"I haven't the faintest idea. Maybe little boys arebornwith the ability—some of them, anyway. Garion was the only one who tried drowning.”
"I was starting to get the hang of swimming, Aunt Pol," he objected, "before I came up under that log and hit my head." |j Ce'Nedra stared at him in horror, and then she quite suddenly I'broke down and began to cry.
Dumik was carrying Geran by the back of his tunic when he returned. The little boy was dripping wet, but seemed quite happy, nonetheless. "He's really very muddy, Pol," the smith noted. "Eriond used to get wet, but I don't think he ever got this muddy."
"Take him outside, Ce'Nedra," Polgara instructed. "He's dripping mud on our clean floor. Garion, there's a washtub in the lean-to. Put it in the dooryard and fill it." She smiled at Geran's mother. "It's about time for him to have a bath anyway. For some reason, little boys always seem to need bathing. Gar-; ion used to get dirty even while he was asleep." On one perfect evening, Garion joined Belgarath just outside j the cottage door. "You seem a bit pensive, Grandfather. What's r the problem?"
"I’ve been thinking about living arrangements. Poledra's going to be moving back into my tower with me."
"So?"
"We're probably going to become involved in a decade or so of cleaning—and hanging window curtains. How can a man took out at the world with window curtains in his way?"
"Maybe she won't make such an issue of it. Back on Perivor, Ac said that wolves aren't as compulsively tidy as birds are."
"She lied, Garion. Believe me, she lied." TVra guests rode up a few days later. Despite the fact that it was almost summer now, Yarblek still wore his shabby felt overcoat, his shaggy fur hat, and a disconsolate expression. Vella, the overwhelmingly sensual Nadrak dancer, wore her usual tight-fitting black leather.
"What are you up to, Yarblek?" Belgarath asked Silk's partner.
"This wasn't my idea, Belgarath. Vella insisted."
"All right," Vella said in a commanding voice, "I haven't got all day. Let's get on with this. Get everybody oat of the house. I want witnesses to this."
"What exactly are we witnessing, Vella?" Ce'Nedra asked the dark-haired girl.
"Yarblek's going to sell me."
"Vella!" Ce'Nedra exclaimed, outraged. "That's revolting'- “
"Oh, bother that," Vella snapped. Bother was not precisely
the word Vella used. She looked around. "Are we all here?"
"That's everybody," Belgarath told her.
"Good." She slid down from her saddle and sat cross-legged onthegrass. "Let's get down to business. You—Beldin, or Feld-egast, or whatever you want to call yourself—one time back in Mallorea, you said you wanted to buy me. Were you serious?"
Beldin blinked. "Well—" he floundered. "I suppose I was, sort of."
"I want a yes or a no, Beldin," she said crisply.
"All right then, yes. You're not a bad-looking wench, and you curse and swear rather prettily."
"Good. What are you prepared to offer for me?"
Beldin choked, his face going suddenly red.
"Don't dawdle, Beldin," she told him. "We haven't got all day for this. Make Yarblek an offer."
'*Are you serious?" Yarblek exclaimed.
"I’ve never been more serious in my life. How much are you willing to pay for me, Beldin?"
"Vella," Yarblek protested, "this is absolute nonsense."
"Shut up, Yarblek. Well, Beldin? How much?"
"Everything I own," he replied, his eyes filled with a kind of wonder.
"That's a little unspecific. Give me a number. We can't haggle without a number,"
Beldin scratched at his matted beard. "Belgarath," he said, “have you still got that diamond you found in Maragor that time before the Tolnedran invasion?”
"I think so. It's somewhere in my tower, I believe."
"So's half the clutter in the world."
"It's in the bookcase on the south wall," Poledra supplied, "'behind that rat-chewed copy of the Darine Codex."
"Really?" Belgarath said. "How did you know about that?"
"Remember what Cyradis called me at Rheon?"
"The woman who watches?"
"Does that answer your question?"
"Would you lend it to me?" Beldin asked his brother. "I suppose 'give' would be a better word. I doubt that I'll ever be in a position to repay you."
"Certainly, Beldin," Belgarath said. "I wasn't really using it anyway.”
"Could you get it for me?"
