blinding to them – if the sun ever comes out again.’
‘I didn’t exactly follow that, Belgarath.’
‘There was a change in the weather after Torak’s Eclipse,’ father
explained. ‘It’s been raining more or less continually for the past
fifteen or so years.’
‘Did we anticipate that?’
‘We probably should have. Our prophecies mention the rain, but
we thought they were talking about some passing rain squall, not
a semi-permanent climate change. Sometimes I get a little cross
about being tampered with. Everything’s written down in the Darine
and the Mrin, but I’m not permitted to understand what I’m reading
until that overly-clever Necessity’s jolly-well ready to have me
understand it. I honestly believe he thinks he’s funny.’
Gorim smiled faintly. ‘Now, there’s a concept we might want to
investigate,’ he said.
‘I’d rather not,’ father said in a grumpy voice. ‘I don’t want to
come to grips with the idea that the Universe is some vast, obscure
joke.’ He shook his head. ‘What happened in Drasnia’s a fair
indication that we’re looking at a very messy war, Gorim. Your people
are devout and the violence that’s staring us in the face isn’t the
kind of thing they’re equipped to deal with. The alorns, Tolnedrans,
and Arends are built for this kind of thing, so why don’t we just
let them deal with it? We’ll keep you advised, and when Torak
starts moving his army across Ulgoland, we’ll give you enough
warning so that you can seal up the mouths of your caves and leave
the Angaraks to the Algroths, Hrulgin, and Eldrakyn.’
‘I shall consult with Holy UL,’ Gorim said. ‘The circumstances
might prompt him to set aside his distaste for violence.’
‘That’s entirely up to him, Gorim,’ father said. ‘I’ve done many
foolish things in my life, but trying to tell UL what to do isn’t going
to be one of them.’
Our conversation became general after that, and the Gorim’s
servants brought us supper. Ulgo cooking is slightly bland, but I kept
my opinion about that to myself. I wasn’t entirely certain whether
or not the Ulgos might have religious objections to herbs and
spices.
After we’d eaten, father and the Gorim talked for a while, and
then the Old Wolf and I were provided with rooms where we could
sleep. I was just drifting off when mother’s voice came to me.
‘Welcome to Ulgo, Pol,’ she said.
‘You sound like a resident, mother.’
‘Naturally,’ she said. ‘Where else did you think I was?’
‘I didn’t really think about it. I suppose I thought you were
everywhere.’
‘These are caves, Pol, and a cave’s very much like a den, wouldn’t you
say?’
‘I hadn’t thought of that, I guess.’
‘Obviously. Holy UL wants to speak with us. Come along. I’ll guide
you.
I rose and dressed, and then I quietly left the Gorim’s house.
Mother’s voice led me through the labyrinthine maze of galleries
out to the edge of that underground city. The passageways we
entered there showed fewer and fewer signs of human modification,
and after I’d squeezed my way through a narrow embrasure. the
rubble littering the uneven floor was a fair indication that we were
in unexplored territory.
Then, just as I rounded a sharp turn, the sense of mother’s
presence in my mind was suddenly gone – or more accurately, it had
moved. Mother was just ahead of me, and now she was really there.
The Ulgos light their subterranean world by mixing two chemicals
that then give off a phosphorescent kind of glow. In this as yet
unexplored gallery, the walls themselves glowed. That may have
also been some chemical reaction, but I rather doubt it.
Tawny-haired and golden-eyed, mother sat quite calmly on a
simple three-legged stool in a neat little room that contained a bed,
a table and a small cooking stove. The walls were unfinished and
mother’s cooking utensils and dishes were neatly stacked on a ledge
behind the stove. To put it succinctly, this was not a room; it was
a den.
Mother rose to her feet and held out her arms to me, and I literally
flew to embrace her. We clung to each other for quite some time,
and I’ll admit that I cried. Then she gently sat me at her small, rough
table and made tea for us.
,you said that UL wanted to speak with us, mother,’ I reminded
her as we sat facing each other with our hands intertwined on the
table-top.
