Poledra nodded. “It should keep him busy,” she said.
Geran willingly gave up the Orb for the new toy. The Orb, however, muttered complaints in Garion’s ear for die next several hours.
They reached the cottage a day or so later. Poledra looked rather critically down from the hUltop above it. “You’ve made some changes, I see,” she said to her daughter.
“Do you mind, mother?” Aunt Pol asked.
“Of course not, Polgara. A house should reflect the character of its owner.”
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“I’m sure there are a million things to do,” Durnik said. “Those fences really need attention. We’ll have hundreds of Algarcows in the dooryard if I don’t mend them.”
“And I’m sure the cottage needs a thorough cleaning,” his wife added.
They rode down the hill, dismounted, and went inside. “Impossible,” Polgara exclaimed, looking about in dismay at the negligibly thin film of dust lying over everything. “We’ll need some brooms, Durnik,” she said.
“Of course, dear,” he agreed.
Belgarath was rummaging through the pantry.
“None of that now, father,” Polgara told him crisply. “I want you and Uncle Beldin and Garion to go out there and clear the weeds out of my kitchen garden.”
‘ ‘What?” he demanded incredulously.
“I’ll want to plant tomorrow,” she told him. “Open the ground for me, father.”
Garion, Beldin, and Belgarath rather disconsolately went out to the lean-to where Durnik kept his tools.
Garion looked with a sense of defeat at Aunt Pol’s kitchen garden, which seemed quite large enough to provide food for a small army.
Beldin gave the ground a iew desultory chops with his hoe. “This is ridiculous!” he burst out. He threw down his hoe and pointed one finger at the ground. As he moved the finger, a neat furrow of freshly plowed earth moved resolutely across the garden.
“Aunt Pol will be angry,” Garion warned the hunchback.
“Not if she doesn’t catch us,” Beldin growled, looking at the cottage where Polgara, Poledra, and the Rivan Queen were busy with brooms and dustcloths. “Your turn, Belgarath,” he said. “Try to keep the furrows straight.”
“Let’s see if we can coax some ale from Pol before we rake it,” Beldin suggested when they had finished. “This is hot work—even doing it this way.”
As it happened, Durnik had also returned to the house briefly to refresh himself before returning to the fence line. The ladies were busily wielding their brooms, stirring up the dust, which, Garion observed, stubbornly settled back on places already swept. Dust was like that sometimes.
“Where’s Geran?” Ce’Nedra suddenly exclaimed, dropping her broom and looking around in dismay.
Polgara’s eyes went distant. “Oh, dear,” she sighed. “Dur-
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nik,” she said quite calmly, “go fish him out of the creek, please.”
“What?” Ce’Nedra almost screamed as Dumik, moving rapidly, went outside.
“He’s all right, Ce’Nedra,” Polgara assured her. “He just fell into the creek, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Ce’Nedra’s voice went up another octave. –
“It’s a common pastime for Hide boys,” Polgara told her. “Garion did it, Eriond did it, and now Geran’s doing it. Don’t ,worry. He swims rather well, actually.”
“How did he learn to swim?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. Maybe little boys are bom with the ability—some of them, anyway. Garion was the only one who tried drowning.”
“I was starting to get the hang of swimming, Aunt Pol,” he objected, “before I came up under that log and hit my head.” |j Ce’Nedra stared at him in horror, and then she quite suddenly /’broke down and began to cry.
Dumik was carrying Geran by the back of his tunic when he returned. The little boy was dripping wet, but seemed quite happy, nonetheless. “He’s really very muddy, Pol,” the smith noted. “Eriond used to get wet, but I don’t think he ever got this muddy.”
“Take him outside, Ce’Nedra,” Polgara instructed. “He’s dripping mud on our clean floor. Garion, there’s a washtub in the lean-to. Put it in the dooryard and fill it.” She smiled at \ Geran’s mother. “It’s about time for him to have a bath anyway. For some reason, little boys always seem to need bathing. Gar-; ion used to get dirty even while he was asleep.” \ On one perfect evening, Garion joined Belgarath just outside j the cottage door. “You seem a bit pensive, Grandfather. What’s r the problem?”
“IVe been thinking about living arrangements. Poledra’s going to be moving back into my tower with me.”
“So?”
“We’re probably going to become involved in a decade or so of cleaning—and hanging window curtains. How can a man took out at the world with window curtains in his way?”
