with him, he’s in for a very nasty surprise,’ I declared.
‘He is our father, Polgara,’ beldaran pointed out.
‘That’s not my fault.’
‘We must obey him.’
‘Have you lost your mind?’
‘No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t.’ She looked around uncle
Beldin’s tower. ‘I suppose we’d better start packing.’
‘I’m not going anyplace,’ I told her.
‘That’s up to you, of course.’
I was more than a little startled. ‘You’d go off and leave me alone?’
I asked incredulously.
‘You’ve been leaving me alone ever since you found the Tree, Pol,’
she reminded me. ‘Are you going to pack or not?’
It was one of the few times that Beldaran openly asserted her authority
over me. She normally got what she wanted in more subtle ways.
She went to a cluttered area of uncle Beldin’s tower and began
rummaging around through the empty wooden boxes uncle had
stacked there.
‘I gather from the tone of things that you girls are having a little
disagreement,’ uncle said to me mildly.
‘It’s more like a permanent rupture,’ I retorted. ‘Beldaran’s going
to obey father, and I’m not.’
‘I wouldn’t make any wagers, Pol.’ Uncle Beldin had raised us,
after all, and he understood our little power structure.
‘This is right and proper, Pol,’ Beldaran said back over her
shoulder. ‘Respect, if not love, compels our obedience.’
,,Respect? I haven’t got any respect for that beer-soaked mendicant!’
‘You should have, Pol. Suit yourself, though. I’m going to obey
him. You can do as you like. You will visit me from time to time,
won’t you?’
How could I possibly answer that? Now perhaps you can see the
source of Beldaran’s power over me. She almost never lost her
temper, and she always spoke in a sweetly reasonable tone of voice,
but that was very deceptive. An ultimatum is an ultimatum, no
matter how it’s delivered.
I stared at her helplessly.
‘Don’t you think you should start packing, dear sister?’ she asked
sweetly.
I stormed out of uncle Beldin’s tower and went immediately to
my Tree to sulk. A few short answers persuaded even my birds to
leave me alone.
I spent that entire night in the Tree, hoping the unnatural
separation would bring Beldaran to her senses. My sister, however,
concealed a will of iron under that sweet, sunny exterior. She moved
into father’s tower with him, and after a day or so of almost
unbearable loneliness, I sulkily joined them.
This is not to say that I spent very much time in father’s cluttered
tower. I slept there and occasionally ate with my father and sister,
but it was summer. My Tree was all the home I really needed, and
my birds provided me with company.
As I look back, I see a peculiar dichotomy of motives behind that
summer sabbatical in the branches of the Tree. Firstly, of course, I
was trying to punish Beldaran for her betrayal of me. Actually,
though, I stayed in the Tree because I liked it there. I loved the
birds, and mother was with me almost continually as I scampered
around among the branches, frequently assuming forms other than
my own. I found that squirrels are very agile. Of course I could
always become a bird and simply fly up to the top-most branches,
but there’s a certain satisfaction in actually climbing.
It was about midsummer when I discovered the dangers involved
in taking the form of a rodent. Rodents of all sorts, from mice on
up the scale, are looked upon as a food source by just about every
other species in the world with the possible exception of goldfish.
One bright summer morning I was leaping from limb to limb among
the very top-most branches of the Tree when a passing hawk decided
to have me for breakfast.
‘Don’t do that,’I told him in a disgusted tone as he came swooping
in on me.
He flared off, his eyes startled. ‘Polgara?’ he said in amazement.
‘Is that really you?’
‘Of course it is, you clot.’
‘I’m very sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I didn’t recognize you.’
‘You should pay closer attention. All manner of creatures get
caught in baited snares when they think they’re about to get some
free food.’
‘Who would try to trap me?’
‘You wouldn’t want to find out.’
‘Would you like to fly with me?’ he offered.
‘How do you know I can fly?’
‘Can’t everybody?’ he asked, sounding a bit startled. He was
evidently a very young hawk.
To be absolutely honest, though, I enjoyed our flight. Each bird
flies a little differently, but the effortless art of soaring, lifted by the
unseen columns of warm air rising from the earth, gives one a sense
of unbelievable freedom.
All right, I like to fly. So what?
Father had decided to leave me to my own devices that summer,
probably because the sound of my voice grated on his nerves. Once,
however, he did come to my Tree – probably at Beldaran’s insistence
– to try to persuade me to come home. He, however, was the one
who got a strong dose of persuasion. I unleashed my birds on him,
and they drove him off.
I saw my father and my sister occasionally during the following
weeks. In actuality, I stopped by from time to time to see if I could
detect any signs of suffering in my sister. If Beldaran was suffering.
though, she managed to hide it quite well. Father sat off in one corner
during my visits. He seemed to be working on something quite small,
but I really wasn’t curious about whatever it might have been.
It was early autumn when I finally discovered what he’d been so
meticulously crafting. He came down to my Tree one morning, and
Beldaran was with him. ‘I’ve got something for you, Pol,’ he told
me.
‘I don’t want it,’ I told him from the safety of my perch.
‘Aren’t you being a little ridiculous, Pol?’ Beldaran suggested.
‘It’s a family trait,’ I replied.
Then father did something he’s very seldom done to me. One
moment I was comfortably resting on my perch about twenty feet
above the ground. At the next instant I was sprawled in the dirt at
his feet. The old rascal had translocated me! ‘That’s better,’ he said.
‘Now we can talk.’ He held out his hand, and there was a silver
medallion on a silver chain hanging from his fingers. ‘This is for
you,’ he told me.
Somewhat reluctantly I took it. ‘What am I supposed to do with
this?’ I asked him.
‘You’re supposed to wear it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the Master says so. If you want to argue with Him, go
right ahead. Just put it on, Pol, and stop all this foolishness. It’s time
for us all to grow up.’
I looked rather closely at the amulet and saw that it bore the image
of an owl. It occurred to me that this somehow very appropriate gift
had come from Aldur instead of father. At that point in my life
decorations of any kind seemed wildly inappropriate, but I
immediately saw a use for this one. It bore the image of an owl, my favorite
alternative form – and mother’s as well. Part of the difficulty of the
shape-change is getting the image right, and father was evidently a
very talented sculptor. The owl was so lifelike that it looked almost
as if it could fly. This particular ornament would be very useful.
When I put it on, something rather strange came over me. I’d
have sooner died than have admitted it, but I suddenly felt complete,
as if something had always been missing.
‘And now we are three,’ beldaran said vapidly.
‘Amazing,’ I said a bit acidly. ‘You do know how to count.’ My
unexpected reaction to father’s gift had put me off-balance, and I
felt the need to lash out at somebody – anybody.
‘Don’t be nasty,’ beldaran told me. ‘I know you’re more clever
than I am, Pol. You don’t have to hit me over the head with it. Now
why don’t you stop all this foolishness and come back home where
You belong?’
The guiding principle of my entire life at that point had been my
rather conceited belief that nobody told me what to do. Beldaran
disabused me of that notion right then and there. She could – and
occasionally did – give me orders. The implied threat that she would
withhold her love from me brought me to heel immediately.
The three of us walked on back to father’s tower. He seemed a little
startled by my sudden change of heart, and I believe that even to this
day he doesn’t fully understand the power Beldaran had over me.
Perhaps it was to cover his confusion that he offered me some
left-over breakfast. I discovered immediately that this most powerful
sorcerer in the world was woefully inadequate in the kitchen. ‘Did
you do this to perfectly acceptable food on purpose, father?’ I asked