‘Why does he laugh when he looks at you, then?’
‘Because I’m a very funny fellow, I suppose. Hadn’t you ever noticed that?’
She glowered at me, but I hadn’t left her any openings. It was one of the few times I ever managed to out-maneuver her. I’m rather proud of it, actually. ‘I’m going to watch you very closely, old man,’ she warned.
‘Feel free, Pol. Maybe if I do something funny enough, I’ll even be able to get a smile out of you.’ Then I patted her fondly on the cheek and went off down the hall, whistling a little tune.
Pol and I left the Isle a few weeks later. Anrak sailed us across the Sea of the Winds to that deeply indented bay that lies just to the west of Lake Sendar, and we landed at the head of the bay where the City of Sendar itself now stands. There wasn’t a city there at the time, though, just that gloomy forest that covered all of northern Sendaria until about the middle of the fourth millennium.
‘That’s not very promising-looking country, Belgarath,’ Anrak told me as Pol and I prepared to disembark. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me sail you on around to Darine?’
‘No, this is fine, Anrak. Let’s not risk the Cherek Bore if we don’t have to.’
‘It’s not all that bad, Belgarath – or so they tell me.’
‘You’re wrong, Anrak,’ I said quite firmly. ‘It is that bad. The Great Maelstrom in the middle of it swallows whole fleets just for breakfast. I’d rather walk.’
‘Cherek war-boats go through it all the time, Belgarath.’
‘This isn’t a Cherek war-boat, and you aren’t crazy enough to be a Cherek. We’ll walk.’
And so Anrak beached his ship, and Pol and I got off. I wonder when the practice of beaching ships fell into disuse. Sailors used to do it all the time. Now they stand off a ways and send passengers ashore in longboats. It’s probably a Tolnedran innovation. Tolnedran sea-captains tend to be a bit on the timid side.
My daughter and I stood on that sandy beach watching Anrak’s sailors straining to get his ship back out into the water. When she was finally afloat again, they poled her out a ways, raised the sails, and went off down the bay.
‘What now, father?’ Pol asked me.
I squinted up at the sun. ‘It’s mid-afternoon,’ I told her. ‘Let’s set up a camp and get an early start in the morning.’
‘Are you sure you know the way to Darine?’
‘Of course I am.’ I wasn’t, actually. I’d never been there before, but I had a general idea of where it was. Over the years, I’ve found that it’s usually best to pretend that I know what I’m doing and where I’m going. It heads off a lot of arguments in the long run.
We went back from the beach a ways and set up camp in a rather pleasant forest clearing. I offered to do the cooking, but Pol wouldn’t hear of it. I even made a few suggestions about cooking over an open campfire, but she tartly told me to mind my own business and she did it her own way. Actually, supper didn’t turn out too bad.
We traveled northeasterly through that ancient forest for the next couple of days. The region was unpopulated, so there weren’t any paths. I kept our general direction firmly in mind and simply followed the course of least resistance. I’ve spent a lot of time in the woods over the years, and I’ve found that to be about the best way to go through them. There’s a certain amount of meandering involved, but it gets you to where you’re going – eventually.
Polgara, however, didn’t like it. ‘How far have we come today?’ she asked me on the evening of the second day.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I replied, ‘probably six or eight leagues.’
‘I meant in a straight line.’
‘You don’t follow straight lines in the woods, Pol. The trees get in the way.’
‘There is a faster way to do this, father.’
‘Were you in a hurry?’
‘I’m not enjoying this, old man.’ She looked around at the huge, mossy trees with distaste. ‘It’s damp, it’s dirty, and there are bugs. I haven’t had a bath for four days.’
‘You don’t have to bathe when you’re in the woods, Pol. The squirrels don’t mind if your face is dirty.’
‘Are we going to argue about this?’
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Why walk when we can fly?’
I stared at her. ‘How did you know about that?’ I demanded.
‘Uncle Beldin does it all the time. You’re supposed to be educating me, father. This seems to be a perfect time for me to learn how to change my form into one that’s more useful. You can suit yourself, of course, but I’m not going to plod through this gloomy forest all the way to Darine just so you can look at the scenery.’ Pol can turn the slightest thing into an ultimatum. It’s her one great failing.
There was a certain logic to what she was saying, however. Wandering around in the woods is enjoyable, but there were other things I wanted to do, and the art of changing form is one of the more useful ones. I wasn’t entirely positive that her talent was that far along yet, though, so I was a little dubious about the whole idea. ‘We’ll try it,’ I finally gave in. It was easier than arguing with her.
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘Why not now?’
‘Because it’s getting dark. I don’t want you flying into a tree and breaking your beak.’
‘Whatever you say, father.’ Her submissive tone was fraudulent, naturally. She’d won the argument, so now she could afford to be gracious about it.
She was up the next morning before it got light, and she’d crammed my breakfast into me before the sun came up. ‘Now, then,’ she said, ‘let’s get started.’ She really wanted to try this.
I described the procedure to her at some length, carefully going over all the details while her look of impatience grew more and more pronounced.
‘Oh, let’s get on with it, father,’ she said finally.
‘All right, Pol,’ I surrendered. ‘I suppose you can always change back if you turn yourself into a flying rabbit.’
She looked a little startled at that.
‘Details, Polgara,’ I told her. ‘This is one case when you really have to pay attention to details. Feathers aren’t that easy, you now. All right. Don’t rush. Take it slowly.’
And, of course, she ignored me. Her eyebrows sank into a scowl of intense concentration. Then she shimmered and blurred – and became a snowy white owl.
My eyes filled with tears immediately, and I choked back a sob. ‘Change back!’
She looked a little startled when she resumed her own form.
‘Don’t ever do that again!’ I commanded.
‘What’s wrong, father?’
‘Any shape but that one.’
‘What’s wrong with that one? Uncle Beldin says that mother used to do it all the time.’
‘Exactly. Pick another shape.’
‘Are you crying, father?’ she asked with a certain surprise.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.’
‘I