Belgarath the Sorcerer

by David Eddings

  I quickly laid a couple of books on the scroll to keep the place. That’s one of the reasons I don’t like scrolls. Left to their own devices, they’ll roll themselves back up without any outside assistance as soon as you let go of them.

  I picked up the Mrin again and rolled my way through it until I came to the place I’d just remembered. ‘Behold,’ it said, ‘all shall seem lost, but curb thy despair, for the Rivan King shall return.’

  They weren’t identical, but they were very close. I stared at the two passages with my heart sinking like a rock. A rather horrid prospect was looming in front of me. I knew how to wring coherence out of the Mrin now, but the sheer size of that job made me weak just thinking about it. There were matching passages in those documents. The Mrin had no sense of time, but the Darine did. All I had to do to get a coherent time-sequence for the Mrin was to compile a comparative concordance.

  Then I read the next line of the Mrin. ‘I had fullest confidence in thee, Ancient and Beloved, knowing full-well that the solution would come to thee - eventually.’

  Now that was really offensive, even though it confirmed my discovery. The Necessity knew the past and the present and the future, so it knew that I’d ultimately break its code. The clever remark was there for no reason other than to draw my attention to the fact so that I wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand. Evidently, it thought I was stupid.

  Incidentally, Garion, the next time your friend pays you a visit, you might tell him that I’ve occasionally taken advantage of his clever little trick. Why should I wrack my brains trying to make sense of that solid wall of gibberish we call the Mrin Codex when he’s speckled it with those very obvious signals? I’m not above letting somebody else do my work for me. Then you might ask him who got in the last laugh. I’m sure he won’t mind. He has an absolutely wonderful sense of humor.

  I went back to the place in the Darine that more or less matched the warning in the Mrin that’d sent Pol and me flying off to the Isle of the Winds; then I settled down to work. It was very slow going, since I had to virtually memorize the Mrin in the process. The Darine usually gave only a brief summary of an event, and the Mrin expanded on it. There were certain key words that linked the two, and after I’d matched up a couple of those passages, I got a little better at pinpointing those keys. I devised a system of index marks that I’d put in the margins to correlate matching passages. Once I’d found a match, I didn’t want to lose it. The more I worked on it, the more I came to realize that the Darine was little more than a map to the Mrin. Neither of them was very useful by itself, but when you put them together, the message started to emerge. It was subtle and very complex, but it almost absolutely guaranteed that nobody was going to accidentally get his hands on information that was none of his business.

  I slogged along for the better part of a year, and then Beldin came back to the Vale. ‘Did you get the Alorns back where they belong?’ I asked him when he came stumping up the stairs to my tower.

  ‘Finally,’ he said. ‘You were right about the Bear-Cult. They really wanted to stay in the south. You’d better keep an eye on Valcor. He’s not quite a cultist, but his sympathies sort of lean in that direction. Radek and Cho-Ram finally managed to bring him to his senses, though.’

  ‘Cultists don’t have any sense, Beldin.’

  ‘They’re not quite suicidal, though. Radek and Cho-Ram chained up all the cultists in their own ranks and started for home. The Chereks are savages, but they’re no match for the legions all by themselves. Once the Drasnians and Algars left, Valcor didn’t have any choice but to go home, too.’

  ‘Did Brand take sides?’

  ‘He was in complete agreement with Radek and Cho-Ram. He’s got responsibilities at home, so he wasn’t about to get involved in an extended war in the south.’ He looked at the scrolls on my work table. ‘Are you making any progress?’

  ‘Some. It’s very slow going, though.’ I explained the concordance I’d been working on.

  ‘Cunning,’ he noted.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Not you, Belgarath; the Necessity.’

  ‘It’s not quite as easy as it sounds. You wouldn’t believe how long it takes to match up some of those passages.’

  ‘Have you talked with the twins about it?’

  ‘They’re busy with something else.’

  ‘Maybe they’d better put it aside. I think this is more important.’

  ‘I can handle it, Beldin.’

