David and Leigh Eddings – Belgarath the Sorcerer

his jaw made it impossible for him to come any closer to the correct

pronunciation.

“It is good that Grul know this. Grul keep names of all man-things he

eats in here.” He banged the side of his head with the heel of his

hand. “”Grat want to fight before Grul eat him?” he asked

hopefully.

I have had more congenial offers from time to time. I stood up.

“Go away, Grul,” I told him.

“I don’t have time to play with you.”

A hideous grin distorted his shaggy face.

“Take time,

“Grat. First we play. Then Grul eat.”

This was really going downhill. I looked at him rather closely. He

had huge arms that hung down to his knees. I definitely didn’t want

him wrapping those arms around me, so I carefully put my back against

the tree.

“You’re making a mistake, Grul,” I told him.

“Take the deer and go away. The deer won’t fight. I will.” It was

sheer bravado, of course. I wouldn’t have much chance against this

huge monster in a purely physical struggle, and he was so close to me

by now that any alternative would have been very chancy. What a silly

way this was for a man like me to end his career.

” “Grat too small to fight Grul.

“Grat not too smart if he not see this.

“Grat is brave, though. Grul will remember how brave

“Grat was, after Grul eat him.”

“You’re too kind,” I murmured to him.

“Come along then, Grul.

Since you’ve got your heart set on this, we may as well get going. I’ve

got better things to do today.” I was gambling. The fact that this

huge, shaggy monster could speak was an indication that he could also

think–minimally.

My bluster was designed to make him a little wary. I didn’t want him

simply to rush me. If I could make him hesitate, I might have a

chance.

My apparent willingness to fight him had the desired effect. Grul

wasn’t accustomed to having people shrug off his huge size, so he was

just a bit cautious as he approached. That was what I’d been hoping

for.

When he reached out with both huge hands to grasp me, I ducked under

them and stepped forward, smoothly pulling my knife out of my sleeve.

Then, with one quick swipe, I sliced him across the belly. I wasn’t

certain enough of his anatomy to try stabbing him in the heart. As big

as he was, his ribs were probably as thick as my wrist.

He stared at me in utter amazement. Then he looked down at the

entrails that came boiling out of the gaping wound that ran from hip to

hip across his lower belly.

“I think you dropped something there, Grul,” I suggested.

He clutched at his spilling entrails with both hands, a look of

consternation on his brutish face.” “Grat cut Grul’s belly,” he

said.

“Make Grul’s insides fall out.”

“Yes, I noticed that. Did you want to fight some more, Grul? I think

you could spend your time better by sewing yourself back together.

You’re not going to be able to move very fast with your guts tangled

around your feet.”

” “Grat is not nice,” he accused mournfully, sitting down and holding

his entrails in his lap.

For some reason, that struck me as enormously funny. I laughed for a

bit, but when two great tears began to run down his shaggy face, I felt

a little ashamed of myself. I held out my hand, willed a large, curved

needle into existence, and threaded it with deer sinew. I tossed it to

him.

“Here,”

I told him.

“Sew your belly back together, and remember this if we ever run across

each other again. Find something else to eat, Grul. I’m old and tough

and stringy, so I really wouldn’t taste too good–and I think you’ve

already discovered that I’m very expensive.”

The dawn had progressed far enough along to give me sufficient light to

travel, so I left him sitting by my fire trying to figure out how to

use the needle I had given him.

Oddly, the incident brightened my disposition enormously. I’d actually

pulled it off. What an amazing thing that was! I savored that last

comment of his. By now, half the world agreed with him.

“Grat is definitely not nice.

I reached the western edge of the Vale two days later. It was early

summer, one of the loveliest times of year. The spring rains have

passed, and the dusty heat that comes later hasn’t yet arrived. Even

though our Master was gone, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Vale more

beautiful.

The grass was bright green, and many of the fruit trees that grew wild

there were in bloom. The berries were out, although they weren’t

really ripe yet. I rather like the tart taste of half-ripe berries

anyway. The sky was very blue, and the puffy white clouds seemed

almost to dance aloft.

The roiling grey clouds and stiff winds of early spring are dramatic,

but early summer is lush and warm and filled with the scent of urgent

growth.

I was home, and I don’t know that I’ve ever been any happier.

I was in a peculiar sort of mood. I was eager to get back to Poledra,

but for some reason I was enjoying the sense of anticipation. I

discarded my traveling form and almost sauntered across the gentle

hills and valleys of the Vale. I knew that Poledra would sense my

approach, and, as she always did, she’d probably be fixing supper. I

didn’t want to rush her.

It was just evening when I reached my tower, and I was a little

surprised not to see lights in the windows. I went around to the far

side, opened the door and went on in.

“Poledra,” I called up the stairs to her.

Strangely, she didn’t answer.

I went on up the stairs.

It was dark in my tower. Poledra’s curtains may not have kept out the

breeze, but they definitely kept out the light. I twirled a tongue of

flame off my index finger and lit a candle.

There wasn’t anybody there, and the place had that dusty, unused look.

What was going on here?

Then I saw a square of parchment in the precise center of my worktable,

and I recognized Beldin’s crabbed handwriting immediately.

“Come to my tower.” That was all it said.

I raised my candle and saw that the cradles were gone. Evidently

Beldin had transferred my wife and offspring to his tower. That was

odd.

poledra had a very strong attachment to this tower. Why would Beldin

have moved her? As I remembered, she didn’t particularly like his

tower.

It was a little too fanciful for her taste. Puzzled, I went back

downstairs.

It was only about a five minute-walk to Beldin’s tower, and I didn’t

really hurry. But my sense of anticipation was fading toward

puzzlement.

“Beldin!” I shouted up to him.

“It’s me. Open your door.”

There was quite a long pause, and then the rock that formed his door

slid open.

I started on up the stairs. Now I did hurry.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I looked around. Beltira,

Belkira, and Beldin were there, but Poledra wasn’t.

“Where’s my wife?” I asked.

“Don’t you want to meet your daughters?” Beltira asked me.

“Daughters? More than one?”

“That’s why we made two cradles, brother,” Belkira said.

“You’re the father of twins.”

Beldin reached into one of the cradles and gently lifted out a baby.

“This is Polgara,” he introduced her.

“She’s your eldest.” He handed me the blanket-wrapped baby. I turned

back the corner of the blanket and looked into Pol’s eyes for the very

first time. Pol and I didn’t get off to a very good start. Those of

you who know her know that my daughter’s eyes change color, depending

on her mood. They were steel grey when I first looked into them and as

hard as agates. I got the distinct impression that she didn’t care

much for me. Her hair was very dark, and she seemed not to have the

characteristic chubbiness babies are supposed to have. Her face was

expressionless, but those steely eyes of hers spoke volumes.

Then I did something that had been a custom back in the village of

Gara.

Pol was my firstborn, whether she liked me or not, so I laid my hand on

her head in benediction.

I felt a sudden jolt in that hand, and I jerked it back with a startled

oath. It’s a bit unfortunate that the first word Polgara heard coming

from my mouth was a curse. I stared at this grim-faced baby girl. A

single lock at her brow had turned snowy white at my touch.

“What a wonder!” Beltira gasped.

“Not really,” Beldin disagreed.

“She’s his firstborn, and he just marked her. Unless I miss my guess,

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