the Borune family with the Dryads. Father’s use of chocolate to
persuade the Dryad Princess Xoria to go along with the notion has
always struck me as more than a little immoral.
No, I’m not going to pursue that.
The twins and I remained in the Vale working on the Darine Codex,
and a sort of generalized notion of what lay in store for mankind
began to emerge. None of us liked what we saw ahead very much.
There was a lot of turmoil, frequent wars, and incalculable human
suffering yet to come.
Three more years passed, and then one night mother’s voice came
to me with an uncharacteristic note of urgency in it. ‘Polgara!’ she
said. ‘Go to Beldaran – now! She’s very ill! She needs you!’
‘What is it, mother?’
‘I don’t know. Hurry! She’s dying, Polgara!’
That sent a deathly chill through me, and I ran quickly to the
twins’ tower. -‘I have to leave,’ I shouted up the stairs to them.
‘What’s wrong, Pol?’ Beltira called to me.
‘Beldaran’s ill – very ill. I have to go to her. I’ll keep in touch
with you.’ Then I dashed back outside again before they could ask
me how I knew that my sister was so sick. Mother’s secret absolutely
had to be protected. I chose the form of a falcon for the journey.
Speed was essential, and owls don’t fly very fast.
It was the dead of winter when I left the Vale and sped north
along the eastern edge of the mountains of Ulgoland. I chose that
route since I knew I’d encounter storms in those mountains, and I
didn’t want to be delayed. I flew almost as far north as Aldurford,
keeping a continual eye on the range of peaks that separated Algaria
from the Sendarian plain. It was obvious that the weather was foul
over those mountains. Finally, there wasn’t any help for it. I had to
turn west and fly directly into the teeth of that howling storm. It’s
sometimes possible to fly above a storm. Summer squalls and spring
showers are fairly localized. Winter storms, however, involve great
masses of air that tower so high that going over the top of them is
virtually impossible. I pressed on with the wind tearing at my
feathers and the stinging snow half blinding me. I was soon
exhausted and had no choice but to swirl down into a sheltered little valley
to rest and regain my strength.
The next day I tried staying down in those twisting valleys to
avoid the full force of the wind, but I soon realized that I was
beating my way through miles of snow-clogged air without really
accomplishing anything. Grimly I went up into the full force of the
wind again.
I finally passed the crest of the mountains and soared down the
west slope toward the Sendarian plain. It was still snowing, but
at least the wind had diminished. Then I reached the coast, and
the fight started again. The gale blowing across the Sea of the
Winds was every bit as savage as the wind in the mountains
had been, and there was no place to rest among those towering
Waves.
It took me five days altogether to reach the Isle of the Winds and
I was shaking with exhaustion when I settled at last on the
battlements of the Citadel early on the morning of the sixth day. My body
screamed for rest, but there was no time for that. I hurried through
the bleak corridors to the royal apartments and went in without
bothering to knock.
The main room of those living quarters was littered with
discarded clothing and the table cluttered with the remains of
halfeaten meals. Iron-grip, his grey clothes rumpled and his face
unshaven, came out of an exhausted half-doze as I entered. ‘Thank
the Gods!’ he exclaimed.
‘Aunt Pol!’ my nephew, who looked at least as haggard as his
father, greeted me. Daran was about twenty now, and I was
surprised at how much he had grown.
‘Where is she?’ I demanded.
‘She’s in bed, Pol,’ Riva told me. ‘She had a bad night, and she’s
exhausted. She coughs all the time, and she can’t seem to get her
breath.’
‘I need to talk with her physicians,’ I told them crisply. ‘Then I’ll
want to look at her.’
‘Ah -‘ Riva floundered. ‘We haven’t actually called in any
physicians yet, Pol. I think Elthek, the Rivan Deacons’ been praying over
her, though. He says that hiring physicians is just a waste of time
and money.’
‘He tells us that mother’s getting better, though,’ Daran added.
