Aldur smiled faintly. ‘It is uncharitable of thee, Belgarath,’ he told me. Then he actually laughed. ‘I must confess that I find myself in full agreement with thee, however. But no, Belgarath, my father is most patient. Not even the one who is currently Gorim could offend him so much. I will investigate this troubling matter and advise thee of my findings.’
‘I thank thee, Master,’ I said, taking my leave. Then I stopped by Beldin’s place to invite him to come by for a few tankards and a bit of talk. I prudently borrowed a keg of ale from the twins on my way home.
Beldin came stumping up the stairs to the room at the top of my tower and drained off his first tankard without stopping for breath. Then he belched and wordlessly handed it back to me for a refill.
I dipped more ale from the keg, and we sat down across the table from each other. ‘Well?’ I said.
‘Well what?’ That was Beldin for you.
‘What’s happening in Mallorea?’
‘Can you be a little more specific? Mallorea’s a big place,’ The wolf had come over and laid her chin in his lap. She’d always seemed fond of Beldin for some reason. He scratched her ears absently.
‘What’s Torak doing?’ I asked with some asperity.
‘Burning, actually.’ Beldin grinned that ugly, crooked grin of his. ‘I think our Master’s brother’s going to burn for a long, long time.’
‘Is that still going on?’ I was a little surprised. ‘I’d have thought the fire would have gone out by now.’
‘Not noticeably. You can’t see the flames any more, but old Burnt-face is still on fire. The Orb was very discontented with him, and it is a stone, after all. Stones aren’t noted for their forgiveness. Torak spends a lot of his time screaming.’
‘Isn’t that a shame?’ I said with a vast insincerity.
Beldin grinned at me again. ‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘after he broke the world apart, he had his Angaraks put the Orb in an iron box so that he wouldn’t have to look at it. Just the sight of it makes the fire hotter, I guess. That ocean he’d built was chasing the Angaraks just as fast as it was chasing us, so they ran off to the east with the waves lapping at their heels. All their holy places got swallowed up when the water came in, and they either had to sprout gills or find high ground.’
‘I find that I can bear their discomfort with enormous fortitude,’ I said smugly.
‘Belgarath, you’ve been spending too much time with the Alorns. You’re even starting to sound like one.’
I shrugged. ‘Alorns aren’t really all that bad – once you get used to them.’
‘I’d rather not. They set my teeth on edge.’
‘What happened next?’
‘That explosion we saw when the water hit the lava boiling up out of the crack in the earth’s crust rearranged the geography off to the east rather significantly. There’s an impressive swamp between where Korim used to be and where Kell is.’
‘Is Kell still there?’
‘Kell’s always been there, Belgarath, and it probably always will be. There was a city at Kell before the rest of us came down out of the trees. This new swamp hasn’t been there long enough to really settle down yet but the Angaraks managed to slog through far enough in to keep from drowning. Torak himself was busy screaming, so his army commanders were obliged to take charge. It didn’t take them very long to realize that all that muck wasn’t exactly suitable for human habitation.’
‘I’m surprised that it bothered them. Angaraks adore ugliness.’
‘Anyway, there was a big argument between the generals and the Grolims, I understand. The Grolims were hoping that the sea would recede so that they could all go back to Korim. The altars were there, after all. The generals were more practical. They knew that the water wasn’t going to go down. They stopped wasting time arguing and ordered the army to march off toward the northwest and to take the rest of Angarak with them. They marched away and left the Grolims standing on the beach staring longingly off toward Korim.’ He belched again and held out his empty tankard.
‘You know where it is,’ I told him sourly.
‘You’re not much of a host, Belgarath.’ He rose, stumped over to the keg, and scooped his tankard full, slopping beer all over my floor. Then he stumped back. ‘The Grolims weren’t very happy about the generals’ decision. They wanted to go back, but if they went back all alone, there wouldn’t be anybody to butcher but each other, and they’re not quite that devout. They went chasing after the horde, haranguing them to turn around. That irritated the generals, and there were a number of ugly incidents. I guess that’s what started the break-up of Angarak society.’
‘The what?’ I said, startled.
‘I speak plainly, Belgarath. Is your hearing starting to fail? I’ve heard that happens to you old people.’
‘What do you mean, “the break-up of Angarak society”?’
‘They’re coming apart at the seams. As long as Torak was functioning, the Grolim priesthood had everything their way. During the war, the generals got a taste of power, and they liked it. With Torak incapacitated, the Grolims really don’t have any authority; most Angaraks feel the same way about Grolims as Belsambar does. Anyway, the generals led the Angaraks up through the mountains, and they came down on a plain that was more or less habitable. They built a large military camp at a place they call Mal Zeth, and they put guards around it to keep the Grolims out. Eventually, the Grolims gave up and took their followers north and built another encampment. They call it Mal Yaska. So now you’ve got two different kinds of Angaraks in Mallorea. The soldiers at Mal Zeth are like soldiers everywhere; religion isn’t one of their highest priorities. The zealots at Mal Yaska spend so much time praying to Torak that they haven’t gotten around to building houses yet.’
‘I wouldn’t have believed that could ever happen,’ I said, ‘not to Angaraks. Religion’s the only thing they’ve ever been able to think about.’ Then I thought of something. ‘How did Belsambar react when you told him about this?’
Beldin shrugged. ‘He didn’t believe me. He can’t accept the fact that Angarak society disintegrated. Our brother’s having a lot of trouble right now, Belgarath. I think he’s feeling some obscure racial guilt. He is an Angarak, after all, and Torak did drown more than half of mankind. Maybe you’d better have a talk with him – persuade him that it’s not really his fault.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I promised. ‘Is that the way things stand in Mallorea right now?’
He laughed. ‘Oh, no. It gets better. Here about twenty years ago, Torak stopped feeling sorry for himself and came to his senses. Back in the old days, he’d have simply stamped Mal Zeth into a mud-puddle and let it go at that, but now he’s got his mind on other things. He stole the Orb, but he can’t do anything with it. The frustration’s making him more than a little crazy. He winnowed through Mal Zeth and Mal Yaska, took the most fanatic of his worshipers, and went to the far northeast coast – up near the lands of the Karands. When they got there, he ordered his followers to build him a tower – out of iron.’
‘Iron?’ I said incredulously. ‘An iron tower wouldn’t last ten years. It’d start to rust before you even got it put together.’
‘He ordered it not to, I guess. Torak’s fond of iron for some reason. Maybe he got the idea from that iron box he keeps the Orb in. I think he’s got some strange notion that if he piles enough iron around the Orb, he can weaken it to the point that he can control it.’
‘That’s pure nonsense!’
‘Don’t blame me. It’s Torak’s idea, not mine. The people he took with him built a city up there,