  ‘A little professional jealousy there, old boy? A prophecy isn’t really a prophecy if you don’t unravel it until after the fact, you know. To all intents and purposes, the twins have a single mind, don’t they?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘When you try to do this, you have to keep hopping back and forth, but they wouldn’t. Beltira could read the Darine, and Belkira the Mrin. When they hit these correspondences, they’ll both know it instantly. They’ll be able to do in minutes what takes you days.’

  I blinked. ‘They could, couldn’t they? I never thought of that.’

  ‘Obviously. Let’s go drop your project into their laps. Then you’ll be able to do something useful - like cutting firewood or digging ditches. Have you looked in on Pol?’

  ‘I’ve been busy. Did it really take you a whole year to take the Alorns home?’

  ‘No. I made a quick trip to Mallorea to see if anything was stirring yet.’

  ‘Is there?’

  ‘Not so far. Maybe word of what happened at Riva hasn’t reached Torak yet. Let’s go get Pol. I think we’d all better get together and make some plans before I go back and take up permanent residence in Mal Zeth.’

  ‘That might not be a bad idea. I’ve picked up a few hints about the next couple of centuries while I was putting the concordance together. I don’t think anything significant’s going to happen for a while, but let’s all put our heads together on it. Sometimes I miss things.’

  ‘You? Impossible.’

  ‘Quit trying to be clever, Beldin. I’m not in the mood for it. Let’s turn the concordance over to the twins and then go to Erat and talk to Pol.’

  The twins understood the idea behind the concordance immediately, and Beldin had been right. With two sets of eyes, one reading Darine and the other reading Mrin, they could definitely make headway faster than I could. Then Beldin took the form of the blue-banded hawk he’s so fond of, I converted myself into the falcon again, and we winged off to the northwest to drop in on Polgara.

  There’s an old fairy-tale about a princess who’s locked up in a lonely castle that’s completely surrounded by a dense thicket of thorny trees. Pol’s manor-house in north central Sendara is very much like that - except that her thicket has roses all over it. Those rose-bushes had been untended for centuries. The canes were as thick as tree-trunks, and they were covered with thorns that were at least four inches long. Their tendrils were so interwoven that nobody was going to get through them without ripping off most of his skin. Since the house was totally concealed, nobody’d have any reason to take the trouble, so Pol’s privacy was guaranteed.

  We settled on her doorstep, changed back, and I pounded on the door, sending echoes booming back into the house.

  After a few moments, I heard Pol’s voice just inside. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘It’s me, Pol. Open up.’

  She was wearing an apron, and she’d tied a kerchief around her head in a kind of turban. She was holding a cloth-wrapped broom that had cobwebs all over it.

  ‘What are you doing, Pol?’ Beldin asked her.

  ‘Cleaning house.’

  ‘By hand? Why don’t you do it the other way?’

  ‘It’s my house, uncle. I’ll clean it any way I choose.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re a strange person, Polgara,’ he noted. ‘You spend centuries learning all the short-cuts, and then you refuse to use them.’

  ‘It’s a matter of principle, uncle. You don’t have any principles, so you wouldn’t understand.’


  He bowed to her. ‘Score one for you, Pol,’ he said. ‘An would y’ be willin’ t’ offer the hospitality of yer splendid house t’ a couple o’ weary travelers, great lady?’

  She ignored his attempt at humor. ‘What do you two want?’ She wasn’t very gracious about it.

  ‘We’re having a little family get-together at the Vale, Pol,’ I told her. ‘It wouldn’t be the same without you.’

  ‘Out of the question.’

  ‘Don’t be difficult, Polgara,’ Beldin said. ‘This is important. We need you.’ He pushed his way past her into the hallway.

  ‘Did you chop a road right to my doorstep?’

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘We flew in.’

  I looked around. The light was subdued because all of the windows in the house were covered with rose-vines, but I could see that the entryway to my daughter’s house had a highly-polished marble floor and glowing wooden wainscoting. ‘Are you just now getting around to tidying up, Pol?’ I asked her.

  ‘No. Geran and I’ve been at it since we got here. We’re on the third floor now.’