‘How would he know?’
‘He’s a priest, Aunt Pol. Priests are very wise.’
‘I’ve never known a priest yet who knew his right hand from his
left. Take me to your mother immediately.’ I looked around at all
the litter. ‘Get this cleaned up,’ I told them.
Daran opened the bedroom door and glanced in. ‘She’s asleep,’
he whispered.
‘Good. At least your priest isn’t inflicting any more of his
mumbo jumbo on her. From now on, keep him away from her.’
‘You can make her well, can’t you, Aunt Pol?’
‘That’s why I’m here, Daran.’ I tried to make it sound convincing.
I scarcely recognized my sister when I reached the bed. She’d lost
so much weight! The circles under eyes looked like bruises, and
her breathing was labored. I touched her drawn face briefly and
discovered that she was burning with fever. Then I did something
I’d never done before. I sent a probing thought at my sister’s mind
and merged my thought with hers.
‘Polgara?’ her sleeping thought came to me. ‘I don’t feel well.’
‘Where is it, Beldaran?’ I asked gently.
‘My chest. It feels so tight.’ Then her half-drowsing thought was
gone.
I’d more or less expected that. The accursed climate on the Isle
of the Winds was killing my sister.
I probed further, deeper into her body. As I’d expected, the center
of her illness was located in her lungs.
I came out of the bedroom and softly closed the door behind me.
‘I have to go down into the city,’ I told Riva and Daran.
‘Why?’ Riva asked me.
‘I need some medications.’
‘Elthek says that those things are a form of witchcraft, Pol,’ Riva
said. ‘He says that only prayers to Belar can cure Beldaran.’
I said some things I probably shouldn’t have said at that point.
Riva looked startled, and Daran dropped the clothing he’d been
picking up. ‘Just as soon as my sister’s on the mend, I’m going to
have a long talk with your precious Rivan Deacon,’ I told them from
between clenched teeth. ‘For right now, tell him to stay away from
Beldaran. Tell him that if he goes into her room again, I’ll make him
wish he’d never been born. I’ll be back in just a little while.’
‘I’ll send Brand with you,’ Riva offered.
‘Brand? Who’s he?’
‘Baron Kamion. Brand’s sort of a title. He’s my chief advisor, and
he carries a lot of the weight of my crown for me.’ Riva made a
rueful face. ‘I probably should have listened to him this time. He
said a lot of the things you’ve already said – about the Deacon, I
mean.’
‘Why didn’t you listen to him? Tell him to catch up with me.’
Then I stormed out of the royal apartment and went along the grim,
torchlit corridor toward the main entrance to the Citadel, muttering
some of uncle Beldin’s more colorful epithets along the way.
Kamion caught up with me just as I reached the massive doors
that opened out into the snowy courtyard. He was older, of course,
and he seemed more sober and serious than he’d been the last time
I’d seen him. His blond hair was touched at the temples with grey
now, but I noted with approval that he hadn’t gone so completely
Alorn as to grow a beard. He wore a grey woolen cloak and carried
another over his arm. ‘It’s good to see you again, Pol,’ he said. Then
he held out the extra cloak. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Put this on. It’s cold
Out there.’
‘I’m feeling very warm right now, Kamion,’ I told him. ‘Couldn’t
you keep that idiot priest away from Riva?’
He sighed. ‘I tried, Pol. Believe me I tried, but his Majesty likes
to get along with people, and Elthek waves his religious office
around like a war-banner. He’s half-convinced most of the
population that he speaks for Belar, and that’s very difficult to counter.
His Majesty’s the keeper of the Orb, and that makes him a holy
object in the eyes of the priesthood. In a peculiar way the priests
seem to think they own him. They have no real understanding of
the Orb, so they seem to believe that it’ll do anything Riva tells it
to do. They don’t comprehend the limitations. Would you believe
that Elthek even went so far as to suggest that his Majesty try to