The Seeress of Kell

  ‘That’s an idea. It should take you about that long to get it cleaned up – oh, one other thing, Belgarath. Why don’t you fix that loose step?’

  ‘I’ll get around to it.’

  ‘Aren’t we all assuming that we’re going to win?’ Silk said. ‘I think that making plans for the future at this point might be a bit premature – unless the Holy Seeress might see fit to let slip a hint or two about the outcome?’ He looked at Cyradis.

  ‘I would not be permitted to do that, Prince Kheldar – even if I knew the answer.’

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘The choice hath not yet been made,’ she said simply. ‘It may not be made until I stand in the presence of the Child of Light and the Child of Dark. Until that moment, the outcome doth still hang in the balance.’

  ‘What good is it being a Seeress if you can’t predict the future?’

  ‘This particular Event is not susceptible to prediction, Kheldar,’ she said tartly.

  ‘I think we’d all better get some sleep,’ Belgarath said. ‘The next couple of days are going to be hectic.’

  The she-wolf followed Garion and Ce’Nedra to their room and entered with them. Ce’Nedra looked a bit startled at that, but the wolf went directly to the bed and put her forepaws up on it to look critically at the puppy, who lay sleeping on his back with all four of his paws in the air.

  The wolf gave Garion a slightly reproachful look. ‘One notes that he has grown fat,’ she said. ‘Your mate has ruined him with overfeeding and pampering. He is no longer fit to be a wolf. He no longer even smells like a wolf.’

  ‘One’s mate bathes him from time to time,’ Garion explained.

  ‘Bathes,’ the wolf said in a tone loaded with contempt. ‘A wolf should be bathed only by the rain or in the course of swimming across a river.’ She dropped to her haunches. ‘One would ask a favor of your mate.’

  ‘One will convey your request to her.’

  ‘One had hoped you might. Ask your mate if she will continue to care for the young one. One believes you need not add that she has spoiled him so badly that he is unfit to be anything but a lap dog.’

  ‘One will phrase your request cautiously.’

  ‘What’s she saying?’ Ce’Nedra asked.

  ‘She wants to know if you’d be willing to take care of the puppy.’

  ‘Of course I will. I’ve wanted to do that all along.’ Then she knelt and impulsively put her arms about the she-wolf’s neck. ‘I will care for him,’ she promised.

  ‘One notes that her scent is not unpleasant,’ the wolf said to Garion.

  ‘One has also noticed that.’

  ‘One was fairly certain that you had.’ Then the wolf rose to her feet and silently left the room.

  ‘She’s going to leave us now, isn’t she?’ Ce’Nedra said wistfully. ‘I’m going to miss her.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Why else would she give up her baby?’

  ‘I think there’s a bit more to it than that. She’s preparing for something.’

  ‘I’m very tired, Garion. Let’s go to bed.’

  Later, in the velvet darkness as they lay close together in the bed, Ce’Nedra sighed. ‘Two more days and I’ll see my baby again. It’s been so very, very long.’

  ‘Try not to dwell on it, Ce’Nedra. You need your rest, and thinking too much about it will keep you awake.’

  She sighed again, and after a few moments, she drifted off to sleep.

  ‘Cyradis is not the only one who has to make a choice,’ the voice in his mind told him. ‘You and Zandramas also have choices to make.’

  ‘What choices are those?’

  ‘You have to choose your successors. Zandramas has already chosen hers. You should be giving some thought to your last task as the Child of Light. It’s going to be fairly significant.’

  ‘I suppose that in a way, I’ll sort of miss having that to carry around, but I’ll be glad to get rid of it. Now I’ll be able to go back to being ordinary again.’

  ‘You never were ordinary, you know. You’ve been the Child of Light since the moment you were born.’

  ‘I know I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘Please don’t get sentimental, Garion. I may stop by from time to time, just to see how you’re doing. Now get some sleep.’

  When he awoke the next morning, Garion lay in bed for quite some time. He had tried for very long not to think about something, but now he had no choice but to face it squarely. He had every reason in the world to hate Zandramas, but …

  Finally, he slipped out of bed, dressed himself and went looking for Belgarath.

  He found the old man in the central room, seated with Cyradis. ‘Grandfather,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a problem.’

