Belgarath the Sorcerer
Page 10In time, the twins taught him to speak a normal language that didn’t involve so much spitting and snarling, and we learned his history. My distaste for Torak dates from that point in time. It may not have been entirely Torak’s fault, however. I’ve learned over the years that the views of any priesthood are not necessarily the views of the Gods they serve. I’ll give Torak the benefit of the doubt in this case - the practice of human sacrifice might have been no more than a perversion of his Grolim priests. But he did nothing to put a stop to it, and that’s unforgivable.
To cut all this windy moralizing short, Belsambar’s parents - both of them - had been sacrificed, and Belsambar had been required to watch as a demonstration of his faith. It didn’t really work out that way, though. Grolims can be so stupid sometimes. Anyway, at the tender age of nine, Belsambar became an atheist, rejecting not only Torak and his stinking Grolims, but all Gods.
That was when our Master summoned him. In his particular case, the summoning must have been a bit more spectacular than the vague urge that turned my face toward the Vale. Belsambar was clearly in a state of religious ecstasy when he reached us. Of course he was an Angarak, and they’re always a little strange in matters of religion.
It was Belmakor who first raised the notion of building our own towers. He was a Melcene, after all, and they’re obsessed with building things. I’ll admit that our Master’s tower was starting to get a bit crowded, though.
The construction of those towers took us several decades, as I recall. It was actually more in the nature of a hobby than it was a matter of any urgency. We did use what you might call our advantages in the construction, of course, but squaring off rocks is a tedious business, even if you don’t have to use a chisel. We did manage to clear away a lot of rock, though, and building material got progressively scarcer as the years rolled by.
I think it was late summer one year when I decided that it was time to finish up my tower so that I wouldn’t have it hanging over my head nagging at me. Besides, Belmakor’s tower was almost finished, and I was first disciple, after all. I didn’t think it would really be proper for me to let him outstrip me. We sometimes do things for the most childish of reasons, don’t we?
Since my brothers and I had virtually denuded the Vale of rocks, I went up to the edge of the forest lying to the north in search of building materials. I was poking around among the trees looking for a stream-bed or an outcropping of stone when I suddenly felt a baleful stare boring into the back of my neck. That’s an uncomfortable feeling that’s always irritated me for some reason. ‘You might as well come out,’ I said. ‘I know you’re there.’
‘Don’t try anything,’ an awful voice growled at me from a nearby thicket. ‘I’ll rip you to pieces if you do.’
Now that’s what I call an unpromising start. ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ I replied. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’
That evoked the ugliest laugh I’ve ever heard. ‘You?’ the voice said scornfully, ‘You? Hurt me?’ And then the bushes parted and the most hideous creature I’ve ever seen emerged. He was grotesquely deformed with a huge hump on his back, gnarled, dwarfed legs, and long, twisted arms. This combination made it possible - even convenient - for him to go on all fours like a gorilla. His face was monumentally ugly, his hair and beard were matted, he was unbelievably filthy, and he was partially dressed in a ratty-looking fur of some kind. ‘Enjoying the view?’ he demanded harshly. ‘You’re not so pretty yourself, you know.’
‘You startled me, that’s all,’ I replied, trying to be civil.
‘Have you seen an old man in a rickety, broken-down cart around here anywhere?’ the creature demanded. ‘He told me he’d meet me here.’
I stared at him in absolute astonishment.
All sorts of things clicked into place. ‘This old man you’re looking for,’ I said. ‘Did he have a humorous way of talking?’
‘That’s him,’ the dwarf said. ‘Have you seen him?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I replied with a broad grin. ‘I’ve known him for longer than you could possibly imagine. Come along, my ugly little friend. I’ll take you to him.’
‘Don’t be too quick to throw the word “friend” around,’ he growled. ‘I don’t have any friends, and I like it that way.’
‘You’ll get over that in a few hundred years,’ I replied, still grinning at the little monster.
‘You don’t sound quite right in the head to me.’
‘You’ll get used to that, too. Come along. I’ll introduce you to your Master.’
‘I don’t have a master.’
‘I wouldn’t make any large wagers on that.’
And that was our introduction to Din. My brothers thought at first that I’d come across a tame ape. Din rather quickly disabused them of that notion. He had by far the foulest mouth I’ve ever come across, even when he was not trying to be insulting, and I honestly believe he could swear for a day and a half without once repeating himself. He was even ungracious to our Master. His very first words to him were, ‘What did you do with that stupid cart of yours? I tried to follow the tracks, but they just disappeared on me.’
Aldur, with that inhuman patience of his, simply smiled. Would you believe that he actually liked the foul-mouthed little monster? ‘Is that what took thee so long?’ he asked mildly.
‘Of course that’s what took me so long!’ Din exploded. ‘You didn’t leave me a trail to follow! I had to reason out your location!’ Din had turned losing his temper into an art-form. The slightest thing could set him off. ‘Well?’ he said then, ‘now what?’
‘What does somebody like me need with an education? I already know what I need to know.’
Aldur gave him a long, steady look, and even Din couldn’t face that for long. Then our Master looked around at the rest of us. He obviously dismissed Beltira and Belkira out of hand. They hadn’t the proper temperament to deal with our newest recruit. Belzedar was in a state verging on inarticulate rage. Belzedar may have had his faults, but he wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect for our Master. Belmakor was too fastidious. Din was filthy, and he smelled like an open sewer. Belsambar, for obvious reasons, was totally out of the question. Guess who that left.
I wearily raised my hand. ‘Don’t trouble thyself, Master,’ I said. ‘I’ll take care of it.’
‘Why, Belgarath,’ he said, ‘how gracious of thee to volunteer thy service.’
I chose not to answer that.
‘Ah, Belgarath?’ Belmakor said tentatively.
‘What?’
‘Could you possibly wash him off before you bring him inside again?’
Despite my show of reluctance, I wasn’t quite as displeased with the arrangement as I pretended to be. I still wanted to finish my tower, and this powerful dwarf seemed well-suited to the task of carrying rocks. If things worked out the way I thought they might, I wouldn’t have to strain my creativity in the slightest to find things for my ugly little servant to do.
I took him outside and showed him my half-finished tower. ‘You understand the situation here?’ I asked him.
‘I’m supposed to do what you tell me to do.’
‘Exactly.’ This was going to work out just fine. ‘Now, let’s go back to the edge of the woods. I’ve got a little chore for you.’
‘Naturally I can see them, you dolt! I’m not blind!’
‘I’m so happy for you. I’d like for you to pile them all beside my tower - neatly, of course.’ I sat down under a shady tree. ‘Be a good fellow and see to it, would you?’ I was actually enjoying this.
He glowered at me for a moment and then turned to glare at the rocky stream-bed.
Then, one by one, the rocks began to vanish! I could actually feel him doing it! Would you believe it? Din already knew the secret! It was the first case of spontaneous sorcery I’d ever seen. ‘Now what?’ he demanded.
‘How did you learn to do that?’ I demanded incredulously.
He shrugged. ‘Picked it up somewhere,’ he replied. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you can’t?’
‘Of course I can, but -’ I got hold of myself at that point. ‘Are you sure you translocated them to the right spot?’
‘You wanted them piled up beside your tower, didn’t you? Go look, if you want. I know where they are. Was there anything else you wanted me to do here?’
‘Let’s go back,’ I told him shortly.
It took me a while to regain my composure. We were about half-way back before I could trust myself to start asking questions. ‘Where are you from?’ It was banal, but it was a place to start.
‘Originally, you mean? That’s sort of hard to say. I move around a lot. I’m not very welcome in most places. I’m used to it, though. It’s been going on since the day I was born.’