  ‘You’ve turned the Crown Prince of Riva into a cleaning boy? It’s very democratic, Pol, but isn’t it a little inappropriate?’

  ‘It won’t hurt him, father. Besides, he needs the exercise.’

  Then Geran came warily down the stairway. He was wearing a dust-stained peasant smock, and he was holding a sword. It wasn’t a very big sword, but he handled it as if he knew how to use it. ‘Grandfather!’ he exclaimed when he saw me. He ran the rest of the way down the stairs. ‘Did you kill Salmissra?’ he asked eagerly.

  ‘She was dead the last time I looked,’ I replied evasively.

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

  ‘That he did, lad,’ Beldin stepped in to cover my tail-feathers. ‘That he did.’

  Geran looked a bit apprehensively at the gnarled dwarf.

  ‘This is uncle Beldin, Geran,’ Pol introduced them.

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

  ‘It has its advantages, lad,’ Beldin replied. ‘I almost never hit my head on a low-hanging limb.’

  Geran laughed. ‘I like him, Aunt Pol.’

  ‘That wears off fairly soon.’

  ‘Don’t carry tales, Pol,’ Beldin chided. ‘Let the boy draw his own conclusions.’

  ‘I think we’d better bring Brand in on this,’ I said. ‘We’ve got a lot of things to talk about, and Brand’s the one who’s going to have to stand watch over the Orb, so he’ll need to know what’s coming.’

  ‘Do we know what’s coming, father?’ Pol asked.

  ‘Yer unspeakably clever old father’s actually devised a way t’ make sense outta th’ Mrin, me darlin’.’

  Geran giggled. ‘I really like him, Aunt Pol,’ he said.

  ‘I was afraid you might feel that way,’ she sighed. ‘Try not to let it get ahead of you.’

  ‘You go with Pol back to the Vale,’ I told Beldin. ‘Between the two of you, you can hold off anything this side of Torak himself, and Torak’s turning to stone at Ashaba. I’ll go get Brand, and we’ll get down to business.’ Then I went outside, blurred into feathers, and flew off toward the Isle of the Winds.

  It took Brand and me about three weeks to travel from the Isle of the Winds to the Vale, largely because nobody in his right mind goes through Ulgoland. When we arrived, we found that they’d started without us. The twins had picked up where I’d left off, and they’d roughed in the next several centuries. ‘Nothing much seems to be happening, Belgarath,’ Beltira told me. ‘So far as we can tell, the prophecies are concentrating on events in Mallorea. Are you and Brand hungry? Pol and I can fix something to eat if you’d like.’

  ‘A light snack, maybe. Something to tide us over till suppertime.’

  Pol rose and went over to the kitchen area. I looked around for Prince Geran. He was sitting quietly on a chair in the corner. I’ve noticed that characteristic again and again in his family. Some children absolutely must be the center of attention. The long line of little boys in Garion’s family, though, are so self-effacing that you hardly notice them. They watch and listen, but they keep their mouths shut. It’s a very good trait. You seldom learn anything while your mouth’s flapping. He was wearing very ordinary clothes. Polgara was already beginning to come up with ways to make the heirs to the Rivan throne as inconspicuous as possible.

  ‘Oh, something else,’ Belkira added. ‘The Third Age has ended. We’re in the Fourth Age now. Evidently a Dal went to Ashaba, and the minute he laid eyes on Torak, the Third Age ended.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ I replied.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘It means that we’ve got all our instructions. The Third Age was the Age of Prophecy. If it’s ended, it means that we’ve been told what’s going to happen and what to do about it. Nothing else is going to come along to confuse the issue. What’s going on in Mallorea that’s so interesting?’

  He picked up his copy of the Mrin, referred to the concordance, and unrolled the scroll until he found the index mark he wanted. ‘The Darine simply says that one man will gain ascendancy over all Mallorea. Here’s what the Mrin says. “And it shall come to pass that children shall be exchanged in the kingdoms of the east, and one such child shall ascend the throne of one kingdom by marriage and shall achieve dominion over the other by threat of force. And he shall make one of that which was once two. And in the joining of the two shall the way be cleared for the EVENT which shall take place in the Lands of the Bull God.” That’s about as far as we’ve gotten so far.’

