Belgarath the Sorcerer

Beldin and I went looking for the then-current Queen Salmissra so that we could offer to mediate a withdrawal of the Marags. We finally found her in a house deep in the jungles, a house almost identical to her palace in Sthiss Tor. She’s probably got those houses scattered all over Nyissa.

We presented ourselves to her eunuchs, and they took us to her throne room, where she lounged, admiring her reflection in a mirror. Salmissra - like all the other Salmissras - absolutely adored herself.

‘I think you’ve got a problem, your Majesty,’ I told her bluntly when Beldin and I were ushered into her presence. ‘Do you want my brother and me to try to end this war?’

The snake-woman didn’t seem to be particularly interested. ‘Do not expend thine energy, Ancient Belgarath,’ she yawned. All of the Salmissras have been virtually identical to the first one. They’re selected because of their resemblance to her and trained from early childhood to have that same chill, indifferent personality. Actually it makes them easier to deal with. Salmissra - any one of the hundred or so who’ve worn the name - is always the same person, so you don’t have to adjust your thinking.

Beldin, however, managed to get her attention. ‘All right,’ he told her with an indifference that matched her own, ‘it’s the dry season. Belgarath and I’ll set fire to your stinking jungles. We’ll burn Nyissa to the ground. Then the Marags will have to go home.’

That was the only time I’ve ever seen any of the Salmissras display any emotion other than sheer animal lust. Her pale eyes widened, and her chalk-white skin turned even whiter. ‘Thou wouldst not!’ she exclaimed.

Beldin shrugged. ‘Why not? It’ll put an end to this war, and if we get rid of all the assorted narcotics, maybe your people can learn to do something productive. Don’t toy with me, Snake-Woman, you’ll find that I play rough. Let the Marags go home, or I’ll burn Nyissa from the mountains to the sea. There won’t be a berry or a leaf left - not even the ones that sustain you. You’ll get old almost immediately, Salmissra, and all those pretty boys you’re so fond of will lose interest in you almost as fast.’

She glared at him, and then her colorless eyes began to smolder. ‘You interest me, ugly one,’ she told him. ‘I’ve never coupled with an ape before.’

‘Forget it,’ he snarled. ‘I like my women fat and hot-blooded. You’re too cold for me, Salmissra.’ That was my brother for you. He was never one to beat around the bush. ‘Do we agree then?’ he pressed. ‘If you let the Marags go home, I won’t burn your stinking swamp.’

‘The time will come when you’ll regret this, Disciple of Aldur.’

‘Ah, me little sweetie,’ he replied in that outrageous Wacite brogue. ‘I’ve regretted many things in me long, long life, don’t y’ know, but I’ll be after tellin’ y’ one thing, darlin’. Matin’ with a snake ain’t likely t’ be one of ’em.’ Then his face hardened. ‘This is the last time I’m going to ask you, Salmissra. Are you going to let the Marags go, or am I going to start lighting torches?’

And that more or less ended the war.

‘You were moderately effective there, old boy,’ I complimented my brother as we left Salmissra’s jungle hideout. ‘I thought her eyes were going to pop out when you offered to burn her jungle.’

‘It got her attention.’ Then he sighed. ‘It might have been very interesting,’ he said rather wistfully.

‘What might have?’

‘Never mind.’

We nursed the limping Marag column back to their own borders, leaving thousands of dead behind us in those reeking swamps, and then Beldin and I returned to the Vale.

When we got there, our Master sent me back to Aloria. ‘The Queen of the Alorns is with child,’ he told me. ‘The one for whom we have waited is about to be born. I would have thee present at this birth and at diverse other times during his youth.’

‘Are we sure he’s the right one, Master?’ I asked him.

He nodded. ‘The signs are all present. Thou wilt know him when first thou seest him. Go thou to Val Alorn, therefore. Verify his identity and then return.’

And that’s how I came to be present when Cherek Bear-shoulders was born. When one of the midwives brought the red-faced, squalling infant out of the queen’s bedroom, I knew immediately that my Master had been right. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just did. Cherek and I had been linked since the beginning of time, and I recognized him the moment I laid eyes on him. I congratulated his father and then went back to the Vale to report to my Master, and, I hoped, to spend some time with my wife.

