Belgarath the Sorcerer (44 page)

Then I went to Rak Cthol.

I paused in the desert a few leagues to the west of that ugly mountain and considered a number of options. My last visit had undoubtedly convinced Ctuchik that posting sentries wouldn't be a bad idea, so getting through the city unnoticed might have been a little tricky. It was with a certain distaste that I finally came to the conclusion that I didn't really have to go
through
the city. I knew where Ctuchik's turret was, after all, and it
did
have windows.

It was late at night, so there wasn't any warm air rising up off the black sand. This meant that I had to literally claw my way up through the air as I circled the peak up and up. About the only good thing about it was the fact that after I was about fifty feet up, I couldn't see the ground any more.

As luck had it, Ctuchik had fallen asleep over his work
table, and he had his head down on his folded arms when I flapped in through his window. I shed all those vulture feathers and shook him awake. The years hadn't improved his appearance. He still looked like a walking dead man.

He half-rose with a startled exclamation, and then he got control of himself. ‘Good to see you again, old boy,' he lied.

‘I'm glad you're enjoying it. You'd better get word to your Nadraks. Tell them to call off this invasion. The Alorns know they're coming.'

His eyes went flat. ‘Someday you're going to irritate me, Belgarath.'

‘I certainly
hope
so. God knows you've irritated
me
enough lately.'

‘How did you find out about the Nadraks?'

‘I've got eyes everywhere, Ctuchik. You can't hide what you're doing from me. Didn't what happened to your scheme in Arendia convince you of that?'

‘I'd sort of wondered why that fell apart.'

‘Now you know.' I wasn't actually trying to steal Pol's credit, I just thought it might be a good idea to keep
her
part in that little coup a secret from Ctuchik for a while longer. Pol was good, but I wasn't sure if she was ready for a confrontation with Ctuchik. Besides, I didn't really want him to know about her just yet. You might say that I was holding her in reserve.

‘I'm awfully sorry, old chap,' he said with a faint sneer. ‘I'm afraid I won't be able to help you with the Nadraks. It's not really my idea. I'm just following orders from Ashaba.'

‘Don't try to be clever, Ctuchik. I know you can talk with Torak any time you need to. You'd better do that right now. You weren't around when we invaded the country around Korim. Believe me, Torak gets
very
upset when large numbers of Angaraks get killed, and what's right on the verge of happening on the Drasnian border is very likely to exterminate the Nadraks entirely. I've seen the way Alorns make war. It's entirely up to you, of course;
I'm
not the one who's going to have to answer to Torak.' Then, just to twist
the knife a bit and add to his confusion, I smirked at him. ‘You
really
need a copy of the Ashabine Oracles, old boy,' I told him spitefully. ‘The Mrin Codex is giving me
very
good instructions. I knew all about this little game of yours a couple hundred years ago, so I've had
lots
of time to get ready for you.' Then I smiled beatifically at him. ‘Always nice talking with you, Ctuchik,' I told him. Then I stepped to the window and jumped.

That
little exercise in gross theatricality almost got me killed. I was no more than a hundred feet above the desert floor when I finally got all my feathers in place. Changing form while you're falling is
very
difficult. For some reason, it's hard to concentrate when the ground's coming up at you that fast.

Aside from the opportunity it gave me to add to Ctuchik's confusion, however, my visit to Rak Cthol was largely a waste of time. I should have known that Torak would never back away from something once he'd set it in motion, no matter
how
many things got in his way. His ego simply would not permit it. The Nadraks came howling across the Drasnian border before I even got back from Rak Cthol, and, quite predictably, the Alorns met them head-on and soundly defeated them. A few of them
did
manage to escape, but it was centuries before there were enough Nadraks again even to worry about.

Torak evidently juggled things around in his mind sufficiently that it wasn't
his
fault for ignoring my warning. In commemoration of the event, he ordered his Grolims to quadruple the number of sacrifices. Over the centuries, his Grolims have killed more Angaraks than the Alorns ever have.

