I laughed. ‘I might as well,’ I said. ‘Your Aunt’s nailed me to the ground here until she gets back, so we’ll have lots of time for stories.’ I looked at him a bit more closely. Although, like most of the members of his family, he’d been born with that sandy-colored hair, Geran’s hair was beginning to turn dark. He’d never be as big as Iron-grip had been, but I could already see certain resemblances.
A little word of caution here, if you don’t mind. When you know that something’s going to happen, you’ll start trying to see signs of its approach in just about everything. Always try to remember that most of the things that happen in this world aren’t signs. They happen because they happen, and their only real significance lies in normal cause and effect. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you start trying to pry the meaning out of every gust of wind or rain-squall. I’m not denying that there might actually be a few signs that you won’t want to miss. Knowing the difference is the tricky part.
I’ve always enjoyed the company of my grandsons. There’s a peculiarly earnest quality about them that I find appealing. I’m not trying to say that they don’t occasionally do things that are a bit foolish and sometimes downright dangerous - Garion’s encounter with the wild boar in the woods outside Val Alorn sort of leaps to mind - but if you’re willing to follow their occasionally faulty reasoning, you’ll find that, in their own minds at least, most of the things they do are fully justified. The descendants of Iron-grip and Beldaran have always been very serious little boys. A sense of humor might have rounded out their personalities, but you can’t have everything.
Despite the fact that Polgara had ruthlessly dragooned me into watching over Geran, I’ll admit that I enjoyed those months I spent with him. I’ll never be the kind of fisherman Durnik is, but I know the basics - which is to say that I can bait a hook. But Geran was at that age in a young boy’s life when catching fish becomes an all-consuming passion. Years of observation have taught me that this particular passion crops up just before the boy suddenly realizes that there are two kinds of people in the world - boy people and girl people. In a general sort of way, most boys approve of that.
If only they wouldn’t behave as if they thought they’d invented it.
Anyway, Geran and I spent that spring and summer in search of the wily trout. There are other kinds of fish in the world, of course, but it’s always seemed to me that trout are the most challenging. Moreover, if you’re not too noisy about it, you can have some fairly serious conversations while you’re waiting for the fish to start biting.
I particularly remember one truly miserable, but at the same time absolutely wonderful day my grandson and I spent huddled on a makeshift raft in the center of a small mountain lake with a drizzling rain hissing into the water around us. I’m not sure exactly why, but the trout were in a positive frenzy. Geran and I caught more fish that day than we’d normally catch in a week.
About mid-afternoon, when we were both soaked to the skin and the wicker basket we’d brought along ‘just in case we got lucky’ was filled almost to the brim with silvery-sided trout, things began to slow down a bit. ‘This is really a lot of fun, grandfather,’ my fishing partner noted. ‘I wish we could do it more often.’
‘Geran,’ I replied, ‘we’ve been out fishing every day for the past three weeks. You can’t get much more often than that.’
‘Yes, but today we’re catching them.’
I laughed. ‘That always seems to help,’ I agreed.
‘We’re not the same as other people, are we?’ he asked then.
‘Because we both like to fish? There are a lot of fishermen in the world, Geran.’
‘That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about our family. It seems to me that there’s something sort of different about us - something a little odd and special.’ He made a small face and wiped the water off his nose on his sleeve. ‘I didn’t say that very well, did I? I’m not trying to say that we’re really important or anything like that, but we’re just not like other people - at least that’s the way it seems to me. Aunt Pol never talks to me about it, but sometimes at night I can hear her talking with my father down in the kitchen before I go to sleep. She knows a lot of people, doesn’t she?’
‘Your Aunt? Oh, yes, Geran. Your Aunt Pol knows people in just about every kingdom in the west.’
‘What I can’t understand is how she got to know all those kings and nobles and such. She almost never goes anywhere. You know what I think?’
‘What’s that, boy?’
‘I think Aunt Pol’s a lot older than she looks.’
‘She’s what they call “well-preserved”, Geran. I wouldn’t make a big issue of it, if I were you, though. Ladies are a little sensitive about how old they are.’
‘You’re old, and it doesn’t seem to bother you.’
‘That’s because I never really grew up. I still know how to have fun. That’s what keeps you young. Your Aunt thinks that having fun isn’t important.’
‘She’s very strange, isn’t she? Sometimes I think she’s the strangest woman in the world.’
I broke down and laughed at that point.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Someday I’ll explain it to you. You’re right, though. Our family is special, but it’s important right now for us all to behave as if we were ordinary. Your Aunt will explain it to you when you’re a little older.’
‘Does it make you feel good? Being special, I mean?’
‘Not really. It’s just something else that you have to carry around with you. It’s not all that complicated, Geran. There’s something very important that our family has to do, and there are people in the world who don’t want us to do it.’
‘We’ll do it anyway, though, won’t we?’ His boyish face was very determined.
‘I think we probably will - but that’s still a ways off yet. Are you going to pull that fish in? Or are you planning to just keep him on the line for the rest of the day?’
My grandson gave a small whoop and pulled in a trout that probably weighed about five pounds.
I think back on that day fairly often. All things considered, it was one of the better ones.
It was almost winter when Polgara returned. The leaves had changed color and then fallen to the ground, the sky had turned grey, and there was the smell of approaching snow when she came walking down the single street of Annath with a blue cloak wrapped about her and a look of satisfaction on her face.
I saw her coming and I went out to meet her. ‘Back so soon, Pol?’ I bantered. ‘We hardly even had time to miss you. Now do you suppose you could tell me where you went and what you were doing?’