I went back to Aloria a number of times during Cherek’s boyhood, and we got to know each other quite well. By the time he was ten, he was as big as a full-grown man, and he kept on growing. He was over seven feet tall when he ascended the throne of Aloria at the age of nineteen. We gave him some time to get accustomed to his crown, and then I went back to Val Alorn and arranged a marriage for him. I can’t remember what the girl’s name was, but she did what she was supposed to do. Cherek was about twenty-three when his first son, Dras, was born, and about twenty-five when Algar came along. Riva, his third son, was born when the King of Aloria was twenty-seven. My Master was pleased. Everything was happening the way it was supposed to.

Cherek’s three sons grew as fast as he had. Alorns are large people anyway, but Dras, Algar, and Riva took that tendency to extremes. Walking into a room where Cherek and his sons were was sort of like walking into a grove of trees. The word ‘giant’ is used rather carelessly at times, but it was no exaggeration when it was used to describe those four.

As I’ve suggested several times, my Master had at least some knowledge of the future, but he shared that knowledge only sparingly with us. I knew that Cherek and his sons and I were supposed to do something, but my Master wouldn’t tell me exactly what, reasoning, I suppose, that if I knew too much about it, I might in some way tamper with it and make it come out wrong.

I’d gone to Aloria during the summer when Riva turned eighteen. That was a fairly significant anniversary in a young Alorn’s life back then, because it was on his eighteenth birthday that a description of him was added to his name. Four years previously, Riva’s older brother had become Dras Bull-neck, and two years after that, Algar had been dubbed Algar Fleet-foot. Riva, who had huge hands, became Iron-grip. I honestly believe that he could have crushed rocks into powder in those hands of his.

Poledra had a little surprise for me when I returned to the Vale. ‘One wonders if you have finished with these errands for a time,’ she said when I got home to our tower.

‘One hopes so,’ I replied. We didn’t exactly speak to each other in wolvish when we were alone, but we came close. ‘One’s Master will decide that, however,’ I added.

‘One will speak with the Master,’ she told me. ‘It is proper that you stay here for a time.’

‘Oh?’

‘It is a custom, and customs should be observed.’

‘Which custom is that?’

‘The one which tells us that the sire should be present at the births of his young.’

I stared at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I demanded.

‘I just did. What would you like for supper?’

Chapter 11

Poledra largely ignored her pregnancy. ‘It’s a natural process,’ she told me with a shrug. ‘There’s nothing very remarkable about it.’ She continued attending to what she felt were her duties even as her waist-line expanded and her movements became increasingly awkward, and nothing I could do or say could persuade her to change her set routine.

Over the centuries, she’d made some significant alterations to my tower. As you may have heard, I’m not the neatest person in the world, but that’s never bothered me very much. A bit of clutter gives a place that lived-in look, don’t you agree? That all changed after Poledra and I were married. There weren’t any interior walls in my tower, largely because I like to be able to look out all of my windows when I’m working. I sort of haphazardly arranged my living space - this area for cooking and eating, that for study, and the one over there for sleeping. It worked out fairly well while I was alone. My location in the various parts of the tower told me what I was supposed to be doing.

Poledra didn’t like it that way. I think she wanted greater definition. She started adding furniture - tables, couches, and brightly colored cushions. She loved bright colors for some reason. The rugs she’d scattered about on the stone floor gave me some trouble. I was forever tripping over them. All in all, though, her little touches made that rather bleak tower room a more homey sort of place, and homeyness seems to be important to females of just about any species. I’d suspect that even female snakes add a few decorations to their dens. I was tolerant of these peculiarities, but one thing drove me absolutely wild. She was forever putting things away - and I usually couldn’t find them afterward. When I’m working on something, I like to keep it right out in plain sight, but no sooner would I lay something down than she’d pick it up and stick it on a shelf. I think putting up those shelves had been a mistake, but she’d insisted, and during the early years of our marriage I’d been more than willing to accommodate her every whim.