Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  "I'm a little concerned about it, though. The Mrin says that the Horse-Lord's going to be his son, and the Horse-Lord's already been born--into another clan. The twins are working on it. The Mrin's being very stubborn right now. Are you going to be around for a while?"

  "No. I think I'd better go back to southern Cthol Murgos and keep an eye on Burnt-face. We're getting close to the birth of the Godslayer, and that might be the thing that wakes Torak up."

  "I'm not so sure about that. If it does, we're going to be in trouble. An infant wouldn't pose all that much threat to Torak One-eye."

  "I still think we should be ready--just in case. If it does wake Torak, you might have to take the baby out into the woods someplace and hide him. Is Chamdar still poking around?"

  "He's in Tolnedra right now. Drasnian intelligence is keeping an eye on him."

  "I thought you were supposed to do that."

  "It's better this way. Chamdar knows me a little too well. He can feel it when I'm in his general vicinity."

  "It's up to you, I guess. I'm going to go talk with the twins for a bit, and then I'd better get back to Cthol Murgos." Then he turned around and clumped back on down my stairs. It was only after he'd left that I realized that he hadn't once asked me for something to drink. Our growing sense of anticipation was making us all behave a little strangely.

  The following year, the lame Cho-Hag was elevated to the position of Chief of Clan-Chiefs of Algaria, and that gave me a lot of trouble. I knew that Hettar would one day take that position, and I couldn't for the life of me see how that could happen--short of another clan war. Considering what lay ahead, a clan war in Algaria was the last thing we needed.

  Everything was happening very fast now, with events piling on top of each other everywhere I turned, and yet in a very real sense, I was just marking time, waiting for Geran to grow up and get married. I tend at times to get impatient, and just sitting around waiting drives me right up the wall, so, though there wasn't really any need for it, I dusted off my storyteller costume and went out to have a look around.

  My first stop was Annath, naturally. Geran was twelve or so now, and he was growing like a weed. His hair had grown even darker, and his voice was changing, sometimes coming out as a rich baritone and at other times cracking and squeaking. Quite often he sounded like a young rooster trying to crow.

  "Has he started to notice girls yet?" I asked Pol when I had gotten her off to one side.

  "Give him time, father," she replied.

  "Ildera's only nine. Let's not rush things."

  "Ildera?"

  "The girl he's going to marry."

  "That doesn't sound like a Sendarian name."

  "It's not. Ildera's the daughter of a Clan-Chief of Algaria. Their pastures are just over on the other side of the border."

  I frowned.

  "Are you sure, Pol? I'd always assumed that the Godslayer's mother was going to be a Sendar."

  "Whatever gave you that idea?"

  "I'm not sure. He's supposed to be born here in Sendaria, so I guess I just jumped to the conclusion that his mother'd be a Sendar."

  "All you had to do was ask me, father. I could have told you she'd be an Algar about six generations ago."

  "You're sure she's the right one?"

  "Of course I'm sure."

  "Have you told Geran yet?"

  "I don't do that, father. You should know that by now. If you start telling young people whom they're supposed to marry, they tend to get mule-headed about it."

  "The Godslayer's going to know."

  "Not until I'm ready for him to know, he won't."

  "Pol, it's written down in the Accords of Vo Mimbre. It's right there in black and white that he'll marry a Tolnedran Princess."

  "It won't mean a thing to him, father."

  "How do you plan to keep it from him?"

  "I'm not going to teach him how to read, that's how."

  "You can't do that! He has to know how to read! How's he going to know what he's supposed to do if he can't read the Mrin?"

  "There'll be time enough for him to learn to read later, Old Man. I didn't start learning until after Beldaran got married, remember? If he's the kind of person we think he's going to be, he won't have any trouble picking it up."

  I had my doubts about that, but I kept them to myself.

  "How much have you told Geran?" I asked her.

  "Not very much. Young people have a tendency to blurt things out when they get excited. I'd rather that the people here in Annath didn't know that they have royalty in their midst. Darral knows, of course, but he knows how to keep his mouth shut."

