Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress

by David Eddings

  ‘Nobody lives there, Geran,’ I replied.

  ‘Nobody at all?’

  ‘Not a soul.’

  ‘I’ve never lived in a place where there weren’t any other people around, Aunt Pol.’

  ‘We don’t want other people around, Geran. That was the whole idea.’

  ‘Well–’ He said it a bit dubiously. The house isn’t haunted, is it, Aunt Pol? I don’t think I’d like to live in a haunted house.’

  I didn’t even smile. ‘No, Geran,’ I assured him. ‘The house isn’t haunted. It’s just empty.’

  He sighed. ‘I think I’m going to have to learn how to do some things I’m not used to doing,’ he said.

  ‘Oh? Such as what?’

  ‘Well, we will need firewood and things like that, won’t we? I’m not good with tools, Aunt Pol,’ he confessed. There were all kinds of servants in grandfather’s citadel, so I never really learned how to use an axe or a shovel or things like that’

  ‘Look upon it as a chance to learn, Geran. Let’s put Squire in the stable, and then we’ll go inside. I’ll fix us some supper and then we’ll see about some beds.’

  ‘Anything you say, Aunt Pol.’

  We had supper, and then I set up a pair of cots in the kitchen. We could explore the house and choose more suitable quarters in the morning.

  The house had been untended for quite a long time, so there were cobwebs in the corners and a thick layer of dust over everything. That was intolerable, of course. Over the years I’d paid occasional visits to my former seat of power and I’d customarily tidied up with a wave of my hand. I decided that this time I’d do it a little differently. My youthful charge had just emerged from a crushing tragedy, and I didn’t want him brooding about it. He needed something to keep his mind – and his hands – busy. Cleaning the house from top to bottom and from one end to the other would probably keep us both out of mischief for quite some time. It would also avoid alerting any stray Grolims to our presence. At that particular time I wasn’t familiar enough with Grolims to know just exactly how skilled they were in the exercise of their talents, so it was better to be a little on the safe side.

  I arose just before dawn and started preparing breakfast. My kitchen had been built to feed quite a number of people, so the stoves and ovens were very large. It seemed just a little ridiculous to heat up a stove bigger than a farm wagon just to feed two people, but it was the only stove available, so I laid in the kindling and piled on firewood that had lain in the wood-box for generations. Geran had been right about one thing, it appeared. He was going to be spending a lot of time chopping wood.

  Geran woke up when the smell of breakfast began to reach him. I’ve known a lot of little boys over the years, and that’s one characteristic they all have in common. As a group, I’ve noticed that they’re always hungry.

  ‘What are we going to do today, Aunt Pol?’ he asked me after he’d spooned down his second bowl of porridge.

  I ran one finger across the back of an unused chair and held it out for his inspection. ‘What do you see, Geran?’ I asked him.

  ‘It looks sort of dusty to me.’

  ‘Exactly. Maybe we ought to do something about that.’

  He looked around the kitchen. ‘It shouldn’t take us too long,’ he said confidently. ‘What shall we do when we’re finished?’

  ‘There’s more than one room in the house, Geran,’ I pointed out.

  He sighed mournfully. ‘I was sort of afraid you might feel that way about it, Aunt Pol.’

  ‘You’re a prince, Geran,’ I reminded him. ‘I wouldn’t want to offend you by making you live in a dirty house.’

  ‘It takes a lot to offend me, Aunt Pol.’ He said it hopefully.

  ‘It just wouldn’t do for us to live in all this filth, Geran. We’ll have the house all bright and shiny in no time at all.’

  ‘It’s a very big house, Aunt Pol.’

  ‘Yes, it is rather, isn’t it? It’ll give you something to do, and you can’t go outside to play.’

  ‘Couldn’t we just close off the parts where we won’t be living? Then we could clean the three or four rooms we’ll be staying in and let the rest go.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be right, Geran. It just wouldn’t do.’

  He sighed with a kind of mournful resignation.