After the survivors of that debacle limped back to Gar og Nadrak and hid out in the forest, I went to Arendia to see what Pol was up to. I finally located her in Vo Wacune, living in a splendid house not far from the ducal palace. Like all the rest of Vo Wacune, her house had been constructed of marble, and it positively gleamed. It was quite
a large house, and it had wings to it that partially enclosed a well-tended flower garden with paved walks, neatly-trimmed hedges and manicured lawns. ‘What's all this?' I asked her when her servants finally ushered me into her presence.

She was sitting in an ornate chair by a rose quartz fireplace that glowed pink, wearing a truly stunning blue gown. ‘I'm moving up in the world, father.'

‘You found a gold mine somewhere?'

‘Something better, actually. My estate is quite large, and the land's very fertile.'

‘Your estate?'

‘It's just to the north of Lake Medalia - over on the other side of the River Camaar. I even have a manor house up there. You have the distinct honor to be addressing her Grace, the Duchess of Erat.'

‘Be serious, Pol.'

‘I
am
serious, father. The old duke was
very
grateful for the information I gave him about Ctuchik's scheme, so I've always been welcome at the ducal palace.'

I gave her a hard look. ‘He gave you a title just for following the Master's instructions? And you accepted it? Tacky, Pol, very tacky. We aren't supposed to take rewards for obeying orders.'

‘It went a little further, old wolf. You know the situation here in Arendia?'

‘Last I heard, the Wacites and the Mimbrates were allied against the Asturians. That alliance seems to be lasting longer than most of the others.'

‘It's still in effect, father. Anyway, after the old duke died, his son Alleran took the ducal throne. He and I were quite close, since I'd helped his mother raise him. We married Alleran off - I even persuaded his mother
not
to let him marry his cousin - and in due time, his wife presented him with a son. The Duke of Vo Astur saw a chance to muddy the waters here in Arendia when that happened, and he sent a group of his underlings to abduct the little boy. The
current Duke of Vo Astur is a crude sort of fellow, and the note his hirelings left was very direct. He told Alleran that he'd kill his son unless Wacune abrogated the treaty with Mimbre and stayed strictly neutral. I went to Vo Astur and rescued the little boy. I
also
gave the Asturian Duke a lesson in good manners.'

‘What did you do to him?' I asked the question a bit apprehensively. There are certain rules concerning the use of our gift. ‘You didn't kill him, did you?'

‘Of
course
not, father. I know better than that. The Duke of Vo Astur has an open sore on the lining of his stomach now. It provides him with all sorts of entertainment, and it keeps him out of mischief. That was five years ago, and there hasn't been a major battle in Arendia since I visited Vo Astur.'

‘You've made peace in Arendia?' I was stunned.

‘A temporary peace, father,' she corrected. ‘It's probably too early to tell if it's permanent. I'll ulcerate stomachs from one end of Arendia to the other if I have to in order to put an end to this foolishness, though. Duke Alleran was very grateful, and that's why I'm the Duchess of Erat now.'

‘Why didn't
I
think of that?' I exclaimed. ‘It's so simple. You ended the Arendish civil wars with a belly-ache.' I bowed to her. ‘I'm proud of you, your Grace.'

‘Why, thank you, father,' she beamed. Then she pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘The congratulations might be a little premature, though. As soon as there's a new duke in either Vo Mimbre or Vo Astur, hostilities might break out again. I think I'd better stay here in Vo Wacune. These Wacites are the least aggressive of the Arends, and I have a certain amount of authority here because of my friendship with the duke's family. Possibly I can guide them in the right direction.
Somebody
in Arendia is going to have to take the role of peacemaker. Give me a little time here, and I might just be able to establish a custom.
Maybe
I can get the Mimbrates and Asturians into the habit of bringing their
disputes to Vo Wacune for mediation instead of trying to solve them on the battlefield.'

‘That's a lot to hope for in Arendia, Pol.'

She shrugged. ‘It's worth a try. Go get cleaned up, father. There's a grand ball at the ducal palace tonight, and we've been invited - well,
I
have, but you can come along as my personal guest.'

‘A
what
?'