‘He’s giving us a bit of time to get used to each other, Pol. UL
has an exquisite sense of propriety, so he’s giving us this private
time. How’s he been?’ Mother almost never used father’s name when
speaking of him.
‘Father never changes, mother. You should know that.’
‘We can always hope.’ Then she laughed, and mother very seldom
laughs. ‘And Beldin and the twins?’
‘They’re still the same too. We’re a very strange family, you know.
We exist outside of time, so we don’t change just because a few
thousand years have passed.’
‘You’re going to change just a little rather soon.’
‘Oh?’
‘You and I are going to become very close.’
‘You’re being cryptic, mother.’
‘It’s the way of wolves to be cryptic.’
Then one of the walls of mother’s den began to glow with a soft,
filmy light, and the Father of the Gods stepped out of the solid rock.
I’d see him before, of course – when Beldaran had died and he’d
come for her – but I’d been so distraught that I’d never been positive
that he’d really been there. His presence filled me with awe. He
looked very much like our Master, old and white bearded, but he
seemed more robust – even muscular.
‘Ah,’ mother said, rising calmly, ‘there you are. Would you like
a cup of tea?’ Her almost domestic greeting startled me.
‘An it please thee, Poledra,’ the God responded, taking a seat at
the table.
‘You remember Polgara, of course,’ mother said to him.
The ancient God inclined his head slightly to me, and then he
fixed me with a penetrating gaze that probably saw everything.
‘Thou art to be commended, Poledra,’ he said to mother. ‘Thou has
Wrought a masterpiece.’
‘She did turn out rather well, didn’t she?’ mother replied modestly.
She is equal – and more than equal – to her task.’ Then he looked
at me again. ‘Well met, Polgara,’ he greeted me. ‘How fares thine
“ancient father?’
‘He is well, most Holy,’ I replied. ‘The matter currently at hand
doesn’t give him much leisure to pursue his bad habits, so he isn’t
destroying his health the way he usually does.’
He actually laughed at that, and I began to feel a bit more at ease.
‘I have summoned thee for a reason, Polgara,’ he said then. ‘Much
as I delight in exchanging pleasantries with thee, something Will
soon come to pass of which thou must be aware, lest the sudden
surprise unseat thy reason.’
‘That sounds ominous, most Holy.’
‘Methinks it will not be so, Polgara. Thou hast ever been close to
thy mother, but in this particular time thou wilt be even closer than
thou and thy sister were whilst ye were both still enwombed.’
I gave him a puzzled look.
‘It hath long been the practice of the members of thy family to
assume forms other than thine own.’
‘Yes,’ I admitted.
‘Necessity now requires that thou and thy mother assume the
same form.’
‘We’ve done that already, most Holy. We’ve spent many happy
hours flying together as owls.’
‘Thou has misperceived my meaning, Polgara. When I spake of
“the same form”, I was not speaking of two separate owls. There
will be but one owl, and it shall encompass both of ye within its
substance. In short, at the proper moment shall ye both in
combination create the image of but a single owl, and all simultaneous
shall ye both cause your separate beings to flow into that image.’
‘Is that possible?’ I exclaimed.
‘My son Aldur asked that self-same question,’ he said. ‘Thy
thought is much as his.’
‘To what end, most Holy?’ I asked, puzzled. ‘What’s the purpose
of this experiment?’
‘In this merging shalt thou and thy mother become so totally
entwined and closed in that no hint of thy presence – either to the
eye or to the mind – shall escape the enclosed sphere of your
combined being. Thus, no man or God shall be aware of the fact that
what he says or does is being heard and observed.’
‘Truly? What an amazing thing! And who is to be honored by
having mother and me spy on him?’
‘Who else, Polgara? Thou and thy mother will seek out the rusting
habitation of my son, Torak, which even now doth roll andrattle
across the plains of Algaria. My son is very lonely, as he hath been
since he raised Aldur’s Orb and with its power did rend the earth