  ‘There’s nothing unusual about that. What’s got you worked up this time?’

  ‘Tomorrow, I’m going to meet Zandramas.’

  ‘Why, do you know? I think you’re right.’

  ‘Please don’t do that. This is serious.’

  ‘Sorry, Garion. I’m feeling whimsical today.’

  ‘I’m afraid that the only way we’re going to be able to stop her is to kill her, and I ‘m not sure I’ll be able to do that. Torak was one thing, but Zandramas is a woman.’

  ‘Well, she was. I think her gender has become irrelevant now, though – even to herself.’

  ‘I still don’t think I’ll be able to do it.’

  ‘There will be no need, Belgarion,’ Cyradis assured him. ‘Another fate doth lie in store for Zandramas, no matter what my choice may be. Thou wilt not be required to shed her blood.’

  A vast wave of relief came over Garion. ‘Thank you, Holy Seeress,’ he said. ‘I’ve been afraid to face up to that. It’s good to know that it’s not one of the tasks I’ve got ahead of me. Oh, by the way, Grandfather, my friend up here—’ He tapped his forehead. ‘– has been visiting again. Last night he told me that my final task will be to choose my successor. I don’t suppose I could get you to help me, could I?’

  ‘No Garion, I’m afraid not. I don’t think I’m supposed to, am I, Cyradis?’

  ‘Nay, Ancient Belgarath. That task lieth on the Child of Light alone.’

  ‘I was afraid you might look at it that way,’ Garion said glumly.

  ‘Oh, one thing, Garion,’ Belgarath said. ‘The one you choose has a fair chance of becoming a God. Don’t choose me. I’m not suited for the job.’

  The others drifted in singly or in pairs. As each one entered, Garion considered their faces, trying to picture each of his friends as a divinity. Aunt Pol? No, that didn’t seem right somehow, and that automatically excluded Durnik. He could not deprive her of her husband. Silk? That idea very nearly caused Garion to collapse in helpless laughter. Zakath? It had some possibilities. Zakath was an Angarak, and the new God would be the God of that race. Zakath was a bit unpredictable, however. Until recently, he had been obsessed with power. A sudden onset of Godhood might unsettle his mind and make him revert. Garion sighed. He’d have to think about it some more.

  The servants brought in breakfast, and Ce’Nedra, obviously remembering her promise of the previous night, fixed a plate for the puppy. The plate contained eggs, sausage, and a generous dollop of jam. The she-wolf looked away with a shudder.

  They deliberately avoided the subject of tomorrow’s meeting as they ate. The meeting was inevitable now, so there was no point in talking about it.

  Belgarath pushed back his plate with a look of contentment on his face. ‘Don’t forget to thank the king for his hospitality,’ he told Garion.

  And then the she-wolf came over and laid her head in the old man’s lap. Belgarath looked startled. The wolf had usually avoided him. ‘What is it, little sister?’ he asked her.

  Then, to everyone’s astonishment, the wolf actually laughed and spoke quite plainly in the language of humans. ‘Your brains have gone to sleep, old wolf,’ she said to Belgarath. ‘I thought you’d have kn
own me weeks ago. Does this help?’ A sudden blue nimbus surrounded her. ‘Or this?’ She shimmered, and then the wolf was gone. Standing in its place was a tawny-haired, golden-eyed woman in a brown dress.

  ‘Mother!’ Aunt Pol exclaimed.

  ‘You’re no more observant than your father, Polgara,’ Poledra said reprovingly. ‘Garion has known for quite some time now.’

  Belgarath, however, was staring in horror at the puppy.

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly, old man,’ his wife told him. ‘You know that we’re mated for life. The puppy was weak and sick, so the pack had to leave him behind. I cared for him, that’s all.’

  The smile on the face of the Seeress of Kell was gentle. ‘This is the Woman Who Watches, Ancient Belgarath,’ she said. ‘Now is thy company complete. Know however, that she is ever with thee, as she has always been.’

