“Theydo need their wits about them,” Belgarath agreed. “That big ship of his is not exactly what you’d call responsive.”
Barak gave him a hurt look.
Garion sent for ale, removed his crown and state robes with obvious relief, and invited them all to sit down.
Once Barak had quenched his most immediate thirst, his expression became serious. He looked at Garion. “Anheg sent me to warn you that we’re starting to get reports about the Bear-cult again.”
“I thought they were all killed at Thull Mardu,” Durnik said.
“Grodeg’s underlings were,” Barak told him. “Unfortunately, Grodeg wasn’t the whole cult.”
“I don’t exactly follow you,” Durnik said.
“It gets a little complicated. You see, the Bear-cult has always been there, really. It’s a fundamental part of the religious life of the more remote parts of Cherek, Drasnia, and Algaria. Every so often, though, somebody with more ambition than good sense -like Grodeg- gains control and tries to establish the cult in the cities. The cities are where the power is, and somebody like Grodeg automatically tries to use the cult to take them over. The problem is that the Bear-cult doesn’t work in the cities.”
Durnik’s frown became even more confused.
“People who live in cities are always coming in contact with new people and new ideas,” Barak explained. “Out in the countryside, though, they can go for generations without ever encountering a single new thought. The Bear-cult doesn’t believe in new thoughts, so it’s the natural sort of thing to attract country people.”
“New ideas aren’talways good ones,” Durnik said stiffly, his own rural background painfully obvious.
“Granted,” Barak agreed, “but old ones aren’t necessarily good either, and the Bear-cult’s been working on the same idea for several thousand years now. About the last thing Belar said to the Alorns before the Gods departed was that they should lead the Kingdoms of the West against the people of Torak. It’s that word ‘lead’ that’s caused all the problems. It can mean many things, unfortunately. Bear-cultists have always taken it to mean that their very first step in obeying Belar’s instructions should be a campaign to force the other Western Kingdoms to submit to Alorn domination. A good Bear-cultist isn’t thinking about fighting Angaraks, because all of his attention is fixed on subduing Sendaria, Arendia, Tolnedra, Nyissa, and Maragor.”
“Maragor doesn’t even exist any more,” Durnik objected.
“That news hasn’t reached the cult yet,” Barak said drily. “After all, it’s only been about three thousand years now. Anyway, that’s the rather tired idea behind the Bear-cult. Their first goal is to reunite Aloria; their next is to overrun and subjugate all of the Western Kingdoms; and only then will they start to give some thought to attacking Murgos and Malloreans.”
“Theyare just a bit backward, aren’t they?” Durnik observed.
“Some of them haven’t even discovered fire yet.” Barak snorted.
“I don’t really see why Anheg is so concerned, Barak,” Belgarath said. “The Bear-cult doesn’t really cause any problems out there in the countryside. They jump around bonfires on midsummer’s eve and put on bearskins and shuffle around in single file in the dead of winter and recite long prayers in smoky caves, until they get so dizzy that they can’t stand up. Where’s the danger in that?”
“I’m getting to that,” Barak said, pulling at his beard. “Always before, the rural Bear-cult was just a reservoir of undirected stupidity and superstition. But in the last year or so, something new has been going on.”
“Oh?” Belgarath looked at him curiously.
“There’s a new leader of the cult -we don’t even know who he is. In the past, Bear-cultists from one village didn’t even trust the ones from another, so they were never organized enough to be any problem. This new leader of theirs has changed all of that. For the first time in history, rural Bear-cultists are all taking orders from one man.”
Belgarath frowned. “Thatis serious,” he admitted.
“This is very interesting, Barak,” Garion said, looking a bit perplexed, “but why did King Anheg send you all the way here to warnme? From what I’ve been told, the Bear-cult has never been able to get a foothold here on the Isle of the Winds.”
” Anheg wanted me to warn you to take a few precautions, since this new cult’s antagonism is directed primarily atyou.”