Belgarath nodded, and then he concentrated, holding out his band.
The diamond that suddenly appeared in his hand was almost like a chunk of ice, except that it had a definite pinkish cast to it.
It was also somewhat larger than an apple.
"Torak's teeth and toenails!" Yarblek exclaimed.
"An" would th' two of ye, consumed with greed though ye may be, consider this triflin' thing a suitable price fer this be-guilin' wench yer both so set on sellin'?" Beldin said, lapsing into Feldegast's brogue and pointing at the stone resting on Belgarath *s hand.
"That's worth a hundred times more than has ever been paid for any woman since time began," Yarblek said in an awed tone.
"Then that ought to be about the right price," Velta said triumphantly. "Yarblek, when you get back to Gar og Nadrak, I want you to spread that word around. I want every woman in the kingdom for the next hundred years to cry herself to sleep every night just thinking about the price I brought."
"You're a cruel woman, Vella." Yarblek grinned.
"It's a question of pride," she said, tossing her blue-black hair. "There, now, that didn't take too long at all, did it?" She rose to her feet and dusted off her hands. "Yarblek," she said, "have you got my ownership papers?"
"Yes."
"Get them and sign me over to my new owner."
"We have to divide up the price first, Vella." He looked mournfully at the pink stone. "It's really going to be a shame to split that beauty," he said.
"Keep it," she said indifferently. "I don't need it."
"Are you sure?"
"It's yours. Get those papers, Yarblek."
"Are you really sure about all this, Vella?" he asked her again.
"I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."
"But he's so ugly—sorry, Beldin, but it's the truth. Vella, what could possibly have made you choose Aim?"
"Only one thing," she said.
"What's that?"
"He can fly." Her tone was filled with a kind of wonder.
Yarblek shook his head and went to his saddlebag. He brought back the ownership papers and signed them over to Beldin.
"An' what would I be wantin' with these?" Beldin asked. The brogue, Garion realized, was a way to hide emotions so deep that the hunchback was almost afraid of them.
"Keep them or throw them away." Vella shrugged. "They don't have any meaning for me anymore.” '
"Very well then, me darlin'," he said. He crumpled the papers up into a ball and held the ball out on the palm of his hand. The wad of paper burst into flame and burned down to ashes. "There," he said, blowing the ashes away. "Now they won't be troublin' us anymore. Is that it? Is that all there is to it?"
“Not quite,” she said. She bent and removed the two daggers from her boot tops. Then she took the other two from her belt. "Here," she said, her eyes now very soft, "I won't be needing these anymore." She handed the daggers to her new owner.
"Oh," Polgara said, her eyes filling with tears.
“What is it, Pol?” Durnik asked, his face filled with concern.
"That's the most sacred thing a Nadrak woman can do," Pofgara answered, touching at her eyes with the hem of her apron. "She just totally surrendered herself to Beldin. That's just beautiful."
“An' what would I be needin' knives fer?" Beldin asked with a gentle smile. One by one he tossed the daggers into the air, where they vanished in little puffs of smoke. He turned. "Goodbye, Belgarath," he said to the old sorcerer. "We’ve had some fu
n, haven't we?"
"I’ve enjoyed it." Belgarath had tears in his eyes.
"And Durnik," Beldin said, "it looks as if you're here to replace me."
"You talk like a man about to die," Durnik said.
"Oh, no, Durnik, I'm not going to die. I'm just going to change a bit. You two say good-bye to the twins for me. Explain
things to them. Enjoy your good fortune, Yarblek, but I still think I got the better of that bargain. Garion, try to keep the world running."
"Eriond's supposed to take care of that."
"I know, but keep an eye on him. Don't let him get into trouble."
Beldin didn't say anything to Ce'Nedra. He simply kissed her rather noisily. Then he also kissed Poledra. She regarded him fondly, her golden eyes filled with love.
"Good-bye, old cow," he said at last to Polgara, slapping her familiarly on the bottom. He looked meaningfully at her waist. "I told you that you were going to get fat if you kept eating all those sweets.”
She kissed him then with tears in her eyes.