  Part Three

  THE HIGH PLACES OF KORIM

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  GARION HAD SEEN his grandmother – or her image – several times, but the similarity of her features to Aunt Pol’s seemed uncanny. There were differences, of course. Aunt Pol’s hair, except for that white lock at her brow, was dark, almost black, and her eyes were a deep, deep blue. Poledra, on the other hand, had tawny hair, hovering nearly on the verge of being as blond as Velvet’s, and her eyes were as golden as the eyes of a wolf. The features of the two women, however, were almost identical, as had been, the one time Garion had seen her image, the features of Aunt Pol’s sister Beldaran. Belgarath, his wife, and his daughter had withdrawn to the far side of the room, and Beldin, his tears glistening through his scowl, had placed himself squarely between them and the others in the room to guard their privacy during their reunion.

  ‘Who is she?’ Zakath asked Garion in puzzlement.

  ‘She’s my Grandmother,’ Garion replied simply. ‘Belgarath’s wife.’

  ‘I didn’t know he had a wife.’

  ‘Where did you think Aunt Pol came from?’

  ‘I guess I hadn’t thought of that.’ Zakath looked around, noting that both Ce’Nedra and Velvet were dabbing at their eyes with wispy little handkerchiefs.

  ‘Why is everyone so misty-eyed?’ he asked.

  ‘We all thought that she had died in childbirth when Aunt Pol and her sister Beldaran were born.’

  ‘And how long ago was that?’

  ‘Aunt Pol is over three thousand years old,’ Garion shrugged.

  Zakath began to tremble. ‘And Belgarath’s been grieving all that time?’

  ‘Yes.’ Garion didn’t really want to talk just then. All he wanted to do was to drink in the radiant faces of his family. The word came to him unbidden, and he suddenly remembered that bleak time after he had first learned that Aunt Pol was not, strictly speaking, his aunt. He had felt then so terribly alone – an orphan in the most dreadful sense of the word. It had taken years, but now everything was all right. His family was nearly complete. Belgarath, Poledra, and Aunt Pol did not speak, for speech was largely unnecessary. Instead they simply sat in chairs drawn closely together gazing into each others’ faces and holding hands. Garion could only faintly begin to understand the intensity of their emotions. He did not, however, feel cut off from them, but rather seemed somehow to share their joy.

  Durnik crossed the room to the rest of them. Even solid, practical Durnik’s eyes shone with unshed tears. ‘Why don’t we leave them alone?’ he suggested. ‘It’s a good time to get the packing done anyway. We have a ship to catch, you know.’

  ‘She said you knew,’ Ce’Nedra said accusingly to Garion when they had returned to their room.

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘She asked me to keep it to myself.’

  ‘That doesn’t apply to your own wife, Garion.’

  ‘It doesn’t?’ he asked in feigned surprise. ‘When did they pass that rule?’

  ‘I just made it up,’ she admitted. ‘Oh, Garion,’ she said then, throwing her arms about his neck and kissing him, ‘I do love you.’

  ‘I certainly hope so. Shall we pack?’

  The corridors of the royal palace here in Perivor were cool as Garion and Ce’Nedra returned to the central room, and the arched embrasures admitted golden morning sunlight as if even the elements were bestowing a benediction on what was, after all, a special, even sacred, day.

  When they had all gathered once again, Belgarath and his wife and daughter had composed themselves enough so that they welcomed company.

  ‘Would you like to have me introduce them, Mother?’ Aunt Pol asked.

  ‘I know all of them, Polgara,’ Poledra replied. ‘I’ve been with you for quite some time, remember?’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I wanted to see if you could figure it out for yourself. You disappointed me just a bit, Polgara.’

  ‘Mother,’ Aunt Pol protested, ‘not in front of the children.’

  They both laughed that same warm, rich laugh. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Polgara said then, ‘this is my mother, Poledra.’

  They crowded around the tawny-haired legend. Silk extravagantly kissed her hand. ‘I suppose, Lady Poledra,’ he said slyly, ‘we should congratulate Belgarath. All things considered, I think you got the worst of that bargain. Your daughter’s been trying to reform him for about three eons now without much notable success.’

  Poledra smiled. ‘One has perhaps greater resources at one’s command than one’s daughter, Prince Kheldar.’ She lapsed, it seemed, unconsciously into her previous mode of speech.

  ‘All right, Poledra,’ Beldin growled, stumping forward, ‘what really happened? After the girls were born, our Master came to us and told us that you were no longer with us. We all thought He meant that you had died. The twins cried for two straight months, and that left me to try to cope with the babies. What really happened?’