‘A grand ball, father - music, dancing, polite conversation, that sort of thing.'

‘I don't dance, Pol.'

She smiled sweetly at me. ‘I'm sure you'll pick it up in no time, old wolf. You're a very clever fellow. Now go bathe and trim your beard. Don't embarrass me in public.'

I moved around quite a bit during the next six hundred years or so, but Polgara remained in Vo Wacune. Her assessment of the Wacite Arends proved to be essentially correct, and with her there to guide them, they were able to keep a tentative peace in Arendia.

The virtual destruction of the Nadraks had persuaded the cadaverous Ctuchik to pull in his horns, so there was even an uneasy peace along the eastern frontier.

As I'd promised Dellon's father, the Borunes ascended the throne of Tolnedra - 2537 or so, I believe it was. The Vorduvians and the Honethites had been passing the crown back and forth between them for centuries, so when Ran Vordue XX died without an heir, the Honeths assumed that it was their turn again. There were several Honethite nobles who felt that they were qualified, and the resulting divisions in that family were severe enough to deadlock the Council of Advisors. I've heard that the bribes were astronomical. Ultimately, a southern council-member rather tentatively placed the name of the Grand Duke of the Borunes in nomination. The Vorduvians and the Horbites had not been pleased at the prospect of several centuries of Honethite misrule, so they dropped their own candidates and swung their support to the Borunes. Since the Honeths were still divided, they had no single candidate, and the crown went to the Borunes almost by default.

Ran Borune I was a very capable emperor. The major problem in Tolnedra at that time was still the ongoing raids along the coast by Cherek freebooters. Ran Borune took steps almost as soon as his coronation was over. He pulled the legions out of their garrisons and put them to work
building the highway that now connects Tol Vordue and Tol Horb. He didn't make the legions happy by doing that, but he remained firm. He got his highway, but that was more in the nature of a bonus. His real purpose in the project was to spread his legions out along the coast to repel the Chereks no matter where they came ashore. All in all, it worked out rather well. I'd spent quite some time in Val Alorn trying to talk sense into various Cherek kings, without much success. Inevitably, they'd piously declare that they were merely following the instructions Belar had given them after the Tolnedran invasion of Maragor. I'd tried to point out that Tolnedra had been sufficiently punished by now, but they'd refused to listen to me. I suspect that the loot they were picking up in Tolnedran cities might have had something to do with that upsurge of religious enthusiasm. When their raiding parties started encountering the legions, however, their piety began to cool, and other parts of the world became much more interesting.

I think it was about 2940 when I happened to swing by Vo Wacune to see how Polgara was doing. I may have gotten there just in time. Her Grace, the Duchess of Erat, was in love. I
knew
she'd been spending too much time in Arendia.

She was in her marble-walled garden tending roses when I arrived. ‘Well, old wolf,' she greeted me, ‘what have you been up to?'

I shrugged. ‘This and that,' I replied.

‘Is the world still in one piece?'

‘More or less. I've had to patch it a few times, though.'

‘Would you look at this?' she said, cutting a rose and handing it to me. It was a white rose, but not entirely. The tips of the petals were a pale lavender.

‘Very nice,' I said.

‘That's all you can say? Very nice? It's beautiful, father. Ontrose developed it just for me.'

‘Who's Ontrose?'

‘He's the man I'm going to marry, father - just as soon as he gets up the nerve to ask me.'

What was this? I got very careful at that point. ‘Interesting idea, Pol. Send him around and we'll talk about it.'

‘You don't approve.'

‘I didn't say that. Have you thought your way completely through the notion, though?'

‘Yes, father, I have.'

‘And the drawbacks didn't persuade you to think about it a little more?'

‘What drawbacks were those?'

‘Well, in the first place, there's quite a difference in your ages, I'd imagine. He's probably not much over thirty, and if I remember correctly, you're about nine hundred and fifty.'

‘Nine hundred and forty, actually. What's that got to do with it?'

‘You'll outlive him, Pol. He'll be old before you've turned around twice.'