"An' now, me darlin'," he said to Vella, "let's be walkin' a bit apart. There's much t' be said before we leave.” Then the two of them walked hand in hand up toward the top of the hill. When they reached it, they stopped and spoke together for a while. Then they embraced and exchanged a long, fervent kiss, and then, while they were still locked in each other's arms, they shimmered and seemed almost to dissolve.
The one hawk was very familiar. The bands on his wings were electric blue. The other hawk, however, had lavender bands on her wings. Together, they thrust themselves into the air and rose in an effortless spiral up and up through the glowing air. Higher and higher they spun in that formal wedding dance until they were no more than a pair of specks winging up and out over the Vale,
And then they were gone, never again to return.
Garion and the others remained at the cottage for another two weeks. Then, noting that Polgara and Durnik were beginning to show signs of wanting to be alone, Poledra suggested that the rest of them go on to the Vale. Promising to return that evening, Garion and Ce'Nedra took their son and the nearly grown wolf pup and accompanied Belgarath and Poledra down into the heart of the Vale.
They reached Belgarath's familiar squat tower about noon and started up the stairway to the circular room at the top. "Watch that step," the old man said absendy as they climbed. This time, however, Garion stopped, letting the rest go on ahead. He reached down, heaved up the stone slab that was the step, and looked under it. A round stone about the size of a hazelnut lay under the stab. Garion removed the stone, put it in his pocket, and replaced the slab. He noticed that the other steps were worn in the center, but this one was not, and he wondered just how many centuries—or eons—the old man had been stepping over it. He went on up, feeling rather pleased with himself.
"What were you doing?" Belgarath asked him.
"Fixing that step," Garion replied. He handed the old man the round pebble. "It was rocking because this was under it. It's steady now."
"I'm going to miss that step, Garion," his grandfather complained. He stared at the pebble, frowning. "Oh," he said, "now I remember. I put this under die step on purpose."
"Whatever for?" Ce'Nedra asked him.
"It's a diamond, Ce'Nedra." Belgarath shrugged. "I wanted to find out how long it would take to grind it down to a powder.”
"A diamond?" she gasped, her eyes widening.
"You can have it, if you'd like," he said, tossing it to her.
Then, taking into account her Tolnedran heritage, Ce'Nedra performed an act of sheer unselfishness. "No, thanks, Belgarath," she said. "I wouldn't want to separate you from an old friend. Garion and I can put it back where it was when we leave."
Belgarath laughed.
Geran and the young wolf were playing together near one of the windows. There was a fair amount of maiding involved in their play, and the wolf was cheating outrageously, seizing every chance to lick Geran's neck and face, which always sent the little boy into uncontrolled giggling.
Poledra was looking around at die cluttered circular room. "It's good to be home," she said. She was fondly caressing the back of the owl-clawed chair. "I spent almost a thousand years perched on this chair," she told Garion.
"What were you doing, Grandmother?" Ce'Nedra asked her. Ce'Nedra had begun, perhaps without realizing it, to mimic Garion's customary forms of address.
"Watching him," the tawny-haired woman replied. "I knew that eventually he'd get around to noticing me. I didn't really think it would take him all that long, though. I really had to do something out of the ordinary to get his attention.”
"Oh?"
"I chose this form," Poledra said, touching one hand to her breast. "He seemed more interested in me as a woman than he did when I was an owl—or a wolf."
"There was something I always meant to ask you,” Belgarath said. "There weren't any other wolves around when we met. What were you doing out there?"
"Waiting for you."
He blinked. "You knew I was coming?"
"Of course."
"When was that?" Ce'Nedra asked.
"Just after Torak stole the Orb from Aldur," Belgarath replied, his mind obviously on something else. "My Master had sent me north to advise Belar of what had happened. I took the form of the wolf to make better time. Poledra and I met somewhere in what's now northern Algaria." He looked at his wife. "Who told you I was coming?" he asked her.
"No one had to tell me, Belgarath," she replied. "I was born knowing you'd come—someday. You certainly took your time about it, though." She looked around critically. "I think we should tidy up a bit here," she suggested, "and those windows definitely need some curtains."
"See?" Belgarath said to Garion.
There were kisses and embraces and handshakes and a few tears—although not really very many of those. Then Ce'Nedra picked up Geran, and Garion the wolf, and they started down the stairs.
"Oh," Garion said when they were halfway down, "give me the diamond. I'll put it back where it belongs."
"Wouldn't an ordinary pebble work just as well, Garion?" Her eyes were suddenly calculating.
"Ce'Nedra, if you want a diamond so badly, I'll buy you one."
"I know, Garion, but if I keep this one I'll have two."
He laughed, firmly took the diamond from her tightly clenched little fist, and returned it to its place under the step.
They mounted their horses and rode slowly away from the tower in the bright sunshine of a spring noon. Ce'Nedra held Geran, and the wolf scampered alongside, dashing out from time to time to chase rabbits.
After they had gone a little way, Garion heard a familiar whisper of sound. He reined Chretienne in. "Ce'Nedra," he said, pointing back at the tower, "look."
She looked back. "I don't see anything."
"Wait. They'll be out in a moment."
"They?"
"Grandmother and Grandfather. There they come now."
"Two wolves bounded out through the open door of the tower and ran across the grassy plain, matching stride for stride as they ran. There was a kind of unbridled freedom and an intense joy in the way they ran.
"I thought they were going to get started with the cleaning," Ce'Nedra said.
"This is more important, Ce'Nedra. Much, much more important."
They reached the cottage just as the sun was going down. Durnik was still busy in the fields, and they could hear Polgara singing softly in the kitchen. Ce'Nedra went inside, and Garion and the wolf crossed the field to join Durnik.
The meal that evening consisted of a roast goose and everything that went with it: gravy, dressing, three kinds of vegetables, and freshly baked bread, still hot from the oven and dripping with butter.
"Where did you get the goose, Pol?" Durnik asked.
"I cheated," she admitted calmly.
"Pol!"
"I'll explain it some other time, dear. Let's eat it before it all gets cold."
After supper they sat
near the fire. They didn't really need a fire—indeed, the doors and windows were even open—but fire and hearth were a part of home, sometimes necessary even when not, strictly speaking, needed.
Polgara held Geran, her cheek against his curls and a dreamy look of contentment on her face. "Just practicing," she said quietly to Ce'Nedra.
"There's no way you could ever forget that, Aunt Pol," the Rivan Queen said. "You've raised hundreds of little boys."
"Well, not quite that many, dear, but it never hurts to keep one's hand in."
The wolf lay sound asleep on the hearth before the fire. He was making small yipping noises, however, and his feet were twitching.
"He's dreaming." Durnik smiled.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Garion said. “He spent the whole time while we were coming back from Grandfather's tower chasing rabbits. He didn't catch any, though. I don't think he was really trying."
"Speaking of dreaming," Aunt Pol said, rising to her feet. "You two and your son and your puppy will want an early start in the morning. Why don't we all go to bed?"
They arose at first light the next morning, ate a hearty breakfast, and then Durnik and Garion went out to saddle the horses.
The farewells were not prolonged. There was no real need for extended farewells among these four, because they would never really be apart. There were a few brief words, a few kisses, and a gruff handshake between Durnik and Garion, and then the Rivan King and his family rode up the hill.
Halfway to the top, Ce'Nedra turned in her saddle. "Aunt Pol," she called, "I love you."
"Yes, dear," Polgara called back, "I know. I love you, too."
And then Garioii led the way on up the hill and toward home.
EPILOGUE
It was raid-autumn. The Alorn Council had taken place at Riva late that summer, and it had been boisterous, even rowdy. It had been attended by many who would not normally have been present. Non-Alorn rulers—and their queens—had virtually outnumbered the Alorn monarchs. Ladies from all over the west had descended upon Ce'Nedra and Polgara, showering them with congratulations, and young children had gathered about Geran, attracted by his sunny disposition—and by the fact that the little boy had somehow discovered a long-unused route to the pastry kitchen and all the treasures contained therein. If the truth were to be known, there was very little in the way of business conducted that year. And then, as always, a series of late-summer storms announced that the meetings were at an end and it was time for the visitors to begin thinking seriously about going home. This had always been the advantage of holding the council in Riva. Although guests might prefer to linger, the steady march of the seasons persuaded them mat it was time to depart.
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