"A king?" she exclaimed.
"Well, technically, I guess. I don't know that Riva thinks of himself that way, though. He's not very interested in ceremony or show."
"What does he look like?"
I shrugged.
"Tall, dark hair, blue eyes." I went over to the washstand and filled the basin with water.
"Here," I said to her.
"I'll show you." And I put the image of Riva's face on the surface of the water.
"He's gorgeous?" she squealed. Then her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Does he have to wear that beard?"
"He's an Alorn, Beldaran. Most Alorn men wear beards."
"Maybe I can talk to him about that."
Polgara's reaction was a bit peculiar.
"Why did you choose Beldaran?" she asked.
"Actually I didn't," I replied.
"Riva did--or he had the choice made for him. He's been dreaming about her ever since he landed on the Isle of the Winds. It was probably Belar who put Beldaran's face in Riva's dreams. Belar's partial to blonde girls."
"This is ridiculous, father. You're going to marry my sister off to a complete stranger."
"They'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."
"How old is this Alorn?"
"Oh, I don't know--probably in his late thirties."
"You're going to marry Beldaran to an old man?"
"I'd hardly call thirty-five or forty old, Pol."
"Naturally you wouldn't, since you're thirty-five or forty thousand yourself."
"No. Four, actually."
"What?"
"I'm four thousand, Pol, not forty thousand. Don't make it any worse than it already is."
"When is this absurdity going to take place?"
"We have to go to the Isle of the Winds first. It shouldn't be too long after that. Alorns don't believe in long engagements."
She stormed out of the tower muttering curses.
"I'd sort of hoped she'd be happy for me." Beldaran sighed.
"She'll come around, dear." I tried to sound hopeful about it, but I had some fairly serious doubts. Once Polgara got something in her mind, it was very hard to get her to turn around.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Things might have gone a little better if we'd been able to start out immediately, but it was still winter, and I had no intention of dragging my daughters out in bad weather. Beldaran put the time to good use sewing on her wedding gown. Polgara, however, took up residence in the tree again, and she steadfastly refused even to talk to us.
It was about a month after I'd made the decision when Riva's cousin Anrak showed up in the Vale with another Alorn.
"Ho, Belgarath!" the boisterous Anrak greeted me.
"Why are you still here?"
"Because it's still winter."
"Oh, it's not all that bad. Riva's getting impatient to meet the girl he's going to marry."
"How did he find out about it?"
"He had another one of those dreams."
"Oh. Who's your friend?"
"His name's Gelheim. He's a sort of an artist. Riva wants a picture of his bride."
"He knows what she looks like. He's been dreaming about her for the last fifteen years."
Anrak shrugged.
"He just wants to be sure you've picked the right one, I guess."
"I don't think Belar and Aldur would have let me make a mistake, do you?"
"You never know. Sometimes the Gods are a little strange. Have you got anything to drink?"
"I'll introduce you to the twins. They make fairly good beer. They're Alorns, so they know how it's done."
Beldaran and Anrak hit it off immediately, but Polgara was a different matter. It started out innocently enough one morning when Anrak came by just after breakfast.
"I thought you had two daughters," Riva's cousin said to me.
"Yes," I told him.
"Polgara's a little unhappy with me right now; she's living in a tree."
"It doesn't sound to me as if she's quite right in the head. Does she look like her sister?"
"Not too much, no."
"I thought they were twins."
"That doesn't always mean that they look alike."
"Where's this tree of hers?"
"Down in the center of the Vale."
"I think I'll go down and have a look at her. If Riva's going to get married, maybe I should, too."
Beldaran giggled.
"What's so funny, Pretty?" he asked her. It was his favorite nickname for her.
"I don't think my sister's the marrying kind, Anrak. You can suggest it to her, if you'd like, but leave yourself plenty of running room when you do."
"Oh, she can't be that bad."
Beldaran concealed a smirk and give him directions to the tree.
His eyes still looked a bit startled when he came back to the tower.
"Unfriendly, isn't she?" he noted mildly.
"Is she always that dirty?"
"My sister doesn't believe in bathing," Beldaran replied.
"She doesn't particularly believe in good manners, either. I could probably clean her up, but that mouth of hers might cause some problems.
I'm not even sure what some of those words mean."
"What
did you say to her to set her off?" Beldaran asked him.
"I was honest," Anrak replied with a shrug.
"I told her that Riva and I usually did things together, and that as long as he was going to get married, I might as well, too--and since she wasn't attached . . ." He scratched at his beard.
"That's about as far as I got, actually." He looked slightly injured.
"I'm not used to having people laugh at me. It was a perfectly honorable suggestion. It wasn't as if I'd made an improper proposal." He went across the room to look into Beldaran's mirror.
"Is there something the matter with my beard?" he asked.
"It looks all right to me."
"Polgara's not particularly partial to beards, Anrak," I explained.
"She didn't have to be so insulting though, did she? Do I really look like a rat hiding in a clump of bushes?"
"Polgara exaggerates sometimes," Beldaran told him.
"She takes a little getting used to."
"I don't think it'd work out," he decided.
"I'm not trying to insult you, Belgarath, but you left a lot of the bark on that one when you were raising her. If I decide that I really want to get married, I think I'll choose a nice Alorn girl. Sorcerese girls are a little too complicated for me."
"Sorcerese?"
"Isn't that what your race is called?"
"It's a profession, Anrak, not a race."
"Oh. I didn't know that."
Gelheim drew several pictures of Beldaran, and then he left.
"Tell Riva that we'll be along in the spring," Anrak told him.
Gelheim nodded, then started out through the dreary tag end of winter. He was almost as close-mouthed as Algar was.
Anrak spent much of his time at the twins' tower, but he came by one day to tell me about Riva's progress on the hall he was building at the upper end of the city.
"Actually, it's a little showy for my taste," he said somewhat critically.
"Not that it's got all that many frills or anything, but it's awfully big. I didn't think Riva was that full of himself."
"He's following instructions," I explained.
"The Hall of the Rivan King is there to protect the Orb, not the people who live inside. We definitely don't want Torak to get his hands on it again."
"There isn't much danger of that, Belgarath. He'd have to get past Dras and Algar first, and Bear-shoulders has a fleet of war boats patrolling the Sea of the Winds. One-eye might start out with a big army, but there wouldn't be very many of them left by the time they reached the Isle."
Rivan Codex Series Page 33