  ‘Aldur didn’t lie to you, Beldin,’ she replied calmly. ‘In a very real sense, I was no longer with you. You see, shortly after the girls were born, Aldur and UL came to me. They said they had a great task for me but that it would involve an equally great sacrifice. I would have to leave you all behind to prepare for the task. At first, I refused, but when they explained the task to me, I had no choice but to agree. I turned my back on the Vale and went with UL to Prolgu to receive instruction. From time to time He’d relent and let me go unobserved out into the world to see how my family was doing.’ She looked rather firmly at Belgarath. ‘You and I have much to discuss, Old Wolf,’ she told him.

  Belgarath winced.

  ‘I don’t suppose you could give us some enlightenment about this momentous task?’ Sadi suggested mildly.

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘I didn’t think so,’ the eunuch murmured.

  ‘Eriond,’ Poledra said then, greeting the blond-haired young man.

  ‘Poledra,’ he responded. Eriond, as always, seemed unsurprised by this turn of events. Eriond, Garion had noticed, was never surprised.

  ‘You’ve grown since we last met,’ she noted.

  ‘I suppose I have,’ he agreed.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  The question sent a chill through Garion as he suddenly remembered the strange dream he had had the night before his true identity had been revealed.

  There was a polite knock on the door. Durnik answered it and found an armored knight standing outside. ‘His Majesty hath dispatched me to advise thee and thy companions that thy ship awaiteth thee in the harbor, my Lord,’ the knight said.

  ‘I ’m not a—’ Durnik started.

  ‘Let it lie, Durnik,’ Silk told him. ‘Sir Knight,’ he said to the armored man at the door, ‘where might we find his Majesty? We would take our leave of him and thank him for his many kindnesses.’

  ‘His Majesty doth await thee and thy companions at the harbor, my Lord. He would bid you all farewell there and see you off on the great adventure which doth lie in store for ye.’

  ‘We will make haste then, Sir
Knight,’ the little man promised. ‘It were discourteous of us in the extreme to keep one of the paramount monarchs of the world awaiting our arrival. Thou hast performed thine appointed task in manner which does thee credit, Sir Knight, and we are all in thy debt.’

  The knight bowed, beaming. Then he went back down the hallway.

  ‘Where did you ever learn to speak like that, Kheldar?’ Velvet asked in some surprise.

  ‘Ah, dear Lady,’ Silk replied with outrageous extravagance, ‘knowest thou not that the poet doth lurk beneath the most common exterior? An it please thee, I will deliver unto thee fullsome compliments upon thine every ravishing and unsurpasséd part.’ He eyed her up and down suggestively.

  ‘Kheldar!’ she exclaimed, blushing bright red.

  ‘That’s sort of fun, you know,’ Silk said, referring to the archaic speech – at least Garion hoped that was what he was referring to. ‘Once you learn how to wrap your tongue around the ‘hath’s’, and ‘doth’s’ and ‘foreasmuches’, it has a certain ring and cadence to it, doesn’t it?’

  ‘We’re surrounded by charlatans, mother,’ Polgara sighed.

  ‘Belgarath,’ Durnik said seriously, ‘there’s not much point in taking the horses, is there? What I mean is that we’re going to be clambering over rocks and wading in surf when we get to the reef. Wouldn’t the horses just be in the way?’

  ‘You’re probably right, Durnik,’ the old man agreed.

  ‘I’ll go down to the stables and talk with the grooms,’ the smith said. ‘The rest of you go on ahead. I’ll catch up.’ He turned and left the room.

  ‘An eminently practical man,’ Poledra observed.

  ‘The poet, however, doth lurk beneath that most practical of exteriors, Mother,’ Polgara smiled, ‘and thou wouldst not believe how much pleasure I take in that aspect of him.’

  ‘I think it’s time for us to get off this island, Old Wolf,’ Poledra said wryly. ‘Two more days and they’ll all be sitting around composing bad poetry.’

  Servants arrived then to carry their packs to the harbor, and Garion and his companions trooped through the halls of the palace and out into the streets of Dal Perivor. Although the morning had dawned bright and sunny, a bank of heavy clouds had begun to build up off to the west, heavy, purple clouds that spoke eloquently of the likelihood of bad weather over Korim.