She shrugged. ‘I had to go to Nyissa again. There were some people there I had to meet.’
‘Oh? Who?’
‘Zedar, for one, and the current Salmissra for another.’
‘Pol, stay away from Zedar! You’re good, but not that good.’
‘It was required, father. Zedar and I have to know each other. It’s one of those things.’
‘What’s Zedar up to?’ I demanded.
‘I can’t see why you’ve all been so excited about Zedar. Actually, he’s rather pathetic. He’s terribly shabby, he’s not eating right, and he looks awfully unhealthy.’
‘Good. I wish him all the pleasures of ill-health. I’ll even invent some new diseases for him, if what’s currently available starts to bore him.’
‘You’re a barbarian, father.’
‘You’ve noticed. What’s he doing in Nyissa?’
‘As far as I can tell, he’s turned into a vagabond. He’s sort of wandering around the world desperately looking for something - or somebody.’
‘Let’s all hope that he doesn’t find whatever or whomever it is.’
‘On the contrary, he absolutely has to. If he doesn’t find it, you’re going to have to find it yourself, and you wouldn’t even know where to begin looking.’
‘Does he?’
‘No. What he’s looking for is going
to find him.’
And that was the first hint we had that Eriond was coming. Beldin and I talked about it once, and we sort of agreed that Eriond and Torak were mirror images of each other - Torak on one side, and Eriond on the other. Each of them was the exact opposite of his counterpart.
Sometimes I wonder if Torak knew that he was a mistake.
That in itself would justify my entire existence.
‘Why did you have to talk to Salmissra?’ I asked.
‘To warn her,’ my daughter replied. ‘She’ll do something in a few years, and I’ll have to do something to her in return. She won’t like it much - and neither will I.’ Polgara sighed. ‘It’s going to be fairly dreadful, I’m afraid, but I won’t have any choice.’ She suddenly threw her arms around me and buried her face in my shoulder. ‘Oh, father,’ she wept, ‘why do I have to be the one who has to do it?’
‘Because you’re the only one who can, Pol.’ Then I patted her shoulder. ‘There, there,’ I said. ‘There, there.’
The next couple of years were quiet, and that made me very edgy. The most momentous event in the history of the world was right on the verge of happening, and I wanted to get on with it. I’m not really very good at waiting.
Then, in 5340, Ran Borune XXIII was crowned Emperor of Tolnedra, and not long thereafter he was married to one of his cousins, a red-haired Dryad named Ce’Vanne. The twins found that highly significant, and they assured me that the marriage would result in the birth of ‘the Queen of the World.’ If they were right, and they almost always were, this meant that when Geran reached adulthood and married, he’d become the father of the one we’d all been waiting for.
Not long after that, Beldin came back to the Vale. ‘I see that you finally got tired of watching that cave,’ I said to him after he’d come up the stairs to my tower.
‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘Some things have been happening, haven’t they?’
‘A few. We’re getting closer to the birth of the Godslayer.’
‘I thought it might be something like that. A few months back, I suddenly got a powerful urge to go out and have a look around. The Murgos have a new king, Taur Urgas, and he’s as crazy as a loon. There’s nothing new or startling about that; all the Urgas are crazy. Taur Urgas carries it to extremes, though. I saw him once in Rak Goska, and I think he’s going to figure in events.’
‘Is there any sign of his Mallorean counterpart yet?’
He nodded. ‘His name’s Zakath. He hasn’t been crowned emperor yet, but I don’t think it’s going to be much longer. His father’s in failing health. For an Angarak, Zakath’s a remarkably civilized man. From what I gather, he’s extremely intelligent, and his tutors were able to persuade his father to let him attend the University in Melcene. An educated Mallorean emperor’s going to be a novelty. How many of the companions have showed up so far?’
‘Six that I know of. The “Guide” and the “Blind Man” were born in 5335, the “Dreadful Bear” in ’36, and the “Horse Lord” and the “Knight Protector” in ’37.’
‘That’s only five.’
‘I thought you already knew about the “Man with Two Lives”. He was born earlier - 5330, I think. He’s apprenticed to a blacksmith in Erat in central Sendaria.’
‘Any hints about the others?’
‘The twins think that the present Tolnedran emperor’s going to produce the Godslayer’s wife.’
‘That sort of nails things down, doesn’t it? How’s Pol?’
‘Difficult, the same as always. She went to Nyissa a couple of years ago, and she met Zedar down there.’
‘And you let her?’
‘Let is a term that doesn’t apply when you’re talking about Pol. You should know that by now, Beldin. Actually, she didn’t bother to tell me where she was going. She told me afterward that she and Zedar have to know each other. She’s getting instructions from someplace other than the Mrin.’
‘I’m sure she is. Oh, I almost forgot. There’s a new king in Gar og Nadrak, too. His name’s Drosta lek Thun, and he was only twelve when they put him on the throne.’
‘Did you see him?’
‘No. I heard about it when I was in Rak Goska. Are the Algars going to do anything about their Crown Prince?’
‘What do you mean, “do anything about him”?’
‘He’s a cripple, isn’t he? I don’t think the Algars are very likely to accept a defective as king.’
‘He’ll probably be all right. Once he’s on a horse, he’s as good as any Algar alive.’ I scratched at my beard. ‘I’m a little concerned about it, though. The Mrin says that the “Horse Lord” is going to be his son, and the “Horse Lord” has 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 story-teller 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’d 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.’
Belgarath the Sorcerer Page 75