was too horrible to even contemplate. And in that same moment I
knew that it would be Zedar who would ultimately find and deliver
the one who would replace Torak to all of mankind. At last I understood
the absolute necessity of Zedar’s existence. He would give
humanity the greatest gift it would ever receive, and all he’d get in
return would be living entombment.
I think Zedar himself may have caught a hint of that premonition
as well, because his face turned very pale.
I looked back at the serpent queen. ‘Take my advice, Salmissra,’
I told her. ‘Don’t get involved in this diseased game Ctuchik and
Zedar are playing with you. No matter how much they promise,
neither of them can deliver up Torak’s affection. They don’t control
Torak. It’s the other way around, and when you get right down to
the bottom of it, Torak doesn’t even particularly like his disciples.
Zedar found out about that at Vo Mimbre, didn’t you, Zedar? The
possibility that you’d vanish in a puff of smoke if you broke the
rules didn’t particularly bother Torak, did it? You gave up the love
of one God for the indifference of another. Very poor choice there,
old boy.’
A look of almost overwhelming regret came over his face, accompanied
by absolute hopelessness. It was so naked that I was almost
ashamed of myself.
‘I’m so happy that the three of us had the chance for this little
chat,’ I told them. ‘I hope that it’s cleared the air. Now you both fully
understand what I’m going to do to you if you keep on interfering in
something that’s really none of your business. Be guided by me in
this, gentles all, for, should ye persist, our next meeting
shall be
most unpleasant.’
I just threw that in. I thought it had a nice archaic ring to it. Evidently
something of my father’s nature has filtered down to me, because
every so often I get this overpowering urge to be melodramatic.
Hereditary character defect there, perhaps.
Then I left Sthiss Tor, but I didn’t immediately return to Annath. I
spent several weeks high in the Tolnedran mountains pondering
that sudden insight that had come to me in Salmissra’s throne-room.
I knew that Zedar would be the one to find Eriond, though I didn’t
even know Eriond’s name at that point. The more I thought about
I s ong o or o amp ring. ere
was a difference, though. I’d encountered that kind of thing before
and there’s a different feel – ‘odor’, if you will – to mother’s
tampering, or UL’s, or that of the PUrpose. This time it was quite different
I didn’t recognize it at all, and that made me a little edgy. A new
player had evidently taken a seat in the game. I recognize it now,
of course. I should, after all, since I raised this new player from a
little boy here in this very cottage.
One of these days I think I’ll have a talk with Eriond about that. I
think I’d like to get to the bottom of these little visitations. If there’s
a reason for them, I suppose they’re all right, but if they’re
fun, somebody’s going to get a piece of my mind.
I was also very unhappy about what it was becoming increasingly
obvious that I was going to have to do to Salmissra. She and I both
knew it was going to happen, but she was evidently going to be
persuaded by someone that I wouldn’t really be able to do it. My
only solace now lies in the fact that since she’s become adjusted to
it, she’s not really too unhappy that it happened, and Nyissa’s much
better off with her on the throne in her present form.
No matter how I twisted and turned it around, there was nothing
I could really do to prevent what was already destined to happen.
Finally, I gave up and went back to Annath.
Father scolded me when I returned, of course, but I didn’t
really pay too much attention to him, since I already knew most of what
he was trying to tell me anyway.
After the winter had passed, father’s wanderlust bit him again,
and he went back out to have a look at
him that it was still there, but he had to see for himself, I
guess.
went on over into Algaria and made contact with the clan which
had already produced Ildera, the girl who was destined to marry
Geran. I had a private talk with her father, the clan-chief, and along
about midsummer, the clan moved its herds and set up a more or
less permanent encampment just across the border from Annath.
The word ‘border’ doesn’t mean much around there, though. If you
look around and see trees, you’re in Sendaria; if it’s grass, you’re
in Algaria. There were visits back and forth across that vague line
Of demarcation, of course, and eventually, Geran, who was nine,
met the seven-year-old Ildera. I wasn’t even there, but I
heard that
bell nonetheless.
Everything was right on schedule.
When Geran was about twelve, his father started taking him to
the stone-quarry to begin his education. He developed the usual
aches, pains and blisters right at first, but in time his muscles
hardened and he grew more skilled at the family profession.
Life moved along quietly in Annath. Back in the remote mountain
villages of Sendaria it’s fairly common for the citizens to be unaware
of the current king’s name and for the death of a cow to be the
major topic of discussion for a year or so.
Then in 5345, father and the twins came to Annath. ‘There are
some people you need to meet, Pol,’ father told me. ‘Beltira and
Belkira can fill in for you here while I take you around to introduce
You to some of the people you’ve been reading about in the Mrin
for the last three thousand years.’
I didn’t really object. I’d more or less had enough of rural isolation
for a while.
We crossed the border into Algaria, and I met the grim-faced little
boy named Hettar. ‘I think that one’s going to be a problem, father,’
I predicted as we rode away from King Cho-Ram’s encampment.
‘It’s possible, Pol,’ he agreed.
‘We’ll probably have to chain him to a post when he grows up.
I’m not really all that fond of Murgos myself, but Hettar’s right on
the verge of turning it into a religion.’
‘The Murgos did kill his parents, Pol.’
‘Yes. He told me about that. But he’ll be the King of the Algars
one day, and that seething hatred of his is likely to cause us some
problems.’
‘I can handle him, Pol,’ father said confidently.
‘Of course you can,’ I replied. ‘Where do we go next?’
‘Boktor. Brace yourself, Pol. Prince Kheldar’s a very slippery
young man.’
‘He’s only ten years old, father.’
‘I know, but he’s already as slippery as an eel.
Kheldar turned out to be even slipperier than that. He was
charming, exquisitely polite, and totally without scruples. Oddly enough,
I rather liked him.
Then father and I went to Trellheim in Cherek to meet Barak and
his cousin, Crown Prince Anheg. I had one of those peculiar feelings
that come over us from time to time when I first met them. It seemed
almost that Anrak, Iron-grip’s cousin, was coming back to haunt
me. Barak and Anheg were both Chereks down to their toenails, and
you know what that means. They were both, however, extremely
intelligent. They managed to hide it well, though.
It was late autumn by then, and father took me back to Annath.
‘We can go talk with the others next summer, Pol,’ he said. ‘I wanted
you to meet the Alorns-first. They’re the ones most likely to cause
problems.’
‘I thought you liked Alorns. father.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘You spend a lot of time with them.’
‘I have to spend time with them, Pol. Every Alorn’s a disaster
just waiting to happen. The Master told me to keep an eye on
the Alorns about five thousand years ago, and it’s turned into
a full-time job. He told me to do it, and I’ll do it. I won’t like it,
though.’
‘You’re such a good boy, father.’
The following spring, mother’s voice came to me. ‘It’s time-for you
to go back to school, Pol,’ she announced.
‘Oh?’
‘There are a couple of things you’re going to need to know how to do
fairly soon.’
‘Such as what?’
‘You’re going to need to know how to play with people’s memories.’
‘Would you define “play with”, mother?’
‘I want you to practice making people forget some things that have
happened the way you did when we first started your training, and then
you’ll learn how to replace those memories with the image of things that
didn’t happen.’
‘Can we actually do that?’