‘I think I'm entitled to a
little
bit of happiness, father - even if it doesn't last very long.'

‘And were you planning to have children?'

‘Of course.'

‘The chances are very good that they'll have normal life-spans as well, you know.
You
won't get old.
They
will.'

‘Don't try to talk me out of this, father.'

‘I'm not. I'm just pointing out a few realities to you. You remember how you felt when Beldaran died, don't you? Do you really want to go through that again - a half-dozen times or so?'

‘I can endure it, father. Maybe if I get married, my life will become normal. Maybe I'll get old as well.'

‘I wouldn't make any large wagers on that, Pol. You've still got a lot of things to do, and if I'm reading the Mrin Codex correctly, you're going to be around for a long time. I'm very sorry, Pol, but we
aren't
normal. You've been here
for almost a thousand years, and I've been kicking around for nearly five.'

‘
You
got married,' she accused.

‘I was
supposed
to, and your mother was very different. She lived longer, for one thing.'

‘Maybe marrying me will extend Ontrose's life as well.'

‘I wouldn't count on it. It might
seem
longer to him, though.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘You're not the easiest person in the world to get along with, Pol.'

Her eyes turned cold. ‘I think we've just about exhausted the possibilities of this conversation, father. Go back to the Vale and keep your nose out of my affairs.'

‘Don't throw the word “affair” around like that, Pol. It makes me nervous.'

She drew herself up. ‘That will do, father,' she told me. Then she turned and stormed away.

I stayed around for another couple of weeks, and I even met Ontrose. He was a nice enough young fellow, I suppose, and he
seemed
to understand the situation much better than Pol did. He adored her, of course, but he was fully aware of just how long she'd been in Vo Wacune - about six hundred years if my arithmetic is correct. I was fairly sure that he was
not
going to ask her any inappropriate questions, no matter how much she might have wanted him to.

Finally, I left and started back for the Vale. I have certain advantages, so I was fairly sure that nothing was going to come of Pol's infatuation. She's frequently mentioned in both the Darine and the Mrin Codex, but there's no reference to a husband until much later. Either she was going to come to her senses, or Ontrose would live out his life without ever asking her to marry him. In either case nothing embarrassing was likely to happen.

I went back to my studies, but it was only three years later when Pol called me, rousing me out of a sound sleep
in the middle of one blustery night. ‘
Father
!' Her voice sounded desperate. ‘
I need you!
'

‘
What's the matter
?'

‘
The Asturians have betrayed us. They've formed an alliance with the Mimbrates, and they're marching on Vo Wacune. Hurry, father. There isn't much time
.'

I rolled out of bed, dressed, and picked up my traveling cloak. I did stop for a few moments to look at a certain passage in the Mrin Codex before I left, however. I hadn't been entirely sure what it meant before, but Polgara's urgent summons had suddenly made everything clear.

Fabled Vo Wacune was doomed. The only thing I could do now was try to get Pol out of there before the inevitable happened.

I hurried westward to the edge of the Vale through the tag end of that windy night and went wolf. There wasn't much point in trying to sprout feathers. I wouldn't have made much headway trying to fly into the teeth of that howling gale.

It was two days later and I was about half-way across Ulgoland before the wind finally abated. Then I took wing and was able to make better time.

I reached Vo Wacune about mid-afternoon of the following day, but I didn't go immediately into the marble city. I circled over the surrounding forest instead, and it didn't take me very long to locate the Asturians. They were no more than a few leagues from the gates of Vo Wacune. They'd be in place by morning, and there was absolutely nothing anybody could do to stop them. I swore and flew on back to the city.

Normally, I'll change back to my own form before I enter any populated place, but this was an emergency. I flew on and settled into a tree in Pol's garden.

As it turned out, she was in the garden, and she wasn't alone. Ontrose was with her. He was wearing chain mail, and he had a sword belted around his waist. ‘It must needs be, dear lady,' he was saying to her. ‘Thou must go from
Vo Wacune to a place of safety. The Asturians are almost at the city gates.'

I slid back into my real form and climbed down out of the tree. ‘He's right, Pol,' I said. Ontrose looked a little startled, but Pol was used to that sort of thing.

