entrails for something like this.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“We used a horse instead. Horse guts never lie.”
Alorns!
“I wish you all the luck in the world, Cherek,” I told him, “but I
won’t be going with you.”
A pained look came over his massive, bearded face.
“There’s a bit of a problem there, Belgarath. The auguries clearly
state that we’ll fail if you don’t go along.”
“You can gut a dragon if you want to, Cherek, but I’m staying right
here. Take the twins–or I’ll send for Beldin.”
“It wouldn’t be the same, Belgarath. It has to be you. Even the stars
say that.”
“Astrology, too? You Alorns are branching out, aren’t you? Do the
priests of Belar sprinkle stars on the gut pile?”
“Belgarath!” he said in a shocked tone of voice.
“That’s sacrilegious!”
“Tell me,” I said sarcastically, “have your priests tried a crystal
ball yet? Or tea leaves?”
“All right, Belgarath, that’s enough.” It was one of the very few
times I’ve ever heard that voice. Garion’s been hearing it since he
was a child, but it seldom had occasion to speak to me. Needless to
say, I was just a bit startled. I even looked around to see where it
was coming from, but there wasn’t anybody there. The voice was inside
my head.
“Are you ready to listen?” it demanded.
“Who are you?”
“You know who I am. Stop arguing. You WILL go to Mallorea, and you
WILL go now. It’s one of those things that has to happen. You’d
better go talk with Aldur.” And then the sense of that other presence
in my mind was gone.
I was more than a little shaken by this visitation. I suppose I tried
to deny it, but I did know who had been talking to me.
“Wait here,” I bluntly told the King of Aloria and his sons.
“I have to go talk with Aldur.”
“I can see that thou art troubled, my son,” our Master said to me after
I’d entered his tower.
“Bear-shoulders and those overgrown sons of his are out there,” I
reported.
“They’ve found a way to get to Mallorea, and they want me to go with
them. It’s a very bad time for me, Master. Poledra’s due sometime in
the next couple of months, and I really should be here. Cherek’s very
insistent, but I told him that they’d have to go without me.”
“And?” My Master knew that there was more.
“I had a visitation. I was told in no uncertain terms that I had to go
along.”
“That is most rare, my son. The Purpose doth not often speak to us
directly.”
“I was afraid you’d look at it that way,” I admitted glumly.
“Can’t this be put off?”
“Nay, my son. The TIME is part of the EVENT. Once missed, it will not
return, and in the loss of this opportunity, we might well fail. This
entails a great sacrifice for thee, my son–greater than thou canst
ever know–but it must be made. We are compelled by Necessity, and
Necessity will brook no opposition.”
“Somebody’s got to stay with Poledra, Master,” I protested.
“Mayhap one of thy brothers will agree to stand in thy stead. Thy
task, however, is clear. If the voice of Necessity hath told thee to
go, thou must surely go.”
“I don’t like this, Master,” I complained.
“That is not required, my son. Thou art required to go, not to like
the going.”
He was a lot of help. Grumbling under my breath, I went back outside
and hurled my thought in the general direction of Tolnedra.
“I need you!” I bellowed at Beldin.
“Don’t scream!” he shouted back.
“You made me spill a tankard of fine ale.”
“Quit thinking about your belly and get back here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to leave, and somebody’s got to look after Poledra.”
“I’m not a midwife, Belgarath. Have the twins do it. They’re the
experts at this sort of thing.”
“With sheep, you clot! Not with people! Get back here right now!”
“Where are you going?”
“To Mallorea. Cherek’s sons have found a way to get there that doesn’t
involve sprouting feathers. We’re going to Cthol Mishrak to take back
the Orb.”
“Are you crazy? If Torak catches you trying that, he’ll roast you over
a slow fire.”
“I don’t intend to let him catch me. Are you coming back or not?”
“All right. Don’t get excited; I’m coming.”
“I’ll be gone by the time you get here. No matter what she says or
tries to do, don’t let Poledra follow me. Keep her inside that tower.
Chain her to the wall if you have to, but keep her at home.”
“I’ll take care of it. Give my best to Torak.”
“Very funny, Beldin. Now get started.”
As you might have noticed, I wasn’t exactly in a good humor at that
point. I went back to where I’d left the King of Aloria and his sons
stamping their feet in the snow.
“All right,” I told them, “this is what we’re going to do. We’re going
to my tower, and you’re not going to say anything at all about this
insane notion of yours to my wife. I want her to believe that you’re
just passing through and stopped by to pay a courtesy call. I don’t
want her to know what we’re up to until we’re a long way away from
here.”
“I take it you’ve had a change of heart,” Cherek noted blandly.
“Don’t push your luck, Bear-shoulders,” I told him.
“I’ve been overruled, and I’m not very happy about it.”
I can’t be entirely sure how much Poledra really knew, and to this day
she won’t tell me. She greeted the Alorns politely and told them that
supper was already cooking. That was a fair indication that she knew
something. Cherek and his boys and I hadn’t been in sight of the tower
when we’d held our little get-together. I’ve often wondered just
exactly how far my wife’s “talents” go. The fact that she’d lived for
three hundred years–that I was willing to admit that I knew about–was
a fair indication that she wasn’t what you’d call ordinary. If she did
have what we refer to as “talent,” she never exercised it while I was
around. That was a part of our unspoken agreement, I suppose. I
didn’t ask certain questions, and she didn’t surprise me by doing
unusual things. Every marriage has its little secrets, I guess. If
married people knew everything about each other, life would be terribly
dull, I guess.
As I think I’ve indicated, Bear-shoulders was probably one of the
world’s worst liars. After he’d eaten enough roast pork to glut a
regiment, he leaned back in his chair expansively.
“We have business in Maragor,”
he told my wife, “and we stopped by to see if your husband would be
willing to show us the way.” Maragor? What possible interest could
Alorns have in Maragor?
“I see,” Poledra replied in a noncommittal sort of way. Now I was
stuck with Cherek’s lie, so I had to try to make the best of it.
“It’s not really very far, dear,” I told my wife.
“It shouldn’t take me more than a week or so to get them through the
mountains to Mar Amon.”
“Unless it snows again,” she added.
“It must be very important if you’re willing to go through those
mountains in the wintertime.”
“Oh, it is, Lady Poledra,” Dras Bull-neck assured her.
“Very, very important. It has to do with trade.”
Trade? I know it sounds impossible, but Dras was an even worse liar
than his father. The Marags have no seacoast. How could Alorns even
get to Maragor to trade with them? Not to mention the fact that Marags
had absolutely no interest whatsoever in commerce–and they were
cannibals besides! What a dunce Cherek’s oldest son was! I shuddered.
This idiot was the Crown Prince of Aloria!
“We’ve heard some rumors that the streams in Maragor are absolutely
awash with gold,” Riva added. At least Riva had a little good sense.
Poledra knew enough about Alorns to know that the word “gold” set their
hearts on fire.
“I’ll try to mediate for you, Bear-shoulders,” I said, pulling a long
face, “but I don’t think you’ll have very much luck with the Marags.
They aren’t interested enough in the gold even to bend over to pick it
up, and I don’t think you could offer them anything that’d make them
willing to take the trouble.”
“I think your trip will take longer than a week,” Poledra told me.
“Be sure to take warm clothing.”
“Of course,” I assured her.
“Perhaps I should go with you.”
“Absolutely not–not when you’re this close.”
“You worry too much about that.”
“No. You stay here. I’ve sent for Beldin. He’s coming back to stay
with you.”
“Not unless he bathes first, he won’t.”
“I’ll remind him.”
“When will you be leaving?”