  "Where is the boy this morning?"

  "He's at the stone quarry with his father--learning the trade."

  "Working in a quarry can be dangerous, Pol," I objected.

  "He'll be fine, father. Darral's keeping an eye on him."

  "I think I'll go on over there."

  "Why?"

  "I want to see if Darral might give his apprentice the rest of the day off."

  "What for?"

  "So the boy and I can go fishing."

  "Don't you be getting him off alone and telling him things he doesn't need to know yet."

  "That wasn't what I had in mind."

  "Why do you want to take him fishing then?"

  "To catch fish, Pol. Isn't that why people usually go fishing?"

  She rolled her eyes upward.

  "Men!" She said.

  Geran and I spent a pleasurable afternoon working a mountain stream that tumbled down out of that little lake I mentioned before. We didn't have much time to talk, because the fish were biting, and that kept us quite busy.

  The next morning, I told them all good-bye and left for Erat. I wanted to look in on Durnik. I knew that he was the Man with Two Lives, but I didn't realize at the time exactly what that was going to mean, or just how important Durnik was going to be in all our lives. Now, of course, he's my son-in-law and the most recent disciple of my Master.

  Isn't it strange how these things turn out?

  Durnik was about a year younger than Geran, but he was already very strong. He was apprenticed to a blacksmith named Barl, and working around a forge is one of the fastest ways I know of to develop muscles.

  Durnik was already a very serious young fellow, and he was growing up to be a typical Sendar: sober, industrious, and steadfastly moral. I seriously doubt that Durnik's had an unclean or salacious thought in his entire life.

  I broke a buckle on my pack--quite deliberately--and I stopped by Barl's shop to get it fixed. Barl was busy shoeing a horse, so Durnik repaired my buckle. We talked for a little bit, and then I moved on.

  I frankly doubt that my son-in-law even remembers that meeting. I do, though, because that brief conversation told me all I really needed to know about him.

  After I left Barl's smithy, I turned south and proceeded down into Arendia to look in on the Wildantors. The most typical of the family was a young count, Reldegen, who seemed fully intent on going through his life with his rapier half drawn. Reldegen was sort of what they had in mind when they came up with the term "hothead." He wasn't quite as prone to disaster as his nephew, Leildorin, would become, but he ran him a close second. I liked him, though.

  When I left Arendia, I hurried on back to the Vale. Winter was coming anyway, and I wanted to find out if the twins had discovered anything new. Events were plunging ahead, and scarcely a day went by that they didn't crack open another passage in the Mrin.

  It wasn't until 5344 that the problem in Algaria was resolved. Young Hettar and his parents had been traveling alone near the Eastern Escarpment, and they were attacked by Murgos. The Murgos killed the boy's parents and then dragged him behind a horse for several miles and left him for dead. Cho-Hag found him a couple of days later and, in time, adopted him. Hettar would be the next Chief of the Clan-Chiefs, and it wouldn't take a clan war to get him there. That was a relief.

  In the spring of the following year, the twins
strongly suggested that I take Polgara to meet those young Alorns who would become so important to us later.

  "They really ought to get to know her, Belgarath,"

  Belkira told me.

  "The time's going to come when you'll all be doing important things together, so they should be able to recognize her on sight. Alorns have some peculiar prejudices where women are concerned, so you'd better get them used to the idea that Pol's no ordinary woman while they're still young. We'll go up to Annath with you and keep an eye on things while the two of you are gone."

  I couldn't fault their reasoning, since they were Alorns themselves.

  Besides, Pol was vegetating in Annath, and I thought it might not be a bad idea for her to get away for a while.

  You have no idea of how quickly she agreed with me about that.

  We went on over to Algaria first, since it was right next door--so to speak--and we finally ran Cho-Hag down. Algars do move around a lot.

  Even at the age of eight, Hettar was a grim-faced little boy who spent almost every waking moment practicing with his weapons and his horses.