  ‘What’s that to do with anything?’ I demanded.

  ‘The one it’s talking about was a young Angarak named Kallath,’ Beldin explained, ‘and his name made a very loud noise in Mallorea. The Angaraks and the Melcenes had been stepping around each other rather carefully for a long time - the Angaraks have more manpower, but the Melcenes had elephant cavalry. Neither side wanted war. That exchange of children was a Melcene idea. It was supposed to promote greater understanding between the two races. When Kallath was about twelve or so, he was sent to the island of Melcena to grow up in the house of the Minister of Foreign Affairs at the emperor’s court. He got to know the daughter of the Melcene Emperor, and they got married. That technically made Kallath the heir to the Melcene throne. He was ambitious, and he was an Angarak, so the other candidates started having fatal accidents. He was also the youngest member of the Angarak General Staff at Mal Zeth, and the Governor General of the District of Delchin in eastern Mallorea Proper. He had a capital at Maga Renn, which just happened to be snuggled up against the Melcene border - and he already had a power base in Angarak territory. If anybody could unite all of Mallorea, it was Kallath.’

  ‘Evidently that’s what happened,’ Brand noted.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Prince Geran said politely. ‘What’s supposed to happen in Arendia?’

  ‘An EVENT, your Highness,’ Beltira told him.

  ‘What kind of event?’

  ‘The Mrin uses that word when it’s talking about a meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark.’

  ‘A battle?’ The young Alorn’s eyes brightened.

  ‘Sometimes it is,’ I told him, ‘but not always. I was involved in one of those EVENTS, and there were only two people there.’

  Polgara was busy in the kitchen area, but she was obviously not missing very much. ‘It’s peculiar that this Kallath came along so recently,’ she mused, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘I don’t suppose it’s just a coincidence, is it?’

  ‘Not very likely, Pol,’ I said.

  ‘Excuse me again, please,’ Prince Geran said in that diffident, self-effacing tone. ‘If we’re coming up on one of those EVENTS you mentioned, wouldn’t Torak know about it, too?’

  ‘Inevitably,’ Beldin growled.

  ‘We can’t really surprise him then, can we?’

  ‘Not really,’ Beltira said. ‘We’re all more or less guided by our instructions.�
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  ‘Do you know what I think?’ Geran said. ‘I don’t think that what happened to my family had anything to do with the Orb or where it is, or who’s taking care of it. This Kallath person was doing something that Torak wants to happen. He knows that we know about it - because of those prophecies. We’d have tried to stop Kallath, so Torak sent Zedar out to do something to distract us. You all ran off to Nyissa to punish Salmissra for killing my family, and that left Kallath - or whoever came after him - free to finish up the job that Torak needed to have done. Killing my family was a -’ He paused, groping for a word.

  ‘Diversion,’ Belkira supplied. ‘You know, Belgarath, I think this boy’s hit the nail right square on the head. We all know Zedar, and he knows us. He knew exactly how we’d react to the murder of Gorek and his family. Something crucial was going on in Mallorea, and you and Beldin and the Alorns were down in Nyissa when it happened. We were all looking one way, and Torak and his people were slipping something past us while our attention was distracted.’

  Beldin swore. ‘It fits, Belgarath,’ he said to me. ‘It fits Torak, and it fits Zedar. How could we have been so stupid that we didn’t see it?’

  ‘Natural talent, I suppose,’ I replied glumly. ‘I think we’ve been had. Congratulations, Prince Geran. You came up with an answer we’d have pounded our heads on the wall for weeks to discover. How did you manage to pick it out so quickly?’

  ‘I can’t take any credit, grandfather,’ the boy replied modestly. ‘My tutors had started to teach me history before the Nyissans murdered my family. They were telling me about some of the things that used to happen in Tolnedra. As I understand it, the Vorduvians were very good at this sort of thing, and so were the Honeths.’