Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress: 2-Book Collection. David Eddings
amusement dripping from it.
– You’re not serious! –
– I have every confidence in you. –
– What am I supposed to do? –
– I’m sure it’ll come to you. –
– Aren’t you going to tell me? –
– Of course not. We have to play by the rules. –
– I need some directions here. If I make it up as I go along, I’m bound to make mistakes. –
– We sort of take those into account. You’ll do just fine. –
– I’m going to kill Zedar. – It was an empty threat, of course. Once I’d gotten past my initial rage, my homicidal instincts had cooled. Zedar had been my brother for over three thousand years, so I wasn’t going to kill him. I might set his beard on fire or tie his entrails into a very complicated knot, but I wouldn’t kill him. In spite of everything, I still loved him too much for that.
There’s that word again. It always keeps cropping up, for some reason.
– Try to be serious, Belgarath, – the voice in my head told me. – You’re incapable of killing your brother. All you have to do is neutralize him. Don’t get carried away. We’re going to need him again on down the line. –
– You’re not going to tell me what to do, are you? –
– It isn’t permitted this time. You and Zedar are going to have to work out the details for yourselves. –
And then the silly thing was gone.
I spent several minutes swearing. Then I loped back to where Zedar had been warming himself by the cheerily burning Morind. As I ran along, I began to formulate a plan. I could confront Zedar right now and get it over with, but there were a lot of holes in that idea. Now that I knew how things stood, there was no way he could take me by surprise, and without the element of surprise, he was no match for me. I could take him with one hand, but that would still leave the question of traps hanging up in the air. I reasoned that my best course would be to follow him for a few days to see if he were in contact with others – Morindim or anybody else. I knew Zedar well enough to know that he’d much prefer to let others do his dirty work for him.
Then I stopped and dropped to my haunches. Zedar was fully aware of the fact that my favorite alternative form was that of a wolf. If he saw a wolf – or even wolf-tracks in the snow – he’d immediately know that I was around. I was going to have to come up with something else.
Given the rules of this particular encounter, I think I can take credit for the idea that came to me. My visitor had told me that he wasn’t permitted to make suggestions, so I was entirely on my own.
I ran back over the last couple thousand years in my mind. Zedar had spent almost the entire time in Mallorea, so there were a lot of things that had happened in the Vale that he didn’t know about. He knew that the she-wolf had stayed with me in my tower, but he didn’t know about her abilities. If a wolf started following him, he might get suspicious, but an owl? I didn’t think so – at least he wouldn’t unless I let him see how inept I was at flying.
I remembered the owl very well, of course, so it wasn’t too hard to form the image in my mind. It was only after I’d merged myself into the image that I realized my mistake. The image was female!
It didn’t really make any difference, of course, but it definitely confused me right at first. How’s it possible for women to keep their heads on straight with all those additional internal organs – and all those exotic substances floating around in their blood?
I don’t think it’d be a good idea for me to pursue this line of thought any further.
Considering my irrational nervousness about flying too high, it’s fortunate that owls have no real reason to go very far up in the air. An owl’s interested in what’s on the ground, not what’s up among the stars. I ghosted low over the snow-covered earth back toward where I’d left Zedar.
Have you any idea of how well an owl can see in the dark? I was absolutely amazed by how good my eyes were. My feathers, of course, were very soft, and I found that I could fly in absolute silence. I concentrated on that, and would you believe that my flying improved? I smoothed out my frantic flapping and actually managed to achieve a certain grace.
Etchquaw had burned down to a heap of charred, smoking rubble by now, and Zedar was gone. His tracks, however, weren’t. They angled back up the hillside toward the edge of the stunted evergreens at the tree-line, and then they turned east. That made things even easier for me. It’s a little hard to follow someone inconspicuously when you’re flying out in the open. As an owl though, I was able to drift silently from tree to tree until I caught up with him. He seemed to be heading due east, parallel to the course I’d set for Cherek and his sons, and I began to entertain myself by zig-zagging back and forth across his path, now ahead of him, now off to one side, and now behind. He wasn’t really hard to follow, since he’d conjured up a dim, greenish light to see by – and to hold off the boogie-men. Did I ever tell you that Zedar’s afraid of the dark? That adds another dimension to his present situation, doesn’t it?
He was bundled to the ears in furs, and he was muttering to himself as he floundered along through the snow. Zedar talks to himself a lot. He always has.
I could not for the life of me figure out what he was up to. If he thought that he could keep up with those long-legged Alorns, he was sadly mistaken. I was sure that Cherek and his boys were at least ten miles ahead of him by now. He was still angling slightly up hill, and by the time the moon set again he’d reached the crest of the north range. Then he stopped.
I drifted to a nearby tree and watched him – owlishly.
Sorry. I couldn’t resist that.
– ‘Master!’ – His thought almost knocked me off the limb I was perched on. Lord, Zedar could be clumsy when he got excited.
– I hear thee, my son. – I recognized the voice. I was a bit astounded to discover that Torak was almost as clumsy as Zedar was. He was a God! Was that the best he could do? Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Torak’s divinity had made him so sure of himself that he got careless.
– I have failed, Master. – Zedar’s silent voice was trembling. Torak was not the sort to accept the failure of his underlings graciously.
– Failed? – There were all sorts of unpleasant implications in the maimed God’s tone. – I will not accept that, Zedar. Thou must not fail. –
– Our plan was flawed, Master. Belgarath is far more powerful than we had anticipated. –
– How did this come to pass, Zedar? He is thy brother. How is it that thou wert ignorant of the extent of his might? –
– He seemed me but a foolish man, Master. His mind is not quick, nor his perceptions acute. He is, moreover, a drunken lecher with scant morality and little seriousness. –
You rarely hear anything good about yourself when you eavesdrop. Have you ever noticed that?
– How did he manage to thwart thee, my son? – There was a steely accusation in Torak’s voice.
– He hath in some manner unknown to me gained knowledge of the techniques by which the magicians of the Morindim raise and control the demons which are their slaves. I tell thee truly, Master, he doth far surpass those savages. –
Naturally he didn’t know how I’d learned Morind magic. He’d been in Mallorea when I’d gone to Morindland to take lessons.
– What did he do, Zedar? – Torak demanded. – I must know the extent of his capabilities ere I consult with the Necessity which guides us. –
It took me a moment