  His eyes went absolutely flat every time anyone even mentioned the word "Murgo." He obviously already had plans for what would become his life's work. I don't like Murgos all that much myself, but Hettar takes it to extremes.

  All Alorns have heard of me and my daughter, of course, so Cho-Hag greeted us royally. I saw to it that Pol got the chance to talk with Hettar at some length, and she was very dubious about him when we left for Drasnia.

  "I think he's hovering right on the verge of insanity, father," she told me.

  "He'll be an absolute monster when he grows up, and he'll eventually become King of the Algars."

  "That's a problem for the Murgos, isn't it?" I replied.

  "Don't be so smug, Old Man. Hettar's got all the makings of a berserker, and I think there'll be times when that could put us all in danger. You do know that he's a Sha-Dar, don't you?"

  "Yes. I sensed that the first time I saw him. Does he know yet?"

  "He might. He knows that he's a lot closer to horses than other Algars are. He may not have made the connection yet. Are the other two Alorns as wild as this one seems to be?"

  "I haven't seen either of them in a while. Kheldar should be fairly civilized. He's Drasnian, after all. I can't make any promises about Barak.

  He's Cherek, and that whole country's full of wild men

  Prince Kheldar, the nephew of Rhodar, crown prince of Drasnia, was a small, wiry boy with a long, sharp nose, and he was already too clever by half. Even at ten, he was smarter than most full-grown men. He flattered Pol outrageously and won her over in about ten minutes. She liked him, but she was wise enough not to trust him.

  You should always keep that firmly in mind if you happen to have any dealings with Silk. It's perfectly all right to like him, but don't ever make the mistake of trusting him. He's married now, but his wife's at least as devious as he is, so I wouldn't trust her, either.

  After we'd visited with Kheldar's family for a few days, Pol and I went down to Kotu and took ship for Val Alorn. When we got there, I borrowed some horses at the palace, and we rode to Trellheim. Barak was nine years old or so, and his cousin, Anheg, the crown prince of Cherek, was about a year older. Anheg was visiting his cousin, and the two of them were already almost as big as full-grown men. Barak had flaming red hair, but Anheg's hair was coarse and black. They were a couple of rowdies, but that was to be expected. They were Chereks, after all.

  I introduced Pol to them, and she managed to get them to stay in one place long enough for a talk.

  "Well?" I said to her as we were riding back to Val Alorn.

  "What do you think?"

  "They'll work out just fine," she replied.

  "They're noisy and boastful, but they're both very intelligent. Anheg's going to make a very good king, I think, and he already relies on Barak."

  "Did you get any sense of what that

  "Dreadful Bear' business is all about?"

  "Not entirely. It's got something to do with the Godslayer. It could simply mean that Barak's going to go berserk if the Godslayer's in any kind of danger, but it might go even further. Maybe it'll get clearer by the time Barak's full grown."

  "Let's hope so. I'd like to know about it a little in advance if there's going to be an actual change."

  We sailed back to Darine from Val Alorn, and then went on to Annath. The twins went back to the Vale, and I said good-bye to Pol and took the Great North Road back to Boktor. I wanted to have a look at Prince Kheldar's uncle, Rhodar, the crown prince of Drasnia. I talked with him a bit, and I wasn't disappointed. Even as a young man, Rhodar was decidedly chubby, but what a mind he had! The three of them, Rhodar, Anheg, and Cho-Ram, were all going to be outstanding kings, and I was fairly sure we were going to need all their talents when things started to come to a head.

  I was on the go almost continually then, so I seldom got back to the Vale to talk with the twins. We stayed in touch, though.

  Then, in the spring of 5346, they told me that Pol had gone off on another of those mysterious errands of hers and that they were filling in for her at Annath.

  I hurried back there so that I could talk with them face to face. Our means of communication was convenient, I'll grant you, but there were Murgos in the West again, and where you've got Murgos, you've also got Grolims, and Grolims have ways to pick random conversations out of the air. I definitely didn't want some Grolim locating Polgara and tracking her back to Annath.

  "I wish she'd let me know what she's going to do before she just runs off like this!" I fumed when I met with the twins.