  And so the Rivan King and I started cleaning house. He wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t sulk too much. The one thing I didn’t tell him had to do with the fact that dust keeps right on settling and web-spinning spiders are the busiest creatures in the world. Just because you cleaned a room yesterday is no guarantee that it’s not going to need cleaning again tomorrow.

  We did other things, of course. There was a farm cart in one of the stables, and I periodically hitched Squire to the cart and went out to buy provisions from nearby farms. Geran didn’t go with me on those occasions. I left him in my library the first time, and when I returned, I found him sprawled in a chair looking disconsolately out the window. ‘I thought you’d be reading,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t know how to read, Aunt Pol,’ he admitted.

  That gave us something else to do when we grew tired of cleaning house. Geran had a quick mind, and he was reading in a surprisingly short length of time.

  We settled into a kind of routine, cleaning in the morning and lessons in the afternoons. It was a fairly comfortable way to live, and we were both quite content.

  The twins kept me advised of the progress of father’s punitive expedition into Nyissa, and I passed the news on to Geran. He seemed to take a certain amount of satisfaction in his grandfather’s rampant destruction of the land of the Snake People.

  Spring came, and my youthful charge and I took up gardening as a hobby. I suppose I could have continued to buy food from neighboring farms, but I didn’t really like to leave Geran alone, and if my face became too familiar in the area, a chance word dropped in some local tavern might alert a passing Murgo.

  I think it was early summer when father and uncle Beldin come by to pay us a call. I still remember Geran coming down the stairs with a sword in his hand. He was very young, but he knew that it was a man’s duty to protect his women-folk. I didn’t really need protection, but his little gesture touched me all the same. He greeted my father enthusiastically and immediately asked if the Old Wolf had kept his promise to kill the Serpent Queen.

  ‘She was dead the last time I looked,’ father replied. He was a little evasive about it, I thought.

  ‘Did you hit her for me the way I asked you to?’ Geran pressed.

  “That he did, Laddy buck,’ uncle Beldin said. “That he did.’

  Uncle Beldin’s distorted appearance seemed to make Geran just a little apprehensive, so I introduced them.

  ‘You aren’t very tall, are you?’ Geran blurted.

  ‘It has its advantages sometimes, Laddy Buck,’ uncle Beldin replied. ‘I’m almost never after hittin’ me head on a lowhangin’ branch, don’t y’ know.’

  ‘I like him, Aunt Pol,’ Geran said, laughing.

  Then father went into some of the details of the little get-together he’d planned. He pointed out the fact that the assassination of Gorek had been a major EVENT and that we’d probably better all gather in the Vale to consider our various options. He advised us that he’d go on to the Isle of the Winds to fetch Brand while uncle Beldin escorted Geran and me to the Vale.

  Before we’d even finished crossing the Sendarian mountains, Geran and uncle Beldin were fast friends. I’ve never completely understood why old men and little boys always seem to automatically take to each other, and I’m always a little offended when the white-haired member of that little group shrugs it off by saying, ‘It’s a man sort of thing, Pol. You wouldn’t understand.’ They can talk about ‘man things’ until they’re blue in the face, but my own suspicions strongly lean in the direction of approaching senility and its accompanying reversion to childhood, if not outright infantilism, on the part of one of them. It was that journey that persu
aded me that no woman in her right mind should ever allow an old man and a little boy anywhere within five miles of any patch of water. Their hands will automatically sprout fishing poles, and nothing at all will get done for the rest of the day.

  When the three of us finally reached the Vale, Geran met the twins, and they fussed over him as much as uncle Beldin had. I began to feel definitely left out.

  They did let me do the cooking, though – and the cleaning up afterward. Wasn’t that nice of them?

  Father and Brand arrived after a few weeks, and we all got down to business. Geran sat quietly on a chair in a corner while we discussed the state of the world and what we were going to do about it.

  Evidently my little charge had been greatly impressed with that tired old saw, ‘children should be seen and not heard’. It kept him from asking a lot of questions, though.

  Uncle Beltira advised us that according to the calendar of the Dals, the Third Age had ended. All of the prophecies were now in place, and now that we had our instructions, all we had to do was carry them out.

  Then uncle Beldin told us that an Angarak general named Kallath was busy unifying all of Mallorea and bringing it under Torak’s domination.