“Me? What for?”
“You married a Tolnedran,” Barak told him. “To a Bear-cultist a Tolnedran is worse than a Murgo.”
“That’s a novel position,” Ce’Nedra said with a toss of her curls.
“That’s the way those people think,” Barak told her. “Most of those blockheads don’t even know what an Angarakis. They’ve all seen Tolnedrans though -usually merchants who deal quite sharply. For a thousand years, they’ve been waiting for a king to come and pick up Riva’s sword and lead them on a holy war to crush all the Kingdoms of the West into subjugation, and when hedoes finally show up, the very first thing he does is marry an Imperial Tolnedran Princess. The way they look at it, the next Rivan King is going to be a mongrel. They hate you like poison, my little sweetheart.”
“What an absolute absurdity!” she exclaimed.
“Of course it is,” the big Cherek agreed. “But absurdity has always been a characteristic of the mind dominated by religion. We’d all be a lot better off if Belar had just kept his mouth shut.
Belgarath laughed suddenly.
“What’s so funny?” Barak asked.
“Asking Belar to keep his mouth shut would probably have been the most futile thing any human being could even contemplate,” the old sorcerer said, still laughing. “I remember one time when he talked for a week and a half straight without stopping.”
“What was he saying?” Garion asked curiously.
“He was explaining to the early Alorns why it wasn’t a good idea to start a trek into the far north at the beginning of winter. Sometimes in those days you really had to talk to an Alorn to get an idea through to him.”
“That hasn’t really changed all that much,” Ce’Nedra said with an arch look at her husband. Then she laughed and fondly touched his hand.
The next morning dawned clear and sunny, and Errand, as he usually did, went to the window as soon as he awoke to see what the day promised. He looked out over the city of Riva and saw the bright morning sun standing over the Sea of the Winds and smiled. There was not a hint of cloud.
Today would be fine. He dressed himself in the tunic and hose which Polgara had laid out for him and then went to join his family. Durnik and Polgara sat in two comfortable, leather-upholstered chairs, one on each side of the fire, talking together quietly and sipping tea. As he always did, Errand went to Polgara, put his arms about her neck and kissed her.
“You slept late,” she said, brushing his tousled hair back from his eyes.
“I was a little tired,” he replied. “I didn’t get much sleep the night before last.”
“So I heard.” Almost absently, she pulled him up into her lap and held him nestled against the soft velvet of her blue robe.
“He’s growing a bit big for your lap,” Durnik noted, smiling fondly at the two of them.
“I know,” Polgara answered. “That’s why I hold him as often as I can. Very soon he’ll outgrow laps and cuddling, so I need to store up as much as I can now. It’s all very well for them to grow up, but I miss the charm of having a small one about.”
There was a brief tap on the door, and Belgarath entered.
“Well, good morning, father”‘ Polgara greeted him.
“Pol.” He nodded briefly. “Durnik.”
“Did you manage to get Barak put to bed last night?” Durnik asked with a grin.
“We poured him in about midnight. Brand’s sons helped us with him. He seems to be getting heavier as he puts on the years.”
“You’re looking surprisingly well,” Polgara observed, “considering the fact that you spent the evening at Garion’s ale barrel.”
“I didn’t drink all that much,” he told her, coming to the fire to warm his hands.
She looked at him with one raised eyebrow.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he said. Then he looked directly at her. “Is everything straightened out between Garion and Ce’Nedra?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Let’s be sure. I don’t want things here to fly apart again. I’m going to have to get back to the Vale, but if you think you ought to stay and keep an eye on those two, I can go on ahead.” His voice was serious, even decisive.
Errand looked at the old man, noting once again that Belgarath seemed sometimes to be two different people. When there was nothing of any urgency going on, he reveled in his leisure, amusing himself with drink, deception, and petty theft. When a serious problem arose, however, he could set all that aside and devote almost unlimited concentration and energy to solving it.