  "Where's she gone to this time?"

  "Gar og Nadrak," Beltira replied.

  "She's gone where?"

  "Gar og Nadrak. This time it was the Mrin that told her to go there.

  You remember those Nadrak "friends" we told you about back in the forty-ninth century? And you went there to have a look?"

  "Yes." Of course I remembered. That was the time I'd picked up all that gold.

  "These "friends" are out and about now, so Pol's gone to Gar og Nadrak to identify them."

  "I could have done that!" I shouted in a sudden fury.

  "Not as well as Pol can," Belkira disagreed.

  "Don't yell at us, Belgarath. We just passed on the instructions to her, we didn't make them up."

  I got control of myself.

  "Where exactly is she?"

  "She and her owner are in Yar Nadrak."

  "Her owner?"

  "Didn't you know? Women are considered property in Gar og Nadrak."

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  It was in that same year, 5346, that a recurring pestilence broke out once again in western Drasnia. The disease appears to be endemic in that part of the world, and I rather think that the fens might have something to do with it. It's a virulent kind of disease that's usually fatal, and those who survive it are generally grotesquely disfigured.

  Since Pol was off in Yar Nadrak, I was obliged to spend a year or so pinned down in Annath. I kept an eye on Geran, but we seldom had time to do any fishing, since he had other things on his mind. He was in the process of building his own house, and every time Ildera's clan was near the border, he spent just about every waking moment with her. Ildera was a tall blonde girl and very lovely. Geran seemed quite taken with her, not that he really had any choice in the matter. It appeared that the Necessity could handle those arrangements all by itself even when Pol wasn't around to guide the young people into those marriages. That made me feel rather smug, for some reason.

  It was about midsummer in the year 5347 when a bone-thin Drasnian named Khendon came to Annath with a message for me. Khendon was a margrave, I think, but he had better things to do than sit around polishing his title. Since spying seems to be Drasnia's national industry, most members of the Drasnian nobility routinely attend the academy of the Intelligence Service, and Khendon had been no exception. It's while they're a
t the academy that they pick up those distinctive nicknames, and Khendon had been dubbed

  "Javelin," probably because he was so thin. Though he wasn't really very old, Javelin was already one of the best in the service.

  I've always rather liked him. He's one of the few men in the world who can keep Silk off balance. That in itself makes him extremely valuable.

  He leaned back in his chair in Darral's kitchen while Geran's mother was fixing supper. Darral and Geran were still hard at work in the stone quarry.

  "I chanced to be in Yar Nadrak, Ancient One," Javelin told me, "and your daughter looked me up. She gave me a message for you." He reached inside his doublet, drew out a folded and sealed sheet of parchment, and held it out to me.

  "She said that you'd understand why she chose to do it this way instead of what she called "the other way." What did she mean by that?"

  "It's one of those things you don't need to know about. Javelin," I told him.

  "I need to know about everything, Ancient One," he disagreed.

  "Curiosity can get you into a lot of trouble, Javelin. There are two worlds out there that sort of coexist. You take care of yours, and I'll take care of mine. We'll try not to step on each others' toes too often. Believe me, it's smoother that way. I've been at this for a long time, so I know what I'm doing." I broke the wax seal--which I'm sure Javelin had carefully replaced after he'd browsed through the message--and read the note from my daughter.

  "Father," it began,

  "I'm ready to come home now. Come to Yar Nadrak, and bring plenty of money. My owner will probably expect a sizable price for me."

  "What's the going price for a slave woman in Gar og Nadrak, Khendon?" I asked the skinny Drasnian.

  "That depends on the woman, Holy One," he replied, "and upon how good a bargainer the buyer is. Bear in mind the fact that there are three parties involved in the bargaining."

  "Would you like to explain that?"

  "The woman's interested in the price, too, Belgarath--since she gets half, and since the price is an indication of her value. As a matter of pride, your daughter's going to insist on a very high price."

  "Even from me?"

  "It's a quaint custom. Holy One. You do want her back, don't you?"