‘What is?’
‘Your mind still works. I thought that maybe you’d broken it during the course of the last dozen years.’
‘I came close. Another few years in Camaar probably would have turned the trick. I was drinking everything in sight.’
‘So I heard. What finally persuaded you to dry out?’
‘The Master paid me a call. I sobered up in a hurry after that and left Camaar. I went down through Arendia and Tolnedra – you know about all that if you’ve been trailing me. Did the Dryads cause you any problems when you went through their woods?’
‘I didn’t see a one of them.’
‘Maybe it’s the wrong time of year. They definitely interrupted my trip.’
‘Oh?’
‘It was during their breeding season.’
‘That must have been exciting.’
‘Did you talk with Salmissra at all when you went through Sthiss Tor?’
‘Briefly. There was a lot of turmoil in Sthiss Tor when I passed through there. Somebody’d just butchered all the high-level palace eunuchs.’
I laughed delightedly. ‘Good girl!’ I said.
‘What are you talking about, Belgarath?’
‘This particular Salmissra’s actually got a mind. She made the mistake of letting the palace eunuchs find out about it, though. They were planning to assassinate her, and I suggested a way for her to remove that particular danger. Did she get them all?’
‘From what I heard, she did.’
‘That’s probably why it took her so long. She’s a very thorough young lady, now. What’s Torak doing at Ashaba? Salmissra told me that he’d gone there.’
‘From what I hear, he’s having religious experiences. He’s been caught up in a kind of ecstasy for the past ten years or so. He’s babbling all sorts of obscure pronouncements. Urvon’s got a team of Grolims at Ashaba taking down every word. They’re calling those ravings “the Ashabine Oracles”. In fact, there’s been an outbreak of lunacy lately. Bull-neck’s got a crazy man chained to a post a few miles to the west of Boktor, with scribes copying down the poor fellow’s every word.’
‘Good. I told him to do that. Just before the Master left, he told me that we were going to be getting our instructions from prophecy now instead of receiving them directly. This is the Age of Prophecy.’
‘You sound like a Dal when you talk about ages that way.’
‘Evidently the Dals know something we don’t. I think we’ll need a copy of that transcription Dras is having set down, and we’d better pass the word to the other kingdoms to start paying attention to crazy people.’ I paused. ‘How are the girls?’ I asked, trying to make it sound casual.
‘Older. You’ve been gone for quite a while.’
‘They must be about ten years old by now.’
‘Thirteen, actually. Their birthday was just this past winter.’
‘It’ll be good to see them again.’
‘Don’t get your heart set on a warm reunion, Belgarath. Beldaran might be happy to see you, but you’re not one of Polgara’s favorite people.’
That turned out to be a gross understatement.
Beldin and I traveled out of Maragor and crossed the Tolnedran mountains to the Vale. We didn’t particularly hurry. My grotesque little brother’s observations about Polgara had made me slightly apprehensive about meeting her – fully justified, as it turned out.
I’d missed the serenity of the Vale during those vagabond years, and a profound sense of peace came over me as we came down out of the mountains and looked once more upon our home. The painful memories were still there, of course, but the passage of time had muted and softened them, although every so often I’d see something that twisted inside me like a knife.
My daughters had moved in with the twins during Beldin’s absence. The promise Beldaran had exhibited when she was a baby had been more than fulfilled. Though she was only thirteen, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair was the color of flax, and it was full and very long. Her face could quite literally stop your heart, and she was as graceful as a gazelle.
‘Father!’ she exclaimed when I reached the top of the stairs. Her voice was rich and vibrant, the kind of voice that makes you hold your breath to listen. She flew across the floor and threw herself into my arms. I cursed that wasted twelve years when she did that, and all of my love for her came back, almost overwhelming me. We stood locked in an embrace with tears streaming down our faces.
‘Well, old wolf,’ another voice said acidly, ‘I see you’ve finally decided to come back to the scene of the crime.’
I winced. Then I sighed, took my arms from around Beldaran’s slender shoulders, and turned to face Polgara.
Beldaran was probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but Polgara, to put it kindly, was no prize. Her dark hair was a tangled wreck with twigs and leaves snarled in it. She was tall and skinny and quite nearly as dirty as Beldin. She had knobby knees – usually skinned up – and her dirty fingernails were ragged and chewed off close. It took her years to train herself not to bite her nails. The white lock at her brow was scarcely visible, since her hair was absolutely filthy. I got the strong impression that it was all quite deliberate. Polgara’s got very good eyes, and I’m certain that she could see that she was no match for her sister when it came to sheer physical beauty. For some obscure reason, she seemed to be going out of her way to make herself as ugly as she possibly could. She was succeeding admirably.
Yes, I know. We’ll get to her transformation all in good time. Don’t rush me.
It wasn’t her physical appearance that made our reunion so unpleasant, though. Beldin had raised Polgara and Beldaran. Somehow my younger daughter had avoided picking up his speech-patterns, but Polgara hadn’t. She had them all – with bells on.
‘It’s good to see you again, Polgara,’ I greeted her, trying to sound as if I meant it.
‘Really? Why don’t we see if we can fix that? Did they stop making beer in Camaar? Is that why you left?’
I sighed. This promised to be moderately ugly. ‘Do you suppose we should kiss each other before we get into all that?’ I suggested.
‘It’s not going to pay you to get that close to me, old man. I didn’t like you when I first saw you, and you haven’t done anything lately to change my opinion.’
‘That’s all over now.’
‘Of course it is – right up until the moment you get a sniff of beer or see a passing skirt.’
‘Have you been telling tales?’ I asked Beldin.
‘Not me,’ he replied. ‘Pol has her own ways to keep track of what you’ve been up to.’
‘Shut up, uncle,’ she snapped at him. ‘This drunken fool doesn’t need to know about that.’
‘You’re wrong, Pol,’ I told her. ‘This drunken fool does need to know about it. If you’re gifted, you’re going to need training.’
‘Not from you, father. I don’t need anything from you. Why don’t you go back to Camaar? Or the Wood of the Dryads? It’s almost mating season there again. Beldaran and I’d just adore having a horde of half-human baby sisters.’
‘Watch your