reason.
“Try to be serious, Belgarath,” the voice in my head told me.
“You’re incapable of killing your brother. All you have to do is
neutralize him. Don’t get carried away. We’re going to need him again
on down the line.”
“You’re not going to tell me what to do, are you?”
“It isn’t permitted this time. You and Zedar are going to have to work
out the details for yourselves.”
And then the silly thing was gone.
I spent several minutes swearing. Then I loped back to where Zedar had
been warming himself by the cheerily burning Morind. As I ran along, I
began to formulate a plan. I could confront Zedar right now and get it
over with, but there were a lot of holes in that idea. Now that I knew
how things stood, there was no way he could take me by surprise, and
without the element of surprise, he was no match for me. I could take
him with one hand, but that would still leave the question of traps
hanging up in the air. I reasoned that my best course would be to
follow him for a few days to see if he was in contact with
others–Morindim or anybody else. I knew Zedar well enough to know
that he’d much prefer to let others do his dirty work for him.
Then I stopped and dropped to my haunches. Zedar was fully aware of
the fact that my favorite alternative form was that of a wolf. If he
saw a wolf–or even wolf tracks in the snow–he’d immediately know that
I was around. I was going to have to come up with something else.
Given the rules of this particular encounter, I think I can take credit
for the idea that came to me. My visitor had told me that he wasn’t
permitted to make suggestions, so I was entirely on my own.
I ran back over the last couple thousand years in my mind. Zedar had
spent almost the entire time in Mallorea, so there were a lot of things
that had happened in the Vale that he didn’t know about. He knew that
the she-wolf had stayed with me in my tower, but he didn’t know about
her abilities. If a wolf started following him, he might get
suspicious, but an owl? I didn’t think so–at least he wouldn’t unless
I let him see how inept I was at flying.
I remembered the owl very well, of course, so it wasn’t too hard to
form the image in my mind. It was only after I had merged myself into
the image that I realized my mistake. The image was female!
It didn’t really make any difference, of course, but it definitely
confused me right at first. How is it possible for women to keep their
heads on straight with all those additional internal organs–and all
those exotic substances floating around in their blood?
I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to pursue this line of
thought any further.
Considering my irrational nervousness about flying too high, it’s
fortunate that owls have no real reason to go very far up in the air.
An owl’s interested in what’s on the ground, not what’s up among the
stars. I ghosted low over the snow-covered earth back toward where I
had left Zedar.
Have you any idea of how well an owl can see in the dark? I was
absolutely amazed by how good my eyes were. My feathers, of course,
were very soft, and I found that I could fly in absolute silence. I
concentrated on that, and would you believe that my flying improved? I
smoothed out my frantic flapping and actually managed to achieve a
certain grace.
Etchquaw had burned down to a heap of charred, smoking rubble by now,
and Zedar was gone. His tracks, however, weren’t. They angled back up
the hillside toward the edge of the stunted evergreens at the
tree-line, and then they turned east. That made things even easier for
me. It’s a little hard to follow someone inconspicuously when you’re
flying out in the open. As an owl, though, I was able to drift
silently from tree to tree until I caught up with him. He seemed to be
heading due east, parallel to the course I’d set for Cherek and his
sons, and I began to entertain myself by zigzagging back and forth
across his path, now ahead of him, now off to one side, and now behind.
He wasn’t really hard to follow, since he’d conjured up a dim, greenish
light to see by–and to hold off the boogie men Did I ever tell you
that Zedar’s afraid of the dark? That adds another dimension to his
present situation, doesn’t it?
He was bundled to the ears in furs, and he was muttering to himself as
he floundered along through the snow. Zedar talks to himself a lot. He
always has.
I could not for the life of me figure out what he was up to. If he
thought that he could keep up with those long-legged Alorns, he was
sadly mistaken. I was sure that Cherek and his boys were at least ten
miles ahead of him by now. He was still angling slightly up hill, and
by the time the moon set again he’d reached the crest of the north
range. Then he stopped.
I drifted to a nearby tree and watched him–owlishly.
Sorry. I couldn’t resist that.
“Master!” His thought almost knocked me off the limb I was perched
on.
Lord, Zedar could be clumsy when he got excited.
“I hear thee, my son.” I recognized the voice. I was a bit astounded
to discover that Torak was almost as clumsy as Zedar was. He was a
God!
Was that the best he could do? Maybe that was the problem. Maybe
Torak’s divinity had made him so sure of himself that he got
careless.
“I have failed, Master.” Zedar’s silent voice was trembling. Torak
was not the sort to accept the failure of his underlings graciously.
“Failed?” There were all sorts of unpleasant implications in the
maimed God’s tone.
“I will not accept that, Zedar. Thou must not fail.”
“Our plan was flawed, Master. Belgarath is far more powerful than we
had anticipated.”
“How did this come to pass, Zedar? He is thy brother. How is it that
thou wert ignorant of the extent of his might?”
“He seemed me but a foolish man, Master. His mind is not quick nor his
perceptions acute. He is, moreover, a drunken lecher with scant
morality and little seriousness.”
You rarely hear anything good about yourself when you eavesdrop. Have
you ever noticed that?
“How did he manage to thwart thee, my son?” There was a steely
accusation in Torak’s voice.
“He hath in some manner unknown to me gained knowledge of the
techniques by which the magicians of the Morindim raise and control the
demons that are their slaves. I tell thee truly, Master, he doth far
surpass those savages.”
Naturally he didn’t know how I’d learned Morind magic. He’d been in
Mallorea when I’d gone to Morindland to take lessons.
“What did he do, Zedar?” Torak demanded.
“I must know the extent of his capabilities ere I consult with the
Necessity that guides us.”
It took me a moment to realize what I’d just heard. The other
Necessity–the opposite of the one that had taken up residence in my
head-was not in direct communication with Zedar. Torak stood between
them!
He was too jealous to permit anyone to have access to that spirit–or
whatever you want to call it. There was my edge! I’d be told if I
made a mistake; Zedar wouldn’t. I suddenly wanted to flap my wings and
crow like a rooster.
I listened very carefully while Zedar described my confrontation with
the Morindim and their demons. He exaggerated a bit. Zedar’s language
was always a bit excessive, but he had a very good reason for it this
time. His continued good health depended on his persuading Torak that
I was well-nigh invincible.
There was a long silence after Zedar had finished his extravagant
description of my Demon Lord.
“I will consider this and consult with the Necessity,” Torak said
finally.
“Dog the steps of thy brother whilst I devise some new means to delay
him.
We need not destroy him. The TIME of the EVENT is as important as the
EVENT itself.”
The implications there were clear. There weren’t any other traps out
there. They’d hung everything on the Morindim. I felt like grinning,
but that’s a little hard to do with a hooked beak. Now there was no
need to wait any longer; I knew what I had to know. I decided to put
Zedar out of action right here and now. I could fly over the top of
him, change back to my own form, and fall on him like a collapsing
roof.