  Prince Geran did bend the rules once during that discussion. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘What’s supposed to happen in Arendia? Isn’t that the place that scroll you’ve got was talking about when it said something about “the lands of the Bull-God”?’

  ‘Very good, Geran,’ father complimented the boy’s perceptiveness in identifying the reference contained in the obscure language of the Mrin.

  ‘There’s going to be an EVENT, your Highness,’ uncle Beltira told him.

  ‘What kind of event?’ Geran hadn’t quite caught on to the peculiar emphasis my family gave that word.

  ‘The prophecy we call the Mrin Codex uses the term when it’s talking about a meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark,’ Belkira explained.

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Nobody, specifically,’ Beldin said. “They’re sort of like titles. They get passed around quite a bit. Anyway, everything’s moving in the direction of one of those EVENTS. If we’re reading these things right, the Child of Light and the Child of Dark are going to meet in Arendia some time in the future, and the meeting’s probably not going to be a friendly one. I don’t think they’ll be talking about the weather.’

  ‘A battle?’ Geran asked enthusiastically. He was fairly young after all.

  I was in the kitchen area fixing supper. “The arrival of this Kallath right at this particular time isn’t a coincidence, is it?’ I suggested.

  ‘Probably not, Pol,’ father agreed.

  ‘Excuse me again,’ Geran said. ‘If Torak’s got prophecies of his own, then he knows that something important’s going to happen in Arendia the same as we do, doesn’t he?’

  ‘I’m sure he does,’ Beldin replied.

  ‘Do you know what I think?’ the boy said, his brow knitted in concentration. ‘I don’t think that what happened to my family really had anything to do with somebody trying to steal the Orb. I think that Torak was just trying to keep us so busy that we wouldn’t pay any attention to what this Kallath person was doing in Mallorea. If the Nyissans hadn’t murdered my family when they did, one of you would have gone to Mallorea to keep Kallath from taking over the whole place. But you all got so busy punishing the Nyissans that you didn’t pay any attention to what was going on in Mallorea.’ He stopped, suddenly aware of the fact that we were all paying very close attention to what he was saying. ‘Well,’ he added apologetically, ‘that’s what I think anyway, and this Zedar person you all know was probably the best one to fool you, since he knows you all so well.’

  ‘What have you done to this boy, Pol?’ Beldin growled at me. ‘He isn’t supposed to be thinking this clearly yet.’

  ‘I taught him to read, uncle,’ I replied. ‘He took it from there.’

  ‘What a waste!’ the dwarf muttered.

  ‘I don’t think I followed that, uncle.’

  ‘The boy and I could have been arguing philosophy instead of molesting fish while we came across the mountains.’

  ‘You absolutely have to tamper with things, don’t you, Pol?’ father said accusingly.

  ‘Tamper? It’s called “education”, father. Didn’t you tamper with me? I seem to remember a long string of “whys” coming from your mouth a few years back.’

  ‘You always have to make those clever remarks, don’t you, Pol?’ he said with a certain distaste.

  ‘It’s good for you, father,’ I replied lightly. ‘It keeps you on your toes, and that helps you to ward off senility – for a little while, anyway.’

  ‘What did you mean by that, Aunt Pol?’ Geran asked me.

  ‘It’s a game they play, Geran,’ Beltira explained. ‘It embarrasses them to admit that they actually like each other, so they play this game instead. It’s their way of saying that they don’t really hate each other.’

  The twins have such sweet faces that I think we tend to forget just how wise they are. Beltira had seen right to the center of our silly game, and his explanation embarrassed both my father and me.

  Fortunately, Brand stepped in to cover our confusion. ‘It would seem that my prince is very gifted,’ the Rivan Warder mused. ‘We’ll have to protect that mind.’

  ‘That’s my job, Brand,’ I told him.

  ‘Polgara,’ mother’s voice came to me at that point, ‘listen very carefully. The Master has a question to ask you.’

  Then we all sensed the Master’s presence. We couldn’t see him, but we knew that he was there. ‘Dost thou accept this responsibility freely, my daughter?’ he asked me intently.

