to look in on Barak’s grandfather, who was every bit as big and
red-bearded as the “Dreadful Bear” turned out to be, and quite nearly
as intelligent. Everything seemed in order at Trellheim, so I went on
to the village where Polgara was watching over the family of Garion’s
great-grandfather, another one of those Gerans. Pol likes to slip that
name in about every other generation, I think it has something to do
with her sense of continuity.
This particular Geran had just married a blonde Cherek girl, and things
seemed to be going along the way they were supposed to.
After we’d done all the usual things people do at family reunions, I
finally got the chance to talk privately with my daughter.
“I think we’re going to have some problems with the Dryad princess when
the time comes,” I warned her.
“Oh? What sort of problems?”
“They’re not particularly docile. We’ve been marrying all these young
men to Alorn girls, and Alorn women are fairly placid. The Dryads in
the Borune family are anything but placid. They’re willful, spoiled,
and very devious.” I told her about Princess Ce’Bronne and our trip to
Riva.
“I’ll take care of it, father,” she assured me.
“I’m sure you will, Pol, but I thought I ought to warn you. I think
you’re going to find the Rivan Queen quite a handful. Don’t ever make
the mistake of believing anything she tells you.”
“I can handle her when the time comes, father. Where are you going
from here?”
“Drasnia. I want to look in on the family of the Guide.”
“Are we getting at all close to the time?”
“The twins think we are. They’re starting to see some of the signs and
omens. They seem to think that what we’ve been waiting for is going to
happen in the next century or so.”
“Then I’ll be out of a job, won’t I?”
“Oh, I think we’ll be able to find something for you to do, Pol.”
“Thanks awfully, Old Man. If we’re getting that close, I’d better
think about relocating to Sendaria, shouldn’t I?” She looked directly
at me.
“I
can read the Darine and the Mrin as well as you can, father.” She told
me.
“I know where the Godslayer’s supposed to be born.”
“I guess we’d better start thinking about it,” I agreed.
“After I’m finished in Drasnia, I’ll go back to the Vale and talk with
the twins. Maybe they’ve picked up something more definite. This
wouldn’t be a good time to start making mistakes.”
“When are you leaving for Drasnia?”
“Tomorrow ought to be soon enough. Do you suppose you could make one
of those cherry tarts for breakfast, Pol? I haven’t had one of your
cherry tarts for over a century now, and I’ve really missed them.”
She gave me a long, steady look.
“Yours are the very best, Pol,” I said without even smiling.
“There’s an idea for you. After we get the Godslayer on his throne,
you could open a pastry shop.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“You said you were going to be looking for a job, Pol. I’m just making
a few suggestions, is all.”
She even had the grace to laugh.
The next morning I left for Drasnia. Silk’s grandfather was in the
import business, dealing mainly in spices, and working for Drasnian
intelligence on the side. There’s nothing very unusual about that,
though. All Drasnian merchants work for Drasnian intelligence on the
side. Once again, everything was on schedule, so I went on back to the
Vale.
I was a bit surprised to find that the twins weren’t around when I got
home. They’d left a rather cryptic note for me–something about an
urgent summons from Polgara. I tried to reach out to them with my
mind, but for some reason I couldn’t get them to answer. I swore a
little bit, and then I turned around to go back to Cherek. I was
starting to get just a little tired of all this traveling.
It was late in the summer when I reached Val Alorn again, and I went on
out to the village where Pol lived with her little family. She wasn’t
there, however. The twins were minding things instead. They were just
a bit evasive when I asked them where she was.
“She asked us not to tell you, Belgarath,” Beltira said with a slightly
pained expression.
“And I’m asking you to ignore her,” I told him flatly.
“All right, you two, give. I don’t have time to tear the world apart
looking for her.
Where’d she go?”
They looked at each other.
“She’s a long way ahead of him by now,”
Belkira said to his brother.
“I don’t think he could catch her, so we might as well tell him.”
“You’re probably right,” Beltira agreed.
“She’s gone to Nyissa, Belgarath.”
“Nyissa? What for?”
“Pol’s got ways to get information–and instructions. You knew about
that, of course, didn’t you?”
I’d known for quite a long time now that Pol received her own
instructions.
It simply never occurred to me that hers might come from a different
source than mine. I nodded.
“Anyway,” Beltira went on,
“Pol received a warning that Ctuchik’s been following up on something
Zedar did back at the beginning of the fifth millennium. He’s been in
contact with the current Salmissra, and he’s just about persuaded her
to join with him. Pol was instructed to go to Sthiss Tor to talk her
out of it.”
“Why Pol?” I asked him.
“I could have taken care of that.”
“Pol didn’t go into too much detail,” Belkira replied.
“You know how she can be sometimes. Evidently it’s something that
requires a woman’s touch.”
“We aren’t the only ones who have prophecies, Belgarath,” Beltira
reminded me.
“The Salmissras have their own ways to see into the future.
They’ve all been far more afraid of Polgara than they have been of
you.
Pol’s going to do something pretty awful to one of the Serpent queens,
I guess, and she’s gone to Sthiss Tor to ask the current Salmissra if
she’s volunteering to be the one it happens to. That all by itself
should be enough to persuade Salmissra to break off her contacts with
Ctuchik.”
“All right, but why all this subterfuge? Why didn’t she just tell me
about it? Why did she sneak around behind my back?”
Belkira smiled.
“She explained it to us,” he said.
“You don’t really want us to repeat what she said, do you?”
“I think I can probably live with it. Go ahead and tell me.”
He shrugged.
“It’s up to you. She said that you’re tiresomely overprotective and
that every time she sets out to do something, you argue with her about
it for weeks on end. Then she said that she was going to do this
whether you liked it or not, and that things would go more smoothly if
you kept your nose out of it.” He grinned at me.
“I don’t think that’s particularly funny, Belkira.”
“It was when she said it. I’ve glossed over some of the words she
used.
Pol’s got quite a vocabulary, hasn’t she?”
I have him a long, steady look.
“Why don’t we just drop it?” I suggested.
“Anything you say, brother.”
“The next time she talks with you, ask her to stop by the Vale on her
way home. Tell her that I’m looking forward to a little chat.”
Then I turned around and went on back to the Vale.
About a month later, Pol obediently came to my tower. I’d calmed down
by then, so I didn’t berate her–at least not too much.
“You seem to be taking this very well, Old Man,” she noted.
“There’s not much point in screaming about something after it’s over.
Exactly what was Ctuchik up to?”
“The usual,” she replied.
“He’s trying to subvert enough people in the West to help him when the
time comes. The Murgos have reopened the South Caravan Route, and
they’re flooding into the West again. I think we’d all better start
concentrating on the Mrin Codex. Ctuchik seems to believe that things
are coming to a head. He’s doing everything he can to drive the
Western Kingdoms apart. He definitely doesn’t want us to be unified
next time the way we were at Vo Mimbre. Angarak alliances are tenuous
at best, and it seems that Ctuchik wants to sow dissention in the West
to offset that.”
“You’re getting very good at this, Pol.”
“I’ve had a good teacher.”
“Thank you,” I said, and for a minute there, I felt unaccountably
grateful to that unpredictable daughter of mine.
“Don’t mention it.” She grinned at me.
“Why don’t you get back to Cherek and send the twins home? If
anybody’s going to get anything definite out of the Mrin, they’ll be
the ones who’ll do it.”
“Whatever you say, father.”
It took the twins until the turn of the century to start getting what