She rolled her eyes upward.
“Men!” She said.
Geran and I spent a pleasurable afternoon working a mountain stream
that tumbled down out of that little lake I mentioned before. We
didn’t have much time to talk, because the fish were biting, and that
kept us quite busy.
The next morning, I told them all good-bye and left for Erat. I wanted
to look in on Durnik. I knew that he was the Man with Two Lives, but I
didn’t realize at the time exactly what that was going to mean, or just
how important Durnik was going to be in all our lives. Now, of course,
he’s my son-in-law and the most recent disciple of my Master.
Isn’t it strange how these things turn out?
Durnik was about a year younger than Geran, but he was already very
strong. He was apprenticed to a blacksmith named Barl, and working
around a forge is one of the fastest ways I know of to develop
muscles.
Durnik was already a very serious young fellow, and he was growing up
to be a typical Sendar: sober, industrious, and steadfastly moral. I
seriously doubt that Durnik’s had an unclean or salacious thought in
his entire life.
I broke a buckle on my pack–quite deliberately–and I stopped by
Barl’s shop to get it fixed. Barl was busy shoeing a horse, so Durnik
repaired my buckle. We talked for a little bit, and then I moved on.
I frankly doubt that my son-in-law even remembers that meeting. I do,
though, because that brief conversation told me all I really needed to
know about him.
After I left Barl’s smithy, I turned south and proceeded down into
Arendia to look in on the Wildantors. The most typical of the family
was a young count, Reldegen, who seemed fully intent on going through
his life with his rapier half drawn. Reldegen was sort of what they
had in mind when they came up with the term “hothead.” He wasn’t quite
as prone to disaster as his nephew, Leildorin, would become, but he ran
him a close second. I liked him, though.
When I left Arendia, I hurried on back to the Vale. Winter was coming
anyway, and I wanted to find out if the twins had discovered anything
new. Events were plunging ahead, and scarcely a day went by that they
didn’t crack open another passage in the Mrin.
It wasn’t until 5344 that the problem in Algaria was resolved. Young
Hettar and his parents had been traveling alone near the Eastern
Escarpment, and they were attacked by Murgos. The Murgos killed the
boy’s parents and then dragged him behind a horse for several miles and
left him for dead. Cho-Hag found him a couple of days later and, in
time, adopted him. Hettar would be the next Chief of the Clan-Chiefs,
and it wouldn’t take a clan war to get him there. That was a relief.
In the spring of the following year, the twins strongly suggested that
I take Polgara to meet those young Alorns who would become so important
to us later.
“They really ought to get to know her, Belgarath,”
Belkira told me.
“The time’s going to come when you’ll all be doing important things
together, so they should be able to recognize her on sight. Alorns
have some peculiar prejudices where women are concerned, so you’d
better get them used to the idea that Pol’s no ordinary woman while
they’re still young. We’ll go up to Annath with you and keep an eye on
things while the two of you are gone.”
I couldn’t fault their reasoning, since they were Alorns themselves.
Besides, Pol was vegetating in Annath, and I thought it might not be a
bad idea for her to get away for a while.
You have no idea of how quickly she agreed with me about that.
We went on over to Algaria first, since it was right next door–so to
speak–and we finally ran Cho-Hag down. Algars do move around a lot.
Even at the age of eight, Hettar was a grim-faced little boy who spent
almost every waking moment practicing with his weapons and his
horses.
His eyes went absolutely flat every time anyone even mentioned the word
“Murgo.” He obviously already had plans for what would become his
life’s work. I don’t like Murgos all that much myself, but Hettar
takes it to extremes.
All Alorns have heard of me and my daughter, of course, so Cho-Hag
greeted us royally. I saw to it that Pol got the chance to talk with
Hettar at some length, and she was very dubious about him when we left
for Drasnia.
“I think he’s hovering right on the verge of insanity, father,” she
told me.
“He’ll be an absolute monster when he grows up, and he’ll eventually
become King of the Algars.”
“That’s a problem for the Murgos, isn’t it?” I replied.
“Don’t be so smug, Old Man. Hettar’s got all the makings of a
berserker, and I think there’ll be times when that could put us all in
danger. You do know that he’s a Sha-Dar, don’t you?”
“Yes. I sensed that the first time I saw him. Does he know yet?”
“He might. He knows that he’s a lot closer to horses than other Algars
are. He may not have made the connection yet. Are the other two
Alorns as wild as this one seems to be?”
“I haven’t seen either of them in a while. Kheldar should be fairly
civilized. He’s Drasnian, after all. I can’t make any promises about
Barak.
He’s Cherek, and that whole country’s full of wild men
Prince Kheldar, the nephew of Rhodar, crown prince of Drasnia, was a
small, wiry boy with a long, sharp nose, and he was already too clever
by half. Even at ten, he was smarter than most full-grown men. He
flattered Pol outrageously and won her over in about ten minutes. She
liked him, but she was wise enough not to trust him.
You should always keep that firmly in mind if you happen to have any
dealings with Silk. It’s perfectly all right to like him, but don’t
ever make the mistake of trusting him. He’s married now, but his
wife’s at least as devious as he is, so I wouldn’t trust her, either.
After we’d visited with Kheldar’s family for a few days, Pol and I went
down to Kotu and took ship for Val Alorn. When we got there, I
borrowed some horses at the palace, and we rode to Trellheim. Barak
was nine years old or so, and his cousin, Anheg, the crown prince of
Cherek, was about a year older. Anheg was visiting his cousin, and the
two of them were already almost as big as full-grown men. Barak had
flaming red hair, but Anheg’s hair was coarse and black. They were a
couple of rowdies, but that was to be expected. They were Chereks,
after all.
I introduced Pol to them, and she managed to get them to stay in one
place long enough for a talk.
“Well?” I said to her as we were riding back to Val Alorn.
“What do you think?”
“They’ll work out just fine,” she replied.
“They’re noisy and boastful, but they’re both very intelligent. Anheg’s
going to make a very good king, I think, and he already relies on
Barak.”
“Did you get any sense of what that
“Dreadful Bear’ business is all about?”
“Not entirely. It’s got something to do with the Godslayer. It could
simply mean that Barak’s going to go berserk if the Godslayer’s in any
kind of danger, but it might go even further. Maybe it’ll get clearer
by the time Barak’s full grown.”
“Let’s hope so. I’d like to know about it a little in advance if
there’s going to be an actual change.”
We sailed back to Darine from Val Alorn, and then went on to Annath.
The twins went back to the Vale, and I said good-bye to Pol and took
the Great North Road back to Boktor. I wanted to have a look at Prince
Kheldar’s uncle, Rhodar, the crown prince of Drasnia. I talked with
him a bit, and I wasn’t disappointed. Even as a young man, Rhodar was
decidedly chubby, but what a mind he had! The three of them, Rhodar,
Anheg, and Cho-Ram, were all going to be outstanding kings, and I was
fairly sure we were going to need all their talents when things started
to come to a head.
I was on the go almost continually then, so I seldom got back to the
Vale to talk with the twins. We stayed in touch, though.
Then, in the spring of 5346, they told me that Pol had gone off on
another of those mysterious errands of hers and that they were filling
in for her at Annath.
I hurried back there so that I could talk with them face to face. Our
means of communication was convenient, I’ll grant you, but there were