  This was the task I’d accepted at Beldaran’s wedding. I’d sworn to take it up then, and nothing had really happened in the past two thousand or so years to make me change my mind. A great many things fell into place at that point. In a sense, the two eons which had passed since I’d first pledged myself to take up this task had merely been preparation – an education, if you will. Now I was ready to be Geran’s guardian and protector – no matter where EVENTS would take him or the line which would descend from him. I’d already pledged my word to accept this responsibility, but evidently the Master wanted confirmation. ‘I accepted this task freely once before, Master,’ I replied, laying my hand rather possessively on Geran’s shoulder, ‘and I accept it freely now. Truly, I shall guard and guide the Rivan line for so long as it be necessary. Yea, even unto the end of days, if need be.’

  As I said it, I felt a peculiar sort of surge, and I seemed to hear a vast ringing sound echoing from the farthest star. Quite clearly my affirmation of my previous vow was an EVENT of the first magnitude. I’d done a few fairly important things before, but this was the first time that the stars had ever applauded me.

  ‘Well then,’ I said to my some what awed family, ‘now that we’ve settled that, supper’s almost ready, so why don’t you gentlemen go wash your hands while I set the table?’

  Chapter 26

  If you choose to look at it in a certain light, my acceptance of the task was automatic, even instinctive. My little epiphany on board the ship that carried us from the Isle of the Winds as I’d comforted the grief-stricken Geran lay at the core of my willingness to devote the rest of my life to the descendants of my sister and Riva Iron-grip. The line was of my blood – my pack, if you will – and rearing and protecting each child in the line was an obligation I’d have accepted even had the Master not extracted that pledge from me.

  But there was another, less wolfish, reason for my ready acceptance. I was fully convinced that the death of Ontrose had closed certain doors to me. I was certain that I’d never marry or have children of my own. The rearing of my sister’s descendants would fill that aching emptiness.

  The following morning I was seized with an almost overpowering urge to leave the Vale. It was as if my reaffirmation of my pledge had opened a whole new chapter in my life,
and I wanted to get on with it. Looking back, however, I’ll confess that my motives were a little less admirable. My pledge had made Geran mine, and I wanted to keep him all to myself.

  Isn’t it odd the way our minds work sometimes?

  Anyway, my sandy-haired charge and I left the Vale after a few days, and the dependable, mottled Squire carried us back up into the Sendarian mountains. I was really in no great hurry to get home, so our pace was leisurely. I’m sure Squire approved of that. I’ve observed that horses lie a lot. A horse loves to run, but he always behaves as if it’s a terrible imposition when you ask him to do that.

  ‘What was it like, Aunt Pol?’ Geran asked me one evening after supper when we’d spread our blankets on the ground, the camp-fire had burned down to embers, and the close and friendly darkness was enfolding us. ‘I mean, what was it like to grow up in the Vale surrounded by magic and sorcerers the way you were?’

  ‘My sister and I hadn’t really known any other kind of life, Geran, so it didn’t really seem particularly unusual to us.’

  ‘She was my grandmother, wasn’t she? – your sister, I mean.’

  ‘Your ultimate grandmother, yes.’ I stepped around some things rather carefully. Geran didn’t really need to know about mother just yet. I lay back and looked up at the stars. ‘Our father was off in Mallorea when we were born,’ I told him. ‘He and Bear-shoulders and the boys were stealing the Orb from Torak.’

  ‘It wasn’t really stealing, was it? I mean, the Orb belonged to us in the first place after all. Torak’s the one who stole it.’

  ‘Well, he stole it from the Master, but it amounts to the same thing, I guess. Anyway, my sister and I were raised by uncle Beldin.’

  Geran giggled. ‘I like him,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I noticed.’ Then I continued with a slightly sanitized version of my childhood in the Vale. Geran listened eagerly. If you want a little boy’s undivided attention, tell him stories. After a while, however, he drifted off to sleep, and I fell silent. I watched the endless progression of the stars for a while, noting that a couple of the constellations had moved since I’d last taken a good look at them. And then I too slept.