startled me. They were all very wise, but they were still men, and
the notion that I was as much the Master’s disciple as they were
seemed to unsettle them, since most men can’t seem to accept the
fact that women have souls, much less minds. ‘
Father’s temporary disquiet faded when the Master assured him
that Torak could not alter the Ashabine Oracles enough to send
Zedar, Ctuchik, and Urvon down the wrong path. No matter how
much Torak disliked his vision, he would not be permitted to tamper
with it in any significant fashion. Zedar was with him at Ashaba,
and Zedar was to some degree still working for us – at least insofar
as he would protect the integrity of prophecy. And even if Zedar
failed, the Dals would not.
Then the Master left us, and he left behind a great emptiness as
well.
Things were quiet in the Vale for the next several years, and our
peculiar fellowship has always enjoyed those quiet stretches, since
they give us a chance to study, and study is our primary occupation,
after all.
I think it was in the spring of the year 2025 – by the Alorn calendar
– when Algar Fleet-foot brought us copies of the complete Darine
Codex and the half-finished Mrin. Algar was in his mid-forties by
now, and his dark hair was touched with grey. He’d finally begun
to put some weight on that lean frame of his and he was very
impressive. What was perhaps even more impressive was the fact
that he’d actually learned how to talk – not a great deal, of course,
but getting more than two words at a time out of Algar had always
been quite an accomplishment.
My father eagerly seized the scrolls and probably would have
gone off into seclusion with them at once, but when Algar casually
announced the upcoming meeting of the Alorn Council, I badgered
my aged sire about it until he finally gave in and agreed that a visit
to the Isle might not be a bad idea.
Fleet-foot accompanied father, Beldin and me to the city of Riva
for the council meetings, though the affairs of state weren’t really
very much on our minds. The supposed earth-shaking significance
of those ‘councils of state’ were little more than excuses for family
get-togethers in those days, and we could quite probably have taken
care of the entire official agenda with a few letters.
In my case, I wanted to spend some time with my sister, and I’d
clubbed my father into submission by suggesting that he ought to
get to know his grandson.
That particular bait might have worked just a little too well. Daran
was about seven that year, and father has a peculiar affinity for
seven-year-old boys for some reason. But I think it goes a little
deeper. I’ve noticed that mature men get all gushy inside when
they come into contact with their grandsons, and my father was no
exception. He and Daran hit it off immediately. Although it was
spring and the weather on the Isle was abysmally foul, the two of
them decided to go off on an extended fishing expedition, of all
things. What is this thing with fishing? Do all men lose their ability
to think rationally when they hear the word ‘fish’?
The note my father left for us was characteristically vague about
little things like destinations, equipment, and food supplies. Poor
Beldaran worried herself sick about what our irresponsible father
was up to, but there was nothing she could do. Father can evade
the most determined searchers.
I was worried more about something else. My twin seemed very
pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She coughed quite
a bit and was at times listless almost to the point of exhaustion. I
spent quite a bit of time with Arell and with our resident herbalist,
who concocted several remedies for his queen. They seemed to help
my sister a little, but I was still very concerned about the condition
of her health.
Inevitably, Beldaran and I were growing further and further apart.
When we’d been children, we’d been so close that we were almost
one person, but after her marriage, our lives diverged. beldaran was
completely caught up in her husband and child, and I was involved
in my studies. If we’d lived closer to each other, our separation
might not have been so obvious and painful, but we were separated
by all those empty leagues, so there wasn’t much opportunity for
us to stay in touch.
This is very painful for me, so I don’t think I’ll pursue it any further.
After a month or so, father, Beldin, and I returned to the Vale and
to the waiting Darine Codex.
*CHAPTER9
It was late summer when we returned home from the Isle of the
Winds. It’s nice to visit loved ones, but it always feels good to come
back to the Vale. There’s a peace here that we find in no other place.
I suppose that when you get right down to it, the Vale of Aldur is
hardly more than an extension of the southern tip of Algaria, but I
think that if you come here, you’ll notice the difference immediately.
Our grass is greener, for some reason, and our sky seems a deeper
blue. The land is gently rolling and dotted here and there with
dark pines and with groves of snowy-trunked birch and aspen. The
mountains of Ulgoland lying to the west are crested with eternal
snows that are always tinged with blue in the morning, and the
starker mountains of Mishrak ac Thull that claw at the sky beyond
the Eastern Escarpment are purple in the distance. My father’s tower
and the towers of my uncles are stately structures, and since they
were in no hurry when they built them, they had plenty of time to
make sure that the stones fit tightly together, which makes the
towers seem more like natural outcroppings than the work of human
hands. Everything here is somehow perfectly right with nothing out
of place and no ugliness anywhere to be seen.
Our fawn-colored deer are so tame as to sometimes be a nuisance,
and underfoot there are always long-eared rabbits with puffy white
tails. The fact that the twins feed them might have something to do
with that. I feed my birds, too, but that’s an entirely different matter.
It’s probably because our Vale lies at the juncture of two mountain
ranges that there’s always a gentle breeze blowing here, and it
undulates the grass in long waves, almost like a sea.
When we returned home father seemed quite fully prepared to
go into absolute seclusion with the Darine Codex clasped to his
,bosom, but my uncles would have none of that. ‘Hang it all,
Belgarath,’ Beltira said with uncharacteristic heat one evening as the sun
was touching the sky over Ulgo with fire, ‘you’re not the only one
with a stake in this, you know. We all need copies.’
Father’s expression grew sullen. ‘You can read it when I’m
finished. Right now I don’t have time to fool around with pens and
ink-pots.’
‘You’re selfish, Belgarath,’ uncle Beldin growled at him, scratching
at his shaggy beard and sprawling deeper into his chair by the fire.
‘That’s always been your one great failing. Well, it’s not going to
work this time. You aren’t going to get any peace until we’ve all
got copies.’
Father glowered at
him’You’re holding the only copy we have, Belgarath,’Belkira pointed
out. ‘If something happens to it, it might take us months to get a
replacement.’
‘I’ll be careful with it.’
‘You just want to keep it all to yourself,’ Beltira accused him.
‘You’ve been riding that “first disciple” donkey for years now.’
‘That has nothing to do with it.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘This is ridiculous!’ Beldin burst out. ‘Give me that thing,
Belgarath.’
‘But -‘
‘Hand it over – or do we want to get physical about it? I’m stronger
than you are, and I can take it from you if I have to.’
Father grudgingly handed him the scroll. ‘Don’t lose my place,’
he told his gnarled little brother.
‘Oh, shut up.’ Beldin looked at the twins. ‘How many copies do
we need?’
‘One for each of us, anyway,’ Beltira replied. ‘Where do you keep
your ink-pots, Belgarath?’
‘We won’t need any of that,’ Beldin told him. He looked around
and then pointed at one of father’s work-tables which stood not far
from where I was busy preparing supper. ‘Clear that off,’he ordered.
‘I’m working on some of those things,’ father protested.
‘Not very hard, I see. The dust and cobwebs are fairly thick.’
The twins were already stacking father’s books, notes, and
meticulously constructed little models of obscure mechanical devices on
the floor.
My father’s always taken credit for what Beldin did on that perfect
evening, since he can annex an idea as quickly as he can annex any