‘Where have you been?' she demanded.

‘I ran into some wind. Get your things together. We've got to get you out of here right now.'

‘I'm not going anywhere. Now that you're here, we can drive off the Asturians.'

‘No, as a matter of fact, we can't. It's prohibited. I'm sorry, Pol, but this has to happen, and we're not allowed to interfere.'

‘Is it certain, Ancient One?' Ontrose asked me.

‘I'm afraid so, Ontrose. Has Polgara told you about the prophecies?'

He nodded gravely.

‘The passage in the Mrin Codex is very obscure, but there's not much question now about what it means. You might want to talk with the duke. If you hurry, you
may
be able to get the women and children to safety, but the city's not going to be here in a few days. I saw the Asturians as I was coming in. They're throwing everything they've got at you.'

‘They will have much less when they return to Vo Astur,' he said bleakly.

‘I'm not leaving,' Polgara said stubbornly.

‘Thou art in error, dear lady,' he told her quite firmly. ‘Thou wilt accompany thy father and go from this place.'

‘No! I won't leave you!'

‘His Grace, the duke, hath placed me in command of the defense of the city, Lady Polgara. It is my responsibility to deploy our forces. There is no place in that deployment for thee. I therefore instruct thee to depart. Go.'

‘No!'

‘Thou art the Duchess of Erat, Lady Polgara, and therefore of the Wacite nobility. Thine oath of fealty to his Grace,
our duke, demands thine obedience. Do not dishonor thy station by this stubborn refusal. Make ready. Thou shalt depart within the hour.'

Her chin came up sharply. ‘That was unkindly said, my Lord,' she accused.

‘The truth often
is
unkindly, my Lady. We both have responsibilities. I will not fail mine. Do not fail thine. Now go.'

Her eyes suddenly filled with helpless tears. She embraced him fiercely and then fled back into the house.

‘Thanks, Ontrose,' I said simply, clasping his hand. ‘I wasn't making very much headway there.'

‘Care for her, Ancient One. She is the very core of my life.'

‘I will, Ontrose, and we'll remember you.'

‘That is, perhaps, the best that one can hope for. Now I must go and see to our defenses. Farewell, Ancient Belgarath.'

‘Farewell, Ontrose.'

And so I took my weeping daughter out of the doomed city. We went north, crossed the River Camaar, and journeyed back through Muros toward the pass that led across the mountains to Algaria. I kept a very close watch on Polgara the whole time - I didn't want any backsliding, but it probably wasn't really necessary. She
was
, as Ontrose had so pointedly reminded her, a member of the nobility. She had her orders, and she was not likely to disobey.

She refused to talk to me, but that was to be expected, I guess. What I
didn't
expect was her adamant refusal to return to the Vale with me. When we reached the tumbled ruin of her mother's cottage, she stopped. ‘This is as far as I'm going,' she told me.

‘What?'

‘You heard me, father. I'm going to stay here.'

‘You have work to do, Pol.'

‘That's too bad.
You'll
have to take care of it. Go back to your tower and snuggle up to your prophecies, but leave
me out of it. We're through, father. This is the end of it. Now go away and don't bother me any more.'

I could see that there was no point in trying to argue with her. I'd been through my own grief, so I had some idea of what she was enduring. I'd have to keep an eye on her, of course - from a distance. She'd just spent six hundred years in Arendia, and some of it might have rubbed off. Arendish ladies turn suicidal at the drop of a hat. If the least little disappointment comes along, an Arendish lady immediately starts thinking about knives and poison and rivers and high towers she can jump from. Pol would get over this eventually, but in the meantime, she'd have to be watched.

I went back to the Vale and enlisted the twins. I'd have used Beldin, too, but he'd gone back to Mallorea. We took turns hiding in the bushes near Poledra's cottage for the next five or six years. At first my broken-hearted daughter simply camped out in the ruins, but eventually she started making some minimal repairs. I felt that to be a good sign, and the twins and I started to relax a bit. We still watched her, though.