POLGARA THE SORCERESS BY DAVID EDDINGS

first who ever showed any interest in me. I rather liked him, actually.

Of course he did propose marriage to me, and a girl always has a

soft spot in her heart for the young man who asks her for the first

time. Anrak was an Alorn, with all that implies. He was big, burly,

and bearded, and there was good-humored simplicity about him

that I rather liked. I didn’t like the way he always reeked of beer,

however.

I was busy sulking in my Tree when he arrived, so we didn’t

even have time to get acquainted before he proposed. He came

swaggering down the Vale one beautiful morning in early spring.

My birds alerted me to his approach, so he didn’t really surprise

me when he came in under the branches of my Tree.

‘Hello, up there,’ he called to me.

I looked down from my perch at him. ‘What do you want?’ It

wasn’t really a very gracious greeting.

‘I’m Anrak, Riva’s cousin – and I came here to escort your sister

to the Isle so Riva can marry her.’

That immediately put him in the camp of the enemy. ‘Go away,’

I told him bluntly.

‘There’s something I need to ask you first.’

‘What?’

‘Well, like I said, I’m Riva’s cousin, and he and I usually do

things together. We got drunk together for the first time, and

visited a brothel together for the first time, and even both killed

our first man in the same battle, so as you can see, we’re fairly

close.’

‘So?

‘Well, Riva’s going to marry your sister, and I thought it might

be sort of nice if I got married, too. What do you say?’

‘Are you proposing marriage to me?’

‘I thought I said that. This is the first time I’ve ever proposed to

anybody, so I probably didn’t do a very good job. What do you

think?’

‘I think you’re insane. We don’t even know each other.’

‘There’ll be plenty of time for us to get to know each other after

the ceremony. Well, yes or no?’

You couldn’t fault Anrak’s directness. Here was a man who got

right down to the point. I laughed at him, and he looked just a bit

injured by that. ‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded in a hurt tone of

voice.

‘You are. Do you actually think I’d marry a complete stranger?

One who looks like a rat hiding in a clump of bushes?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You’ve got hair growing all over your face.’

‘That’s my beard. All Alorns wear beards.’

‘Could that possibly be because Alorns haven’t invented the razor

yet? Tell me, Anrak, have your people come up with the idea of the

wheel yet? Have you discovered fire, by any chance?’

‘You don’t have to be insulting. Just say yes or no.’

‘All right. No! Was there any part of that you didn’t understand?’

Then I warmed to my subject. ‘The whole notion is absurd,’ I told

him. ‘I don’t know you, and I don’t like you. I don’t know your

cousin, and I don’t like him either. As a matter of fact, I don’t like

your entire stinking race. All the misery in my life’s been caused

by Alorns. Did you really think I’d actually marry one? You’d better

get away from me, Anrak, because if,you don’t, I’ll turn you into a

toad.’

‘You don’t have to get nasty. You’re no prize yourself, you know.’

I won’t repeat what I said to him then. this document might just

fall into the hands of children. I spoke at some length about his

parents, his extended family, his race, his ancestors and probable

descendants. I drew rather heavily on uncle Beldin’s vocabulary in

the process, and Anrak frequently looked startled at the extent of

my command of the more colorful side of language.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘if that’s the way you feel about it, there’s not

much point in our continuing this conversation, is there?’ And then

he rather huffily turned and strode back up the Vale, muttering to

himself.

Poor Anrak. I was feeling a towering resentment over the fact

that some unknown alorn was going to take my sister away from

me, and so he had the privilege of receiving the full weight of my

displeasure. Moreover, mother’d strongly advised me to steer clear

of any lasting entanglements at this stage of my life. Adolescent

girls have glandular problems that sometimes lead them to make

serious mistakes.

Why don’t we just let it go at that?

I had absolutely no intention of going to the Isle of the Winds to

witness this obscene ceremony. If beldaran wanted to marry this

Alorn butcher, she was going to have to do it without my blessing

– or my presence.

When they were ready to leave, however, my sister came down

to my Tree and ‘persuaded’ me to change my mind. Despite that

sweet exterior that deceived everyone else, my sister Beldaran could

be absolutely ruthless when she wanted something. She knew me

better than anyone else in the world did – or could – so she knew

exactly where all my soft spots were. To begin with, she spoke to

me exclusively in’twin’, a language I’d almost forgotten. There were

subtleties in ‘twin’ – mostly of Beldaran’s devising – that no linguist,

even the most gifted, could ever unravel, and most of them stressed

her dominant position. Beldaran was accustomed to giving me

orders, and I was accustomed to obeying. Her ‘persuasion’ in this

situation was, to put it honestly, brutal. She reminded me of every

time in our lives when we’d been particularly close, and she cast

those reminders in a past tense peculiar to our private tongue that

would more or less translate into ‘never again’, or ‘over and done

with’. She had me in tears within five minutes and in utter anguish

within ten. ‘Stop!’ I cried out finally, unable to bear the implicit

threat of a permanent severing of all contact any longer.

‘You’ll come with me then?’ she asked, reverting to ordinary

speech.

‘Yes! Yes! Yes! But please stop!’

‘I’m so happy about your decision, Pol,’ she said, embracing me

warmly. Then she actually apologized for what she’d just done to

me. Why not? She’d just won, so she could afford to be graceful

about the whole thing.

I was beaten, and I knew it. I wasn’t even particularly surprised

to discover when Beldaran and I returned to father’s tower that

she’d already packed for me. She’d known all along just how things

would turn out.

We set out the next morning. It took us several weeks to reach

Muros, since we traveled on foot.

Beldaran and I were both uneasy in Muros, since we’ never

really been around that many people before. Although I’ve changed

MY position a great deal since then, at first I found Sendars to be a

noisy people, and they seemed to me to have a positive obsession

with buying and selling that was almost laughable.

Anrak left us at Muros to go on ahead to advise Riva that we

were coming. We hired a carriage, and the four of us, father, uncle

Beldin, Beldaran and I rode the rest of the way to Camaar. Frankly,

I’d have rather walked. The stubby ponies drawing the carriage

didn’t really move very fast, and the wheels of the carriage seemed

to find every single rock and rut in the road. Riding in carriages

didn’t really become pleasant until some clever fellow came up with

a way to install springs in them.

Camaar was even more crowded with people than Muros had

been. We took some rooms in a Sendarian inn and settled down to

wait for Riva’s arrival. I found it rather disconcerting to see buildings

every time I looked out the window. Sendars appeared to have a

kind of revulsion to open spaces. They always seem to want to

‘civilize’ everything.

The innkeeper’s wife, a plump, motherly little woman, seemed

bent on ‘civilizing’ me as well. She kept offering me the use of the

bath-house, for one thing. She rather delicately suggested that I

didn’t smell very sweet.

I shrugged off her suggestions. ‘It’s a waste of time,’ I told her.

‘I’ll only get dirty again. The next time it rains, I’ll go outside. That

should take the smell and the worst of the dirt off me.’

She also offered me a comb and a brush – which I also refused.

I wasn’t going to let the alorn who’d stolen my sister away from

me get some idea that I was taking any pains to make myself

presentable for his sake.

The nosey innkeeper’s wife then went so far as to suggest a visit

to a dressmaker. I wasn’t particularly impressed by the fact that

we’d shortly be entertaining a king, but she was.

‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’ I asked her pugnaciously.

‘Different occasions require different clothing, dear,’ she replied.

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