“Maybe she won’t make such an issue of it. Back on Perivor, Ac said that wolves aren’t as compulsively tidy as birds are.”
“She lied, Garion. Believe me, she lied.” TVra guests rode up a few days later. Despite the fact that it was almost summer now, Yarblek still wore his shabby felt over-
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coat, his shaggy fur hat, and a disconsolate expression. Vella, the overwhelmingly sensual Nadrak dancer, wore her usual tight-fitting black leather.
“What are you up to, Yarblek?” Belgarath asked Silk’s partner.
“This wasn’t my idea, Belgarath. Vella insisted.”
“All right,” Vella said in a commanding voice, “I haven’t got all day. Let’s get on with this. Get everybody oat of the house. I want witnesses to this.”
“What exactly are we witnessing, Vella?” Ce’Nedra asked the dark-haired girl.
“Yarblek’s going to sell me.”
“Vella!” Ce’Nedra exclaimed, outraged. “That’s revolting’- ”
“Oh, bother that,” Vella snapped. Bother was not precisely
the word Vella used. She looked around. “Are we all here?”
“That’s everybody,” Belgarath told her.
“Good.” She slid down from her saddle and sat cross-legged onthegrass. “Let’s get down to business. You—Beldin, or Feld-egast, or whatever you want to call yourself—one time back in Mallorea, you said you wanted to buy me. Were you serious?”
Beldin blinked. “Well—” he floundered. “I suppose I was, sort of.”
“I want a yes or a no, Beldin,” she said crisply.
“All right then, yes. You’re not a bad-looking wench, and you curse and swear rather prettily.”
“Good. What are you prepared to offer for me?”
Beldin choked, his face going suddenly red.
“Don’t dawdle, Beldin,” she told him. “We haven’t got all day for this. Make Yarblek an offer.”
‘*Are you serious?” Yarblek exclaimed.
“IVe never been more serious in my life. How much are you willing to pay for me, Beldin?”
“Vella,” Yarblek protested, “this is absolute nonsense.”
“Shut up, Yarblek. Well, Beldin? How much?”
“Everything I own,” he replied, his eyes filled with a kind of wonder.
“That’s a little unspecific. Give me a number. We can’t haggle without a number,”
Beldin scratched at his matted beard. “Belgarath,” he said, ‘ ‘have you still got that diamond you found in Maragor that time before the Tolnedran invasion?”
“I think so. It’s somewhere in my tower, I believe.”
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“So’s half the clutter in the world.”
“It’s in the bookcase on the south wall,” Poledra supplied, “‘behind that rat-chewed copy of the Darine Codex.”
“Really?” Belgarath said. “How did you know about that?”
“Remember what Cyradis called me at Rheon?”
“The woman who watches?”
“Does that answer your question?”
“Would you lend it to me?” Beldin asked his brother. “I suppose ‘give’ would be a better word. I doubt that I’ll ever be in a position to repay you.”
“Certainly, Beldin,” Belgarath said. “I wasn’t really using it anyway.”
“Could you get it for me?”
Belgarath nodded, and then he concentrated, holding out his band.
The diamond that suddenly appeared in his hand was almost like a chunk of ice, except that it had a definite pinkish cast to it.
It was also somewhat larger than an apple.
“Torak’s teeth and toenails!” Yarblek exclaimed.
“An” would th’ two of ye, consumed with greed though ye may be, consider this triflin’ thing a suitable price fer this be-guilin’ wench yer both so set on sellin’?” Beldin said, lapsing into Feldegast’s brogue and pointing at the stone resting on Belgarath *s hand.
“That’s worth a hundred times more than has ever been paid for any woman since time began,” Yarblek said in an awed tone.
“Then that ought to be about the right price,” Velta said triumphantly. “Yarblek, when you get back to Gar og Nadrak, I want you to spread that word around. I want every woman in the kingdom for the next hundred years to cry herself to sleep every night just thinking about the price I brought.”
“You’re a cruel woman, Vella.” Yarblek grinned.
“It’s a question of pride,” she said, tossing her blue-black hair. “There, now, that didn’t take too long at all, did it?” She rose to her feet and dusted off her hands. “Yarblek,” she said, “have you got my ownership papers?”
“Yes.”
“Get them and sign me over to my new owner.”