David and Leigh Eddings – Belgarath the Sorcerer

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 always have 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 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

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *