David and Leigh Eddings – Belgarath the Sorcerer

Despite its peculiarities, Marag culture was functional, and they had

not yet begun the practice of ritual cannibalism that their neighbors

found so repugnant and that ultimately led to their near extinction.

They were a generous people–the women particularly, and I got along

quite well with them. I don’t know that I need to go into too much

detail. This book will almost certainly fall into Polgara’s hands

eventually, and she has strong opinions about some things that aren’t

really all that important.

After several years, we all returned to the Vale and gathered once more

in our Master’s tower to report on what we had seen.

With a certain delicacy, our Master had sent Belsambar north to see

what the Morindim and the Karands were doing. It really wouldn’t have

been a good idea to send him back into the lands of the Angaraks. He

had very strong feelings about the Grolim priesthood, and our journeys

were supposed to be fact-finding missions. We weren’t out there to

right wrongs or to impose our own notions of justice. In retrospect,

though, we probably could have saved the world a great deal of pain and

suffering if we’d simply turned Belsambar loose on the Grolims. It

would have caused bad blood between Torak and our Master, though, and

that came soon enough anyway.

It was Belzedar who went down to the north side of Korim to observe the

Angaraks. Isn’t it funny how things turn out? What he saw in those

mountains troubled him very much. Torak always had an exaggerated

notion of his significance in the overall scheme of things, and he

encouraged his Angaraks to become excessive in their worship. They’d

raised a temple to him in the High Places of Korim where the Grolim

priesthood ecstatically butchered their fellow Angaraks by the hundreds

while Torak looked on approvingly.

The religious practices of the various races of man were really none of

our business, but Belzedar found cause for alarm in the beliefs of the

Angaraks. Torak made no secret of the fact that he considered himself

several cuts above his brothers, and he was evidently encouraging his

people to feel the same way about themselves.

“It’s just a matter of time, I’m afraid,” Belzedar concluded

somberly.

“Sooner or later, they’re going to try to impose their notion of their

own superiority on the rest of mankind, and that won’t work. If

someone doesn’t persuade Torak to stop filling the heads of the

Angaraks with that obscene sense of superiority, there’s very likely

going to be war in the South.”

Then Belsambar told us that the Morindim and the Karands had become

demon-worshipers but that they posed no real threat to the rest of

mankind, since the demons devoted themselves almost exclusively to

eating the magicians who raised them.

Beldin reported that the Arends had grown even more stupid–if that’s

possible–and that they all lived in a more or less perpetual state of

war.

Belmakor had passed through the lands of the Nyissans on his way to

Melcena, and he reported that the Snake People were still fearfully

primitive.

No one’s ever accused the Nyissans of being energetic, but you’d think

they might have at least started building houses by now. The Melcenes,

of course, did build houses–probably more than they really needed–but

it kept them out of mischief. On his way back, he passed through Kell,

and he told us that the Dals were much involved in arcane

studies–astrology, necromancy, and the like. The Dals spend so much

of their time trying to look into the future that they tend to lose

sight of the present. I hate mystics! The only good part of it was

that they were so fuzzy-headed that they didn’t pose a threat to

anybody else.

The Alorns, of course, were an entirely different matter. They’re a

noisy, belligerent people who’ll fight at the drop of a hat. Beltira

and Belkira looked in on their fellow Alorns. Fortunately for the sake

of world peace, the Alorns, like the Arends, spent most of their time

fighting each other rather than doing war on other races, but the twins

strongly suggested that we keep an eye on them. I have been doing just

that for the past five thousand years. It was probably that more than

anything else that turned my hair white. Alorns can get into more

trouble by accident than other people can on purpose–always excepting

the Arends, of course. Arends are perpetually a catastrophe waiting to

explode.

Our Master considered our reports carefully and concluded that the

world outside the Vale was generally peaceful and that only the

Angaraks were likely to cause trouble. He told us that he’d have a

word with his brother Torak about that particular problem, pointing out

to him that if any kind of general war broke out, the Gods themselves

would inevitably be drawn in, and that would be disastrous.

“Methinks I can make him see reason,” Aldur told us. Reason? Torak?

Sometimes my Master’s optimism got the better of him.

As I recall, he had been absently fondling that strange grey stone of

his as we made our reports. He’d had the thing for so long that I

don’t think he even realized that it was in his hand. Over the years

since he’d spoken with UL about it, I don’t think he’d once put it

down, and it somehow almost became a part of him.

Naturally it was Belzedar who noticed it. I wonder how everything

might have turned out if he hadn’t.

“What is that strange jewel. Master?”

he asked. Better far that his tongue had fallen out before he asked

that fatal question.

“This Orb?” Aldur replied, holding it up for all of us to see.

“In it lies the fate of the world.” It was then for the first time

that I noticed that the stone seemed to have a faint blue flicker deep

inside of it. It was, as I think I’ve mentioned before, polished by a

thousand years or more of our Master’s touch, and it was now, as

Belzedar had so astutely noticed, more a jewel than a piece of plain,

country rock.

“How can so small an object be so important, Master?” Belzedar asked.

That’s another question I wish he’d never thought of. If he’d just

been able to let it drop, none of what’s happened would have happened,

and he wouldn’t be in his present situation. Despite all of our

training, there are some questions better left unanswered.

Unfortunately, our Master had a habit of answering questions, and so

things came out that might better have been left buried. If they had,

I might not currently be carrying a load of guilt that I’m not really

strong enough to bear. I’d rather carry a mountain than carry what I

did to Belzedar. Garion might understand that, but I’m fairly sure

none of the rest of my savage family would. Regrets? Yes, of course I

have regrets.

I’ve got regrets stacked up behind me at least as far as from here to

the moon. But we don’t die from regret, do we? We might squirm a

little, but we don’t die.

And our Master smiled at my brother Belzedar, and the Orb grew

brighter. I seemed to see images flickering dimly within it.

“Herein lies the past,” our Master told us, “and the present, and the

future, also. This is but a small part of the virtue of the Orb. With

it may man–or earth herself–be healed or destroyed. Whatsoever man

or God would do, though it be beyond even the power of the Will and the

Word, with this Orb may it come to pass.”

“Truly a wondrous thing, Master,” Belzedar said, looking a bit puzzled,

“but still I fail to understand. The jewel is fair, certainly, but in

fine it is yet but a stone.”

“The Orb hath revealed the future unto me, my son,” our Master replied

sadly.

“It shall be the cause of much contention and great suffering and vast

destruction. Its power reaches from where it now lies to blow out the

lives of men yet unborn as easily as thou wouldst snuff out a

candle.”

“It’s an evil thing then, Master,” I said, and Belsambar and Belmakor

agreed.

“Destroy it, Master,” Belsambar pleaded, “before it can bring its evil

into the world.”

“That may not be,” our Master replied.

“Blessed be the wisdom of Aldur,” Belzedar said, his eyes glittering

strangely.

“With us to aid him, our Master may wield this wondrous jewel for good

instead of ill. It would be monstrous to destroy so precious a thing.”

Now that I look back at everything that’s happened, I suppose I

shouldn’t really blame Belzedar for his unholy interest in the Orb. It

was a part of something that absolutely had to happen. I shouldn’t

blame him for it–but I do.

“I tell ye, my sons,” our Master continued,

“I would not destroy the Orb even were it possible. Ye have all just

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