Belgarath the Sorcerer

The gates of Sulturn were unguarded. Sendars tend to be a little relaxed about security measures, so we were able to leave town unnoticed. We were well out of town on the road toward Lake Medalia before a sudden column of flame announced that my baby fire had finally reached adulthood and broken through the roof of Darion’s house.

As I said earlier, it was mid-autumn, and it was a cloudy, blustery night as I drove the cart north toward Medalia and on beyond that to Darine, where we’d be able to take a ship for Kotu in Drasnia.

There’s another repetition for you, Garion. Remember the night when we left Faldor’s farm? Except for the turnips, this trip was almost identical.

It took us perhaps two weeks to reach Darine, largely because we stayed off the main roads, and because I didn’t particularly hurry. I’d learned that from my Master. If you want to stay inconspicuous, don’t make any quick moves. He’d used that disguise many times, and I doubt that anyone had ever remembered him for more than ten minutes after he’d passed.

When we reached Darine, Darion sold the horse and cart, and we took passage on a Sendarian merchantman bound for Kotu.

There weren’t any Murgos in Drasnia, but trade along the North Caravan Route had resumed - once the Nadraks recovered from their disastrous adventure on the frontier during the twenty-fifth century - so there were occasional Nadrak merchants in Kotu. Nadraks didn’t concern me as much as Murgos did, but I was still rather cautious. Darion objected when I set him up in business as a wood-carver instead of a cabinet-maker until I explained it to him. ‘If you can make furniture, you can certainly carve wood, Darion,’ I told him. ‘That fellow we evaded back in Sulturn is very likely to tell all his friends everything he found out about you, so a lot of unfriendly eyes are going to be investigating every cabinet shop in the western kingdoms. For your safety, your wife’s, and your Aunt Pol’s, it’s time for you to go into another line of work.’

‘I suppose you’re right, Ancient One,’ he agreed glumly.

‘Look on the bright side, Darion,’ I told him. ‘You can sell good wood-carvings for almost as much as furniture, and you don’t have to buy as much lumber.’

I’d also changed their names and bullied Polgara into putting some dye on that conspicuous lock in her hair, although it didn’t really work that well.

Then I decided that it was time for me to leave Kotu. I can’t even whittle, so my presence in a wood-carver’s shop might have been a little hard to explain. I said good bye and sailed back to Darine. I went on to Muros and sat out the winter there before venturing into Ulgoland. I still wanted to meet the new Gorim, but not so much that I was willing to break my way through twelve-foot snowdrifts for the pleasure of his company.

I avoided the assorted monsters in Ulgoland the following spring by the usual expedient of going wolf. I suppose I could have gone falcon and flown instead, but there was no particular hurry, and I’m more comfortable as a wolf.

When I reached the ruins of Prolgu - although Prolgu isn’t really ruined, only abandoned - I went to one particular house, announced my presence, and the Ulgos took me down into their dimly lighted caves and to the house of their new Gorim. The traditional home of the Gorim of Ulgo lies in a gloomy cavern. It’s an oddly truncated, pyramid-shaped house on a small eyot in the center of a shallow lake where small trickles of water fall down from above, echoing through that great cavern with the melancholy sound of eternal regret. I think the regret may be that of UL Himself. The Ulgos have lived in the dark for so long that daylight frightens them and the sun is an agony to their eyes. That island with its marble columns and pale, sunless shore seems more appropriate for a gathering of ghosts than for humans. Add to that the fact that the perpetual echoes in those caves makes it necessary for Ulgos to speak very softly. It makes a visit to Ulgoland much like a vacation in a mausoleum.

I liked the new Gorim, though. He was a gentle, saintly man, and he and I got on well together. As it turned out, however, I wasn’t the only visitor in Prolgu just then. A fellow named Horban, a member of the Tolnedran diplomatic corps, had arrived a bit earlier. The Second Horbite Dynasty was in power in Tol Honeth, and the persistent rumors that Ulgoland actually had people living in it as well as the monsters had piqued the curiosity of Ran Horb XVI, and he’d sent his cousin Horban to investigate and to explore the possible opportunities for trade. You know how Tolnedrans are.

‘He’s woefully uneducated, Belgarath,’ Gorim told me. ‘He has absolutely no sense of what’s really happening in the world. Would you believe that he didn’t even know of the existence of UL when he got here?’

‘The Tolnedrans are a worldly people, Holy Gorim,’ I explained. ‘Their Nedra’s the most secular of all the Gods.’

The Gorim sighed. ‘Truly,’ he agreed. ‘What should we do with this man, Belgarath? All he can talk about is exchanging useless trinkets. He calls it “trade” and it seems to be a part of his religion.’

I laughed. ‘I suppose you might as well humor him, Gorim. You’ll never get any peace if you don’t. Let the Tolnedrans come to that valley at the foot of your mountain, and then have your people go down there once in a while and exchange a few trinkets with them. If I’m reading the prophecies right, the time’s going to come when we’ll all be fighting Angaraks. The Tolnedran legions are going to be involved, so we’d better let them get used to the idea that you’re here. The discovery of an untapped market might distract them.’

‘Oh,’ he said then, ‘before I forget, I have a message for you.’

‘A message?’

‘From the Seers of Kell.’ He smiled a bit wryly. ‘We’d thought that all connection with our Dallish cousins had been severed long ago, but the Dals aren’t like other people. Eons have passed since our last contacts, but they reminded us that we’re still kinsmen.’

‘Are you saying that one of the Seers actually came here to Prolgu? Kell’s half a world away.’

He shook his head. ‘It was an illusion, Ancient One. The Seers have abilities we cannot even comprehend. I woke up one morning to find a blindfolded man sitting at my table with a huge mute hovering behind him. The blindfolded man told me to advise you that the unification of Mallorea’s nearly complete. The emperors are Angaraks, and their throne’s in Mal Zeth, but the continent’s largely ruled by the bureaucracy in Melcene. Even the Dals are being gathered into the affairs of the Mallorean Empire. The Seer told me to warn you that the time’s coming closer when Torak will come out of his seclusion to resume his old authority.’

I nodded. ‘We’d more or less worked that out for ourselves. It’s good to have some confirmation, though. We were baffled when Torak didn’t invade right after the assassination of the Rivan King, but the One-eyed God evidently thinks long range. He’s been biding his time at Ashaba, letting the Angarak emperors consolidate their hold on Mallorea. As soon as that’s complete, he’ll take command and mount an invasion.’

‘Are you making preparations?’

‘My friend, I’ve been making preparations for Torak since the day he cracked the world. I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve for him.’

‘The Seer also told me to warn you that Ctuchik’s left Rak Cthol. What can he possibly be up to?’

‘He’s looking for Polgara. He’s had his Murgos out scouring the west in search of her for centuries. Apparently the old hound’s going to give it a try himself. You know what she’s doing, don’t you?’

He nodded. ‘UL keeps me advised.’

‘I rather thought he might.’ I frowned. ‘Why are we suddenly getting all this help from the Dals? They’ve maintained a position of strict neutrality since the beginning of time.’

‘We must assume that it’s in furtherance of their task. In some way, they’re going to be involved in the final EVENT.’

I nodded glumly. ‘That’s all I need - somebody else to muddy the waters. They’re muddy enough as it is.’

I stayed in Prolgu for about a month, and then I went on over to Arendia to look in on several families I’d been watching for centuries. Prophecy being what it is, I probably didn’t need to bother, but I always like to keep an eye on things. Even the best machine breaks down once in a while, and I’m the only mechanic around who knows how to fix this one.

Following the destruction of Vo Astur, the Mimbrate Duke had proclaimed himself King of all Arendia, but proclamations have very little to do with reality. The Mimbrate ‘royalty’ were little more than puppet kings, their foreign policy dictated from Tol Honeth, and their highways patrolled by Tolnedran legionnaires. They had very little time to brood about that, however. Although the Asturian cities and towns had been destroyed, the Asturian nobility and yeomanry remained intact - although greatly diminished. They simply retreated into their forests and took up archery for fun and profit. They shot at trees; they shot at deer; mostly they shot at Mimbrate tax-collectors. They ate the deer, but they just let the Mimbrates lie where they fell. As you might expect, the Wildantor family participated enthusiastically.