however. I was summoned, the same as the rest of you were, and that’s
an end on it.”
I remembered the odd compulsion that had dragged me out of Gara, and I
looked sharply at my Master. Would you believe that he actually
managed to look slightly embarrassed?
Belzedar spluttered for a while, but, since there was nothing he could
do about it anyway, he muffled his objections.
The next to join us was Sambar, an Angarak. Sambar–or Belsambar as he
later became–was not his real name, of course. Angarak names are so
universally ugly that my Master did him a favor when he renamed him.
I felt a great deal of sympathy for the boy–he was only about fifteen
when he joined us. I have never seen anyone so abject. He simply came
to the tower, seated himself on the earth, and waited for either
acceptance or death. Beltira and Belkira fed him, of course. They
were shepherds, after all, and shepherds won’t let anything go hungry.
After a week or so, when it became obvious that he absolutely would not
enter the tower, our Master went down to him. Now that was something I
had never seen Aldur do before. He spoke with the lad at some length
in a hideous language–old Angarak, I’ve since discovered–and turned
him over to Beltira and Belkira for tutelage. If anyone ever needed
gentle handling, it was Belsambar.
In time, the twins taught him to speak a normal language that didn’t
involve so much spitting and snarling, and we learned his history. My
distaste for Torak dates from that point in time. It may not have been
entirely Torak’s fault, however. I’ve learned over the years that the
views of any priesthood are not necessarily the views of the Gods they
serve. I’ll give Torak the benefit of the doubt in this case–the
practice of human sacrifice might have been no more than a perversion
of his Grolim priests.
But he did nothing to put a stop to it, and that’s unforgivable.
To cut all this windy moralizing short, Belsambar’s parents–both of
them–had been sacrificed, and Belsambar had been required to watch as
a demonstration of his faith. It didn’t really work out that way,
though.
Grolims can be so stupid sometimes. Anyway, at the tender age of nine,
Belsambar became an atheist, rejecting not only Torak and his stinking
Grolims, but all Gods.
That was when our Master summoned him. In his particular case, the
summoning must have been a bit more spectacular than the vague urge
that had turned my face toward the Vale. Belsambar was clearly in a
state of religious ecstasy when he reached us. Of course he was an
Angarak, and they’re always a little strange in matters of religion.
It was Belmakor who first raised the notion of building our own
towers.
He was a Melcene, after all, and they’re obsessed with building things.
I’ll admit that our Master’s tower was starting to get a bit crowded,
though.
The construction of those towers took us several decades, as I
recall.
It was actually more in the nature of a hobby than it was a matter of
any urgency. We did use what you might call our advantages in the
construction, of course, but squaring off rocks is a tedious business,
even if you don’t have to use a chisel. We did manage to clear away a
lot of rock, though, and building material got progressively scarcer as
the years rolled by.
I think it was late summer one year when I decided that it was time to
finish up my tower so that I wouldn’t have it hanging over my head
nagging at me. Besides, Belmakor’s tower was almost finished, and I
was first disciple, after all. I didn’t think it would really be
proper for me to let him outstrip me. We sometimes do things for the
most childish of reasons, don’t we?
Since my brothers and I had virtually denuded the Vale of rocks, I went
up to the edge of the forest lying to the north in search of building
materials. I was poking around among the trees looking for a
stream-bed or an outcropping of stone when I suddenly felt a baleful
stare boring into the back of my neck. That’s an uncomfortable feeling
that’s always irritated me for some reason.
“You might as well come out,” I said.
“I know you’re there.”
“Don’t try anything,” an awful voice growled at me from a nearby
thicket.
“I’ll rip you to pieces if you do.”
Now that’s what I call an unpromising start.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I replied.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
That evoked the ugliest laugh I’ve ever heard.
“You?” the voice said scornfully.
“You? Hurt we?” And then the bushes parted and the most hideous
creature I’ve ever seen emerged. He was grotesquely deformed, with a
huge hump on his back; gnarled, dwarfed legs; and long, twisted arms.
This combination made it possible–even convenient–for him to go on
all fours like a gorilla. His face was monumentally ugly, his hair and
beard were matted, he was unbelievably filthy, and he was partially
dressed in a ratty-looking fur of some kind.
“Enjoying the view?” he demanded harshly.
“You’re not so pretty yourself, you know.”
“You startled me, that’s all,” I replied, trying to be civil.
“Have you seen an old man in a rickety, broken-down cart around here
anywhere?” the creature demanded.
“He told me he’d meet me here.”
I stared at him in absolute astonishment.
“You’d better close your mouth,” he advised me in that raspy growl.
“You’ll catch flies if you don’t.”
All sorts of things clicked into place.
“This old man you’re looking for,” I said.
“Did he have a humorous way of talking?”
“That’s him,” the dwarf said.
“Have you seen him?”
“Oh, yes,” I replied with a broad grin.
“I’ve known him for longer than you could possibly imagine. Come
along, my ugly little friend. I’ll take you to him.”
“Don’t be too quick to throw the word “friend” around,” he growled.
“I don’t have any friends, and I like it that way.”
“You’ll get over that in a few hundred years,” I replied, still
grinning at the little monster.
“You don’t sound quite right in the head to me.”
“You’ll get used to that, too. Come along. I’ll introduce you to your
Master.”
“I don’t have a master.”
“I wouldn’t make any large wagers on that.”
And that was our introduction to Din. My brothers thought at first
that I’d come across a tame ape. Din rather quickly disabused them of
that notion. He had by far the foulest mouth I’ve ever come across,
even when he wasn’t trying to be insulting, and I honestly believe he
could swear for a day and a half without once repeating himself. He
was even ungracious to our Master. His very first words to him were
“What did you do with that stupid cart of yours? I tried to follow the
tracks, but they just disappeared on me.”
Aldur, with that inhuman patience of his, simply smiled. Would you
believe that he actually liked the foul-mouthed little monster?
“Is that what took thee so long?” he asked mildly.
“Of course that’s what took me so long!” Din exploded.
“You didn’t leave me a trail to follow! I had to reason out your
location!” Din had turned losing his temper into an art form. The
slightest thing could set him off.
“Well?” he said then.
“Now what?”
“We must see to thine education.”
“What does somebody like me need with an education? I already know
what I need to know.”
Aldur gave him a long, steady look, and even Din couldn’t face that for
long. Then our Master looked around at the rest of us. He obviously
dismissed Beltira and Belkira out of hand. They hadn’t the proper
temperament to deal with our newest recruit. Belzedar was in a state
verging on inarticulate rage. Belzedar may have had his faults, but he
wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect for our Master. Belmakor was too
fastidious. Din was filthy, and he smelled like an open sewer.
Belsambar, for obvious reasons, was totally out of question. Guess who
that left.
I wearily raised my hand.
“Don’t trouble thyself, Master,” I said.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Why, Belgarath,” he said, “how gracious of thee to volunteer thy
service.”
I chose not to answer that.
“Ah, Belgarath?” Belmakor said tentatively.
“What?”
“Could you possibly wash him off before you bring him inside again?”
Despite my show of reluctance, I wasn’t quite as displeased with the
arrangement as I pretended to be. I still wanted to finish my tower,
and this powerful dwarf seemed well suited to the task of carrying
rocks. If things worked out the way I thought they might, I wouldn’t
have to strain my creativity in the slightest to find things for my
ugly little servant to do.
I took him outside and showed him my half-finished tower.