‘Listen very carefully, Polgara,’ mother’s voice said then. ‘This is the most important event in the history of the west. Beldaran’s the center of human attention, but the Gods are watching you.’
‘Me? What on earth for, mother?’
‘At the exact moment that Beldaran and Riva are declared man and wife, you’ll have to make a decision. The Gods have chosen you to be the instrument of their will, but you have to accept that.’
‘Accept what?’
‘A task, Polgara, and you must accept it or reject it right here and now.’
‘What kind of task?’
‘If you accept, you’ll be the guardian and protector of the line which descends from Beldaran and Riva.’
‘I’m not a soldier, mother.’
‘You’re not expected to be, Polgara. You won’t need a sword for this task. Consider your decision carefully, my daughter. When the task presents itself to you, you’ll recognize it immediately; and if you take it up, it’ll consume the rest of your life.’
Then the Rivan Deacon finally arrived at his long-delayed climax.
Above me I heard the ghostly flutter of soft wings just over my head, and I glanced upward. Mother, all snowy white, hovered in the still air, her huge golden eyes intent. Then she curved away from me and flew on soft wings to the rear of the hall to perch on one of the rafters.
Then, as the Rivan Deacon pronounced the words that forever took my sister away from me, mother said, ‘Do you accept, Polgara?’
The formality of her question demanded a formal response so I took the sides of my blue gown in my fingertips, spread the gown slightly, and curtsied my acceptance even as Riva kissed his new bride.
‘Done!’ And Done!’ A strange new voice exulted as Destiny claimed me for its own.
That was the first time I’d come into contact with what father chooses to call ‘Garion’s friend’, and I didn’t fully understand the source of that ‘Done! And Done!’ that rang so exultantly in my mind. It’s probably just as well that I didn’t, since no one is ever fully prepared for that first encounter with the Purpose of the Universe, and my collapsing in a dead faint might have disrupted my sister’s wedding just a bit.
Following the ceremony, the wedding party and the guests all adjourned to the large banquet hall just down the corridor for the traditional wedding feast. Once we were settled on the benches at the groaning table where meat and fowl and all manner of delicacies awaited our attention, King Cherek Bear-shoulders rose to his feet. ‘My Lords and Ladies,’ he said, lifting his brimming ale-tankard, ‘I propose a toast to the bride and groom.’
The assembled Alorns gravely and soberly rose to their feet, raised their tankards, and intoned, ‘The bride and groom!’ in unison.
I thought that was rather nice.
Then Dras Bull-neck proposed a toast to his father.
Then Algar Fleet-foot proposed a toast to his brother Dras, and Bull-neck responded by toasting his brother Algar.
The gravity of that Alorn assemblage was rapidly fading, and the sobriety faded right along with it. Just about everyone at the table seemed to feel obliged to honor somebody with a toast, and it was a very long table. As I recall, they never did get completely around it.
‘This is disgusting,’ I muttered to uncle Beldin, who was sitting beside me.
Beldin, who was uncharacteristically clean – largely at Beldaran’s insistence – put on a look of pious innocence. ‘Surely you can’t object to the desire to honor those we love and respect, Pol,’ he said. ‘Excuse me a moment,’ he added. Then he stood up. ‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ he thundered, ‘I give you the Lady Polgara!’
‘Lady Polgara!’ They roared in unison, and they all drank deeply to me.
At some point about midway through the banquet, Beldaran and Riva slipped away. The party grew progressively rowdier, and uncle Beldin was drinking everything in sight.
I endured it for as long as I could, but then a bearded Alorn at the far end of the table rose unsteadily to his feet, spilled half his ale over the lady who sat beside him, and lifted his tankard. He belched. ‘Par’n me,’ he said absently. ‘Ladies an’ Gentleman, I give you my dog, Bowser!’
To Bowser!’ they all shouted enthusiastically, and then they drank.
That did it! I stood up.
To whom did you want to drink, Pol?’ Beldin asked, his eyes unfocused and his speech slurred.
I know I shouldn’t have done it, and I apologized profusely the next morning, but I was just a little irritated at that point. ‘Why to you, of course, uncle dear,’ I replied sweetly. ‘My Lords and Ladies,’ I announced, ‘I give you my dear, dear uncle Beldin.’
And then I poured a tankard of ale on his head and stormed out of the banquet hall, followed by the rest of the ladies.
Alorns have an enormous capacity for strong ale, so their celebration lasted for three days.
I chose not to attend.
On the morning of the fourth day after the wedding, father stopped by my rooms. We chatted for a while, and then Cherek Bear-shoulders was admitted. Cherek looked decidedly unwell, but he seemed to be more or less sober. ‘I was talking with Dras and Algar this morning,’ he said, ‘and Algar thought we might want to get together to exchange some information. We don’t have much chance to meet and talk very often, and there’s a lot going on in the world.’
‘Probably not a bad idea,’ father agreed. ‘Why don’t you go get Riva, and I’ll see if I can locate Beldin.’ He squinted at me. ‘Why don’t you join us as well, Pol?’ he suggested.
‘What on earth for?’
‘For my peace of mind, daughter dear,’ he said somewhat pointedly.
‘It shall be as my father commands,’ I replied with feigned obedience.
‘She has beautiful manners, doesn’t she?’ Cherek noted.
‘Don’t make such hasty judgments, Cherek,’ father warned him.
And so it was that I sat in on the first sessions of what came to be known as ‘the Alorn Council’. At the outset I only sat in the background and listened. The main topic of discussion was the presence of Angaraks on this side of the Sea of the East, and I didn’t really know very much about Angaraks.
I’d been a bit apprehensive about being in such close proximity to Dras and Algar, fearing that one – or both – might seize this opportunity to press unwelcome suits. That was when I discovered that kings probably don’t make very good husbands, since when politics rears its head, a king becomes all business. Dras and Algar had obviously stopped thinking of me as a woman. For them I was simply another council member.
My isolated childhood had not prepared me for the concept of racial differences, and I’m not talking here about purely physical differences. Alorns tend to be tall and blond, while Tolnedrans